Page 27 of Protecting his Secrets

Nick smiled across the space, and if Malachi’s wide eyes were anything to go by, he’d not done it before. Fuck, he was an ass. “I know you won’t.” He tilted his head, continuing to meet Malachi’s stare. “There’s something you’re not telling me, though, Malachi, and Iwillfind out what it is. But…I know you won’t hurt anyone.”

Something akin to relief, maybe, and possibly a touch of fear passed across Malachi’s expression, but the man gave a small chuckle and put his plate back on the table.

“I have no doubt that you already know all my secrets, Nick, but thank you for trying to make me think you don’t.” Malachi frowned down at his hands and then met his gaze again, squaring his shoulders. “I will tell you this, though. I have less than a year left on my contract with Windsor Chronicle, and Iwillbe moving on to decidedly greener pastures afterwards.”

Nick raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s one thing I didn’t know. Any reason?”

Malachi rubbed his lips together for a minute. “I would like to go in a different direction to where they are.”

Nick almost grinned at the vague answer, but instead, he nodded. “Fair enough.” Deciding they had spoken enough about serious topics, he dropped his foot to the floor and clapped his hands on his thighs. “Are you ready to speak with the king?”

Malachi’s smile grew. “Without a doubt.”

Nick carried the empty dishes to the trolley and piled them up neatly. When Malachi joined him with their cups, the reporter chuckled.

“Siblings?” he asked.

Nick snorted. “How did you know?”

“I think many people know how to tidy up after themselves, but only those with siblings understand the pain of not piling things properly and having the entire pile of plates and cutlery come crashing down when there are more than a couple to deal with.” Malachi bit his lip. “I have four.”

Nick couldn’t stop his grin that time. “Three. All younger pains in my butt. Wouldn’t be without them, though.”

“The joys and pitfalls of siblinghood.”

Nick frowned. “Siblinghood? Is that even a word?”

“Don’t care if it is or not. It should be.”

“Says the writer.”

Malachi held up his hands. “Hey, if fantasy writers can make up their own words for items, so can I.”

Nick chuckled and checked everything was in place before tilting his head towards the door. “Ready?”

“Yes—no! Let me grab my notebook. I don’t know if this is on the record or not—either is fine. I just want to be prepared.” Malachi rushed around, gathering things into a small satchel-style bag, and then stopped in front of him. “Ready.”

Nick placed his hands on Malachi’s shoulders, immediately realising it was the first time he’d touched him outside of needing to help him, and tried to ignore the need to drag him into his body. “Malachi? Breathe. He’s just a man.”

“Yeah, a man who runs a country! Do you know how much work that must be? Of course, you do. You see him work every day. He never takes a day off, I’m told. And I could believe it, too, with how much he’s done for us all. He’s—”

“Breathe, Malachi,” Nick said again more forcefully, moving his hand to cup his neck, and this time, Malachi stuttered to a stop and took a shaky inhale. “And again.”

He could feel the reporter’s pulse fluttering beneath his palm and the heat of his skin seeping into him. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, and he wanted to pull Malachi into his body and shield him from everything. It was that thought that made him step back. Surely, he couldn’t change his tune that quickly. He never had before.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

He held the door open, locking it behind them, mainly to keep Malachi’s items safe from nosey staff members. No one was above wanting to know more about those people coming into their orbit, and he’d hate for something to come out about Malachi that had nothing to do with reporting.

He almost stumbled his steps. What the hell was he thinking? This man beside him had been saying hateful things about the royal family for the past two years or more. Why was hedefending him? He deserved every ounce of hatred and mistrust anyone wanted to throw at him.

But something inside Nick told him to stop thinking that way. To listen to what Malachi was and wasn’t saying. To do some deeper research he should’ve done in the beginning rather than relying on the surface stuff he could find easily. Was that what Brett and Freddie had been getting at? That there was something he’d missed? If there was, he’d have to wait to find out because he wasn’t leaving the king alone with the reporter unless he had no choice in the matter.

“Afternoon, Colt,” he said, receiving a nod in return from the bodyguard stationed outside the offices. They each took a turn either in the hallway or outside the office door, especially after what happened to Randall a while ago. Having secret entrances was not always the best idea.

They entered the offices. “Hey, Randall.” He smiled at the man who rushed around the table to hug him—something he’d not long started doing since he began a relationship with Dominic.

“Nick! Malachi! Are you well after last night?”

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