Page 26 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)
Seventeen
S howtime.
Martin Lonsdale’s birthday party was just getting started and Truman was waiting in the hallway of their suite at the St. Regis. He was dressed in a crisp, black tuxedo and ready to escort Matteo downstairs.
“That looks…” Matteo stepped back from the bathroom mirror, inspecting his bow tie and grinning at his reflection. “Flawless.”
Dressed in a vintage Tom Ford tuxedo, Matteo looked flawless, but he was delighted at how flawlessly he’d executed his super secret plan.
Sisi’s star was already in his pocket and Matteo had reservations for a nonstop flight that left for Paris in a little over two hours.
He made it while Truman and Neville were scrambling after Matteo’s “test” earlier.
They wouldn’t think to check the airlines until after Matteo had disappeared and by then, it would be too late.
How had Matteo done it?
With plenty of preparation and a full day to befriend the staff and get valuable “behind the scenes” glimpses at how the hotel was run.
As Matteo had predicted, one of the porters had confided that it was safe to vape in the service stairwell because there were no security cameras.
Figuring out the override code for the hotel’s guest safes was tricky but Matteo practiced on the one in their suite and finally had success with the manager’s birthday.
Once it was “go” time, all he had to do was sneak out of the butler’s service door and into the nearby stairwell while Truman was getting ready in the suite’s other bathroom.
With Neville already in position downstairs, Matteo jogged up a flight of stairs in his tuxedo, sans tie, and lit and tossed a smoke bomb onto the 16th floor.
He quickly headed back down to their floor and threw another, then down to the 14th floor and released a final smoke bomb.
After that, Matteo waited behind the stairwell’s door as the fire alarms went off and people rushed from their rooms.
Matteo ushered people into the stairwell and looked on as Lonsdale and his entire crew hurried past him and down the stairs.
Confident that Lonsdale’s suite was vacant, Matteo calmly made his way through the smoke and panicked guests and staff.
He donned a pair of latex gloves and used the maintenance key to enter Lonsdale’s suite and went straight for the safe in the bathroom closet.
He punched in the override code on the safe’s keypad and it took only seconds to swap the real star for the replica.
The smoke was still thick when Matteo smoothly exited Lonsdale’s suite and ran to help an older man as he coughed and searched his vest for his glasses.
“The stairs are this way, sir,” Matteo said with his best American accent. In his tuxedo, Matteo could easily be confused for a porter in the smoke.
“Thanks for helping an old man out! Think it’s a fire?”
“It’s probably just a prank by the protesters but we can’t be too careful,” Matteo said and deftly plucked the clasp on the man’s watch, easing it off as he guided them toward the open stairwell door.
There, the man spotted his wife and thanked Matteo as he was turned over to her care.
After a quick, yet courteous escape, Matteo wove his way through the guests as he made his way downstairs and found Truman in the lobby.
“Was that you?” Truman whispered out of the side of his mouth. He was half-dressed, looking inconveniently delicious in his white undershirt and tuxedo trousers.
“Just a test to make sure there aren’t any cameras in the stairwell and to see if they can still move fast. One of the protestors should already be taking credit.”
“Smart. Were you seen?”
“Do you think I am a clown? Did I trip and honk on my big, red nose?” Matteo asked facetiously, smiling before he gave a withering snort. “Nee. No one saw me. This isn’t my first rodeo as you Americans like to say.”
“Good work,” Truman said with a weary sigh. “Go and finish getting ready. I’ll mingle with the other ‘concerned’ guests and see what management has to say.”
Matteo bowed, smirking as he backed away. “As you wish.”
He waited until he was back in his bathroom to cheer and did a celebratory moonwalk and the robot.
With Sisi’s star now in his possession, Matteo had the upper hand.
All he had to do was play along until it was time to sneak out of the party.
Instead of going back up to steal the star from Lonsdale’s room, Matteo could grab a cab and head for the airport.
Truman would be too busy distracting Lonsdale and Neville would be in the lobby, watching the elevators in case anyone in the entourage left early.
It was still Matteo’s job to turn heads so he took extra care with his tie and his hair. He wanted to look like a million dollars while he secretly pulled off a historic heist. Stabbing Truman in the back would be the final flourish, if Matteo decided to keep the star for himself and disappear.
“Showtime!” Matteo whispered at the mirror, giving his hair one final flick and smoothing out his coat’s sleeves.
He turned and appreciated the tuxedo’s clean lines and the way the coat hugged his shoulders and tapered in at the waist, suggesting that there was a proper ass under it without being garish.
Matteo didn’t need skin-tight tailoring and flashy patterns to attract attention, he looked like sex personified in classic tailoring.
Truman clearly thought so as well. He was scanning the paper in the foyer and dropped it when Matteo wandered in, giving his onyx cuff links a final tweak.
“Ready?” Matteo asked, receiving a quick nod from Truman.
“You look…” He ignored the scattered sheets, stepping over them and reaching for Matteo’s hand. “You look incredible.” Truman’s gaze was loaded with possessive hunger as he kissed Matteo’s knuckles.
“Settle down, no one’s watching,” Matteo said with a bored sniff, ignoring the tickle of heat in his briefs and the way his tummy flipped as Truman scanned him from head to toe.
His brow hitched when he reached Matteo’s velvet loafers.
They were handmade and Matteo was betting that the occasional peek of his ribbed cashmere dress socks would make Truman sweat.
To see if he was right, Matteo gave his right leg a kick and pretended to shake out some static, noting the way Truman’s eyes followed his foot and widened.
“Shall we?” Truman asked, coughing softly and offering his arm.
“Let the games begin,” Matteo said as he hooked his arm around Truman’s.
With the star secured, Matteo was free to flick Truman’s temper and unsettle his nerves.
Matteo would be extra devious and pull out all the stops because nothing would be funnier or aid their plan better than a drooling and babbling Truman.
They stepped into the elevator and Truman was composed as he pressed the button for the lobby.
“I’ve been informed that there isn’t a receiving line so we’ll make a beeline for Marty and I’ll introduce you.
He’s expecting a pampered prince so do your worst.” he said in a steady murmur.
“That will distract him while I do a headcount.”
“I know how to do my job, Truman, and I excel at being a royal slut. Just do your part and keep Lonsdale distracted.” Matteo watched their reflections to see if Truman’s nostrils flared or his color changed but he remained unfazed and aloof. “Your British mother trained you well.”
“She did,” Truman confirmed and nodded at the doors when they parted. “And she could teach you a thing or two about being a brat,” he added as he placed Matteo’s hand on his sleeve, smiling as they set off.
Matteo followed, plastering an easy smile on his face as they strolled through the lobby. The bar and restaurant were already congested with arriving guests. Women in fur shawls and evening gowns and men in tuxedos waited in line for the coat check.
“Sylvia, you look stunning,” Truman said and offered his cheek for a kiss but didn’t stop to make an introduction. He shook men’s hands and he flattered gasping, gawking women as they made their way into the hotel’s main ballroom, keeping everyone guessing and the gossip buzzing around them.
All eyes were on Truman and Matteo, as intended. Their host had noticed and waved Truman down from across the room.
“Ready, your Highness?” Truman asked quietly, making Matteo laugh.
He purred and hugged Truman’s arm. “One pretty, posh slut coming up!” he whispered.
“Don’t overdo it. I want to look like I’m infatuated, not make an ass out of myself,” Truman said while smiling and pointing at their host. The older man waved excitedly, then shooed the woman next to him away.
“Tennyson! I’m glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this,” Truman said as he was pulled into a hug. “Happy Birthday, Marty. Have you met von Hessen?” he asked, gesturing at Matteo.
“Not this one,” Marty answered with a hearty laugh, offering Matteo his hand. “I know your cousin, Maximilian.”
“Marty, this is Matteo von Hessen. Matteo, Marty Lonsdale,” Truman said as they shook hands.
“Max speaks highly of you,” Matteo lied and smiled, relieved when he could let go of Lonsdale’s clammy grip. “And Truman tells me you’re his favorite client,” he added, leaning into Truman and sliding a hand over his chest and under the lapel of his coat. “Isn’t that right?”
Truman blinked down at Matteo, then nodded. “Of course,” he said and smiled at Lonsdale.
“I better be, as much as I pay the son of a bitch!” Lonsdale slapped Truman’s other shoulder, laughing.
“And yet, my mother doesn’t think you pay me enough,” Truman countered in his flat rumble, making Lonsdale laugh even harder. He began to hack and wheeze and was handed a handkerchief.