Page 42 of Third Crime's A Charm
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 theman’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,ifMatteo 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 pointingat their host. The older man waved excitedly, then shooed the woman next to him away.
“Tennyson! I’m glad you could make it.”
