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“Hmm.” To her complete and utter shock, he said, “I like your nails. They suit you.” He smiled a slow, lazy smile that reignited the tingling inside her, except this time she couldn’t attribute it to the snow.
Well, if it was going to keep feeling like they’d just had sex—without the benefit of actually having had sex—she was going to ask him something a little bold.
Not that she wanted to have sex with him.
Didshe?
Oh, crap.
“What are you going to do about Noar and Daniel?” Matteo asked, jolting her back to reality.
She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose I need to go to the king.”
“If I may make a suggestion?”
“By all means.”
“Goodness, the truce seems to really have taken this time.” He winked. Matteo Benzwinkedat her. “Give me a little time to poke around before you say anything to His Majesty?”
“That makes sense. This all may be nothing. Noar may be arrogant and incompetent but not criminally so.”
Matteo snorted in a way that suggested he was Team Criminal. “It’s more that I don’t want the king to act rashly. Depending on what we find, it might be a delicate situation, and the king can be... well, rash.”
“You don’t worry about keeping him in the dark?”
“It’s not keeping him in the dark. It’s waiting until we have as much information as we can gather. Sometimes loyalty to the Crown requires strategy. An eye to the long-term good.”
“Is this that extended mission you spoke about?”
“Mmm,” he agreed vaguely. “And I assume you will want to know what’s been going on with the company’s valuation before you submit your report.”
“Yes, and that, in turn, might change my recommendations.” Something happened to his face then, but she couldn’t quite figure out what. “So the next step is you poke around. Will you tell me what you learn?”
“I will.”
“Because we’re allies now, allies who are on a first-name basis?” Allies in bathing suits.
“Yes. The truce endures.” A slow smile blossomed. He really was so handsome when he de-starched himself. He extended a hand. He no doubt meant that they should shake on it, that he was agreeing, but he’d extended his top hand, which was hisleft—he was lying on his right arm. She sent her top hand out to meet his. They didn’t shake, though; they just sort of held hands and stared at each other. “To the enduring truce,” he said, his voice doing that weird caressing thing.
She had to swallow to gethervoice to work. “To the enduring truce.”
Chapter Eleven
Six days until Christmas
The next day, back in Witten, it really did feel like they were allies. Matteo texted to update her throughout the day as he poked around, trying to find out more about Noar. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. She’d come to realize that there were two versions of Matteo. There was the formal, bordering-on-uptight equerry, and there was the man. For a while, she’d seen only glimpses of the man beneath the surface. Then, on their two trips to Riems, larger and larger doses of him.
Now, as if he had turned himself inside out, she saw more of Matteo the man than Mr. Benz the equerry.
“Good evening. May I join you?”
She was sitting at the bar finishing a late dinner when he appeared at her elbow. “Please do. I’d welcome the company.”
She’d welcome his company specifically.
“I have some news from an associate regarding Noar,” he whispered. “Something I didn’t want to put in writing.”
She had to shake off the sting of disappointment that he wasn’t here because he wanted to hang out with her, but because he wanted to talk business.
