Page 28 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)

Eighteen

R ealistically, Truman placed the odds of Matteo returning at about even.

There was nothing stopping Matteo from fleeing to the Consulate General of the Republic of Austria after stealing the star.

They were all focused on the party and the consulate was on Park Avenue, just a mile away.

He’d receive the reward and would have the added pleasure of flipping on Truman for organizing the heist in exchange for immunity.

They’d offer him just about anything for returning a priceless national treasure, taking down Truman Tennyson, and putting Martin Lonsdale away.

Had Truman done enough to convince Matteo to give him one more chance?

Truman had gambled on Matteo choosing him before and had been wrong.

Matteo had intended to come back when Neville and Carmine caught him the first time.

But after learning how much that had hurt Matteo, Truman wasn’t sure if he’d be as lucky this time around.

He wasn’t feeling confident as he lowered into a club chair, choosing a table in a darker corner alcove of the hotel’s iconic bar.

His heart was racing as he reclined and draped his napkin over his lap.

Truman needed to be in the security camera’s view but he didn’t want too many people to notice if he was stood up.

“What can I get you?” a weary young woman asked.

Truman kept his head down, pretending to check his watch. “Bourbon on the rocks.”

“Make that two,” Matteo said as he slipped into the chair across from Truman, receiving a vague grunt from their server as she left them.

“How did it—?” Truman managed calmly but stopped when Matteo tossed the star and a Patek Philippe onto the table. “Christ!” The napkin from Truman’s lap was thrown on top of them as he sat forward. “How did you…?”

Matteo clicked his teeth and tapped the side of his nose. “A magician never tells. Especially when they’re in the midst of an illusion,” he whispered, sitting back.

“Right,” Truman said and casually scanned around them, recalling that the act wasn’t over. “No one gave you any trouble while you were smoking?” he asked, receiving a distracted snort as Matteo got comfortable, stretching his legs under the table.

“No one paid any attention to me,” he said and smiled when the young woman arrived with their drinks. She didn’t notice as Truman returned the napkin to his lap and discreetly slid the jewel and the watch into his pocket.

“Here you go, gentlemen.” She efficiently placed cocktail napkins in front of each of them before setting a glass in front of Truman, then Matteo. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

“Not yet! ” Truman replied, his voice breaking as Matteo’s shoeless foot brushed his thigh aside and pressed firmly against his semi-hard cock.

“We’ll need another round in about five minutes,” Matteo told her, his wicked smile visible in the low light. His foot curved around Truman’s shaft, now throbbing as it stroked.

“Got it,” she replied with a wink at Truman.

Truman waited until her back was turned and she couldn’t hear them. “What are you doing?” he scolded and grabbed Matteo’s foot under the table. He wiggled his toes, making Truman harder and heavier.

“Relax and enjoy the ride, I am.” Matteo took a leisurely sip from his glass, utterly relaxed despite the decadent torment happening under the table.

“Are you trying to make a scene?”

“As a matter of fact, we are .” Matteo’s teeth dug into his lower lip and he shifted just slightly.

No one would have noticed, the party might have been in full swing but there were only a handful of guests in the bar.

Their server had made herself scarce, but Truman was scandalized as Matteo’s other foot slid into his lap.

“Take it out,” he dared Truman in a giddy whisper.

“What?” Truman mouthed, unable to find his voice. He shook his head. “You’re out of your mind.”

“We’re supposed to be getting it on in the bar, ja?” Matteo countered with an elegant roll of his hand. The toes of both feet gripped Truman through his trousers, obliterating his focus.

“Ah,” he managed, nodding jerkily. “I did know that we wanted to be seen but I didn’t realize you wanted to make a scene.

” Truman tugged at his collar, sweating as he grabbed his drink.

A pair of well-dressed guests drifted past the bar area, laughing and causing Truman to jump despite the shadows and the deep club chair and table shielding his lap from view.

“We’re supposed to be smitten, are we not?

” There was a mischievous edge to Matteo’s voice as his feet continued to knead, unraveling Truman’s control.

“It was this or throw a drink in your face but I didn’t want people to think it was a family habit after Jonathon’s famous outburst. And this seemed like more fun. ”

“Fun?” Truman was aching after Matteo’s taunts in the ballroom. “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”

Matteo hummed, the sultry purr winding Truman tighter before the feet around his erection stilled and started to slide away.

“I did say that,” he confirmed and smiled when Truman’s hand tightened around his ankle.

“But you are a phenomenal fuck and I’m in the mood.

I could find someone else but it might get awkward since we’re sharing the suite,” he mused, tapping his chin.

Over Truman’s dead body.

He had seen the way everyone—even straight men—stared at Matteo in the ballroom. The naked, desperate desire to exploit or fuck him never failed to strike a nerve with Truman. How dare they look at Matteo like that, when he clearly belonged to Truman?

Except, he didn’t.

Truman resisted the urge to snarl and offered Matteo a placid, relaxed smile. “We both know you don’t mean that. What did you have in mind?”

There was a curious hum from Matteo as he sipped from his drink. “You could take it out and let me finish you here,” he suggested while his feet resumed their gripping and rubbing. “I would enjoy watching you lick your fingers clean.”

Heat swelled in Truman’s boxers as he imagined complying and he felt a strong urge to please Matteo. Normally, Truman thrived on control and was the one who gave orders but he was enthralled whenever Matteo took command of the situation.

“And then?” Truman was sure that Matteo could feel his hand shaking as it curved around his foot.

The dangerous gleam in his soft brown eyes confirmed that Matteo was happy having the upper hand. Or foot as it were. “And then, we’ll go upstairs and I’ll fuck that tight, hot hole with all the anger I can muster.”

“Anger? Now, I’m conflicted,” Truman admitted with a sad sigh, nodding when their server arrived with their second round. This time, Truman didn’t hide how infatuated and distracted he was, fondling Matteo’s calf under the table as they mentally undressed each other.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked and Truman shook his head, never taking his eyes off of Matteo’s.

“That will be all. We’ll be retiring soon,” he said quietly, making her blush and giggle.

“Have a very good evening, gentlemen,” she told them as she left the check.

“As I was saying,” Truman continued as he charged the drinks to their suite and added a $1,000 tip.

Their server had provided excellent service but Truman wanted to be sure she remembered them and told the rest of the servers and hotel staff they had been there.

“Anger is such a strong word. While I enjoy the carnal prospects and what it could mean for my hole, I had thought that we were in a better place.”

For a moment, Matteo’s dazzling facade flickered and he looked tired. “Like The Carlyle? Are you going to take it out or not?”

Truman responded with a dry snort as he found his key card and returned his wallet to the pocket inside his coat.

“No, I am not going to take it out. We are still in public and there are certain lines I’m not willing to cross.

Specifically, when it’s a matter of public decency and violates the consent of unsuspecting bystanders. ”

“Bad news, Truman,” Matteo said under his breath. “It just gets me hotter when the cranky attorney jumps out.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Truman murmured. “But do you know what isn’t hot?” he asked as he slid out of his seat and stood. “Jail. I’m not interested in people spreading that kind of gossip about us either. Shall we?” he asked, buttoning his coat and offering Matteo a hand up.

“Shall we?” Matteo mimicked in a low rumble before smoothly rising and taking Truman’s hand.

Matteo held onto it as he confidently strolled toward the lobby and the elevators, towing Truman along behind him.

Fuck, if he isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even when he’s pissed off at me…

Truman didn’t have to pretend to be the adoring conquest and was truly staring like a lovesick idiot as Matteo pressed the call button and fell back against the wall, pulling Truman with him.

They kissed as they waited and Truman was tired of playing games with Matteo, he wanted to put the past and the plan behind them and start over with a clean slate.

“I don’t care about Marty or the rest of it anymore. I want to send him away and move on,” Truman told Matteo, searching his eyes as they waited for one of the elevators to open and the scene to end.

Aside from a slight furrowing of his brow, Matteo was unresponsive until the doors to their right parted. “Shall we?” he asked, tipping his head toward them. Matteo pulled Truman with him as he backed inside, sliding an arm around his neck.

Truman kissed Matteo as he followed, blindly reaching for the card slot on the panel. He quickly checked and punched the proper button, closing the doors and sending them upwards.

“Matteo, I meant what I said before. I’m going to?—”

“We’re being recorded,” Matteo said, his lips hard and hungry as they covered Truman’s.