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Chapter Five
Macey was living in some kind of fairy tale in this picturesque castle with a handsome prince seemingly interested in her while having to fake an engagement to his identical twin. Okay, the fairy tale was a bit flawed as she was falling for the wrong prince. Maybe she had walked into a forbidden medieval romance, except with all the modern conveniences and a dream prince who smelled like a crisp, fresh slice of heaven. Nobody ever mentioned it in a medieval romance, but she assumed the men didn’t smell like musk and bergamot with a hint of apples and fall air.
There was a rap on the bedroom door. Macey pressed a hand to the cinched waistline of her floral sun dress. It had cap sleeves and was knee length. She’d traded out the heels she’d been sick of wearing hours ago for some strappy sandals. Hopefully she looked all right.
Hurrying across the spacious suite, she flung the door open and her heart slammed against her rib cage. Identical twins. Insanely handsome princes. Wearing tailored suits—black for Tristan with a yellow tie, gray on Ray with a teal blue tie. Both waiting to escort her, reclusive Macey Clifton, to dinner. She knew instantly Ray was on her right.
“You look incredible,” she gushed out before reason could stop her, trying to speak to both of them.
Ray’s alluring smile deepened his dimple, crinkled the smooth skin around his mouth and eyes, and made his blue gaze sparkle.
“You stole my line,” Tristan said, giving her a smoldering look and a pump of his eyebrows.
She laughed to hide her embarrassment. A smoldering look from Tristan felt off to her. “I thought you said I didn’t need a formal dress.”
“You don’t. You’re absolutely gorgeous.” He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
“Thank you.” Macey smiled, and shouldn’t have looked at Ray. His blue eyes said he agreed with his brother’s compliment, but his clenched fists said he was annoyed by it.
Tristan offered his elbow. She had to play her role tonight. It was scary. What if she said something out of line, used the wrong fork, or spent all of dinner staring at the fiancé’s twin?
They fell into step down the wide hallway. Her hand was threaded through T’s elbow, cupping his nicely formed bicep muscle, but it did absolutely nothing for her. Ray was close by on her other side. Every time his arm so much as brushed hers, tingles erupted. Which was ridiculous, as he had a suit coat on.
“Did you and Ray solve any mysteries this afternoon?” T asked as they walked to the grand staircase and down the four flights of stairs.
“Sadly no, but he gave me a lengthy list of names to investigate and I’ve got my custom AI models digging into backgrounds and dirt on everybody. Tomorrow Ray said you’ll be in meetings all day and we’ll be able to sort through who was at the castle that night or had access to it. My modeling never fails to bring up leads—some big, some small—but in-person interpretation is always needed, so Ray’s take on everything will be invaluable.”
“You two get all the fun.” He raised his voice slightly. “While I sit through meetings with the stuffy, boring, dry, loves-to-hear-himself-talk prime minister …”
They were halfway down the grand staircase that descended from the third to first floor, and Macey realized why T had broken off. Four people were standing in the entryway—the king, Kiera, a handsome younger man wearing a black military uniform, and a distinguished man probably in his late fifties in a deep blue suit. She’d seen the older man in pictures with the royal family. The prime minister? Definitely. But what did she know about him? Curse her lack of prep time!
“You were saying, Prince Tristan?” The older of the two looked up at the three of them with a glint of humor in his dark eyes.
“Henry!” Tristan’s voice pitched up as if this man was the person he’d been looking forward to seeing all day. “I saw you there, my friend.” He winked as if it was all in good fun.
“Prime Minister Shule,” King Nolan corrected, giving Tristan a grimace, but it looked put-on. This was a recurring inside joke.
“Of course you did.” The prime minister chuckled.
Macey’s neck muscles tightened. A family dinner and the prime minister and some military dude were here? She might need to go visit their spa tonight. This was stressful.
“Hi, Macey!” Kiera darted up the stairs faster than should’ve been humanly possible. She gave Macey a quick hug. “You look so pretty!”
“Thank you. So do you.”
The child looked like the picture of a sweet, beautiful princess—until she threw herself off a life-ending ledge.
Kiera beamed at her brothers. “Watch,” she commanded them. Then she leaped at the side of the grand staircase, planted both feet into the solid wood railing, did a flip in the air, and landed easily next to her father.
“Impressive,” Tristan said.
“Don’t encourage her.” King Nolan beamed at his daughter and patted her on the head, negating his words. You’d think the king would caution the child a little more after losing his wife tragically, but maybe the loss had taught him to relax and enjoy his children more.
Ray and Tristan exchanged a glance. Then Tristan escorted her down the rest of the stairs. “Macey Clifton, my fiancée.”
It sounded like he was proud, which helped her nerves somewhat. Maybe she was playing the role all right. Maybe she wouldn’t embarrass Sutton, Tristan, and the entire royal family on this job. If she could keep herself from gawking at Ray in that suit.
“Allow me to introduce Prime Minister Henry Shule,” Tristan said.
