Page 12 of Protecting his Secrets

“From what we can ascertain, a server at the event drugged you, possibly with that glass of wine. When you started showing signs of being disorientated, the server offered to help you find somewhere to sit down. He took you into a room down the hall from the event, closing you both in.” Thomas sighed. “This is where some of our information stops. We don’t know what happened to you between the closing of that door and the time it opened twenty minutes later, but we do know you were notsexually assaulted. The king’s bodyguard broke into the room and found you with your shirt unfastened, but the rest of your clothes were still on and unaffected. I know that might not be a comfort, knowing he had you that vulnerable. The guard pulled the server off you as soon as he entered the room.” Thomas’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile.

Malachi frowned. “What?”

“Nick left his mark on the man, I promise you.”

Malachi’s stomach swooped. “Nick?”

Thomas nodded. “Nick Tennant. The king’s bodyguard. He was the one who went looking for you.”

Malachi wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He knew Nick didn’t like him, so to have him being the one to save him was…unnerving, almost. It was better to focus on that part of the Commissioner’s words than to think about what could’ve happened if Nick hadn’t been there.

“Do you know—” He cleared his throat and started again. “Do you know why he did it?”

Thomas’s mouth tightened. “No. Unfortunately, the guy isn’t talking. We’re still working on him. As we have video evidence of him taking you into that room, and we have Nick corroborating that he was straddling you when he entered the room, he will not get out of jail anytime soon.”

“Straddling me,” Malachi squeaked, his voice finally giving up.

Thomas’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry. Yes, when Nick entered the room, the server was straddling you on the sofa.”

Malachi closed his eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. He breathed through the fear rushing through him. The what-ifs. The maybes. He hated not being able to remember, but in the same breath, he was glad he couldn’t.

“Do you have any other questions, Malachi?” Malachi shook his head. “In that case, I will leave you my number and youcan call me anytime if you have questions or if you remember anything else. Okay?”

Malachi inhaled and lifted his head. “Thank you, Commissioner.”

A knock sounded, making Malachi jump, and the second police officer, who had entered with the Commissioner, raised his eyebrows at Malachi. Malachi nodded, and he opened the door, revealing someone Malachi never expected—the king’s personal assistant.

“Ah, Randall. I was wondering whether we would cross paths today,” Thomas said, rising from the chair and holding out his hand to the other man. They shook hands, and Thomas turned to Malachi. “This is Randall—”

“Metcalfe. The king’s personal assistant,” Malachi interrupted.

“Good morning, Mr Sanders. I wondered if you could spare a minute to have a word, please?”

Malachi nodded, unsure how much more he could take.

Thomas pulled a card from his pocket and laid it on the bedside table. “There’s my number, if you need anything at all. Please don’t be afraid to call.”

“Thank you, Commissioner.”

“I’ll leave you in Randall’s capable hands.”

Malachi shifted in the bed, ignoring his rolling stomach and slightly less throbbing head as he watched the Commissioner leave with the second police officer and Randall take his place.

“How are you feeling?” Randall asked, perching on the edge of the chair Thomas had occupied.

“As well as could be expected, I think.” Malachi didn’t mean anything by his words, but Randall still flinched.

“The king is sorry for what happened at one of our events. He is concerned for your health and your well-being, so if there is anything we can do, please let us know.”

Malachi waved him away. “Honestly, unless you were the ones to set this up, it’s not your fault.”

“I promise we had nothing to do with this, but the king would like to offer something to apologise for what you’re going through.” Randall paused, and Malachi frowned. “King Andrew would like to offer you the chance for a behind-the-scenes, up close and personal look at Windsor Castle and what goes on there. As I said, he feels responsible—even though he wasn’t—and would like to help in any way he can. He’s also offering you whatever health, emotional and mental needs you have.”

Malachi wasn’t sure what to think of the offer. While Randall had said they felt bad about it, why would they be offering such a thing, especially knowing what he wrote about them? He said as much.

Randall shifted in his seat. “I will be perfectly honest with you. The king is against violence of any kind, but what happened—or could’ve happened—to you is something we all detest. Nobody should be put through what you have, and we want to help in any way. That being said, if giving you this opportunity to watch us behind the scenes helps to…adjust your view of us, we wouldn’t be opposed.” Randall’s mouth twitched, and Malachi couldn’t help his laugh. If only he could tell him what he really thought of them.

“I’m a reporter, Mr Metcalfe. I certainly won’t turn down the opportunity for a close-up of the royal family, but please let me say that this is in no way anyone’s fault but the person who did this.” Malachi frowned, realising he didn’t even know who the guy was. “Whoever he is.”

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