Chapter 5

Nick

Nick stared at Brett, mouth tightening. "Not a chance."

Brett raised his eyebrows. "I don't remember asking your opinion, Nick. I gave you an order."

Nick stood, threading his fingers through his hair as he paced between the chairs. He stopped and glared at Brett. "You're seriously giving me that order when you know how I feel about him? Seriously?" He gritted his teeth.

"You are the best person for the job." Brett crossed his arms over his chest.

"How do you work that out?" Nick snorted. "I'm more likely to strangle the guy."

"You're obsessed with him, Nick. You'll watch him like a hawk, and for good reason. You already know a lot about him. You will know if he does something unusual, or if he looks like he's not being truthful about something. You know him better than anyone. I can't think of anyone else who is as well versed in Malachi Sanders."

Nick tried not to feel embarrassed about his obviously not-so-secret obsession with the offensive reporter. He stared at his feet, his fingers gripping his hips, and he exhaled. "Fine."

"I'm not doing this to be an ass, Nick. You will see through any charming acts he puts on because you know him."

He couldn't disagree, and he hated that fact. "When?"

"He's arriving on Friday."

Nick's jaw dropped. "Right before Kean's birthday?"

Brett shrugged. "The king thought it would be a good time to show him their human side, so to speak."

"That's one hell of an invitation," Nick muttered.

"You'll be sharing a suite with him just down from here. We don't want to give him any chance of sneaking around, and this was the best option. Friday will be more laid back, getting to know Windsor Castle, so you'll be giving him a tour and answering his questions, and then on Saturday, the king will have a meeting with him, and he will meet with some others if they agree. Sunday, he will have access to the grounds and house again, and then Monday, he'll be heading home with hopefully higher opinions of us than he has now."

Nick had taken all that information in, but he'd stuck on the first thing. "I'm sharing a suite with him!" He threw his hands wide. "Why not give me full access to killing the guy?"

Brett sighed, and Felix chuckled. "Nick, you'll be fine. It's four days, not the rest of your life."

"Unless I kill him and end up behind bars."

"Don't worry. We'll help you hide the body," Felix said.

Brett glared at Felix, who snorted in response. "No bodies will need hiding. No lives are forfeited. No deaths will happen. You'll be fine." He rounded his desk and settled in his chair. "Now get home."

Nick opened his mouth to complain again, but Brett turned his glare on him, so he swallowed it back. He grabbed his stuff and headed out of Sec HQ. Four days with Malachi! How the hell was he going to manage that? He was a fun-loving, easygoing guy mostly, but when someone messed with his people, he held a grudge. He muttered and grumbled the entire way home—or rather, his parents' home. They'd invited him and the rest of them for dinner, and Nick had a feeling they were going to announce their next cruise. Since they retired, they'd been going on cruises several times a year. Some closer by, like Gran Canaria, and some further afield, like the Caribbean. Nick was jealous in some ways. He'd love to try a cruise, but he hadn't got on one yet. Eventually, though. The pictures his parents took and the experiences they described sounded amazing. Maybe he'd take one after the debacle with Malachi.

He parked down the road from his parents' house and locked the car. He knocked but let himself in as they were allowed to. Nick didn't like the house being unlocked all the time, but his parents wouldn't listen to his opinions about it. People weren't as nice as they had been when his parents were younger, but he couldn't get through to them. He just had to hope that the security measures he had put in place for them held up if they needed to.

"Mum! Dad! I'm here!"

"We guessed that, sweetheart."

His mother, Rebecca, was in her early seventies and had a curly mop of grey hair framing her thin face. She didn't mind growing older and was vocally happy about enjoying every year she had. She kept up with yoga and pilates but had stopped running after a fall in a park with no one being there to help. Despite her usual resilience, it had scared her, so she'd kept her activities within a building or closer to home after that.

He kissed her cheek. "Hi, Mum."

Rebecca patted his cheek and smiled, her crooked front teeth peeking from behind her lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" The reminder of what Brett had told him made him tense, and she noticed. "Bad, huh?"

"Not…bad as such," he hedged. "Just…annoying."

Rebecca frowned. "Annoying?"

He sighed. "I have an assignment I don't particularly want, but…" He shrugged. "It is what it is."

"Tell me about it before everyone else gets here." She headed for the kitchen, and Nick followed, poking his head quickly into the living room to wave at his dad before continuing to the hub of the house. "I'll make you a coffee."

"Can I have one, please, darling?" his dad shouted.

"Since when do I forget you?" his mum teased, rolling her eyes in Nick's direction.

Nick loved the visible signs of love his parents showed daily. They weren't stingy with their affection or their words, and it had shown Nick that it was okay to show those things, something he'd taken to heart with his friends and family. He showed his love for them every time he saw them. And when they asked for his help, he agreed without hesitation. Love was his language, and one day, he hoped he'd find someone to share his life with. One day.

"Sit down, sweetheart. What's this assignment? If you can tell me, that is."

His mother understood the necessity of his NDA and never pushed when he told her he couldn't talk about some aspects of his job. That assignment, however, he could explain. It wasn't public knowledge, but they also weren't hiding it, Brett had told him.

"A reporter is coming to stay at Windsor for a few days, and I have to stay with him all the time he's there. Even at night. I'm staying in a suite with him." He sighed and thanked her when she brought his coffee over.

His mother said nothing for a moment but then raised her eyebrows. "And this is a problem, why?"

Nick inhaled. "Because it's Malachi Sanders." Rebecca pinched her lips together, and Nick shook his head. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny, sweetheart. Let me take this in for your dad." She disappeared, and Nick wrapped his hands around his mug, inhaling the roasted beans. His parents always bought the best coffee, some of which came from the different countries they'd visited.

Rebecca returned and settled beside him with her tea. "So, Malachi Sanders, eh? Does your boss know you're more likely to kill the man?"

Nick chuckled at how well his mother knew him. "I told him, but he said he had faith in me." He rubbed his lips, reluctantly smiling. "He said I knew Malachi better than anyone and I wouldn't take any shit he doled out."

"That's true."

"But I am likely to kill him before the time is through."

Rebecca sipped her tea and chuckled softly. "Think of it as a chance to find out why he's writing what he is. Something must've happened for him to be so antagonistic towards them."

Nick's stomach soured. "What if it's a ruse to get close to them?" He voiced his worst fear.

"Then you will be there to stop whatever he has planned." He focused on his coffee, his stomach churning, but his mother continued. "No one made a mistake that day, Nick. No one did. That man decided to do that, and no one did anything wrong. People still got hurt, but it wasn't anyone's fault but that man's. The king survived. Others didn't, but as much as I hate to think about it, that's the job you've signed up for. Bodyguards can do everything right and still bad things happen. If you continue to second-guess yourself, Nick, you won't be able to do your job."

Nick's throat closed up, and his chest ached, a physical pressure that made it hard to breathe. So many people had lost their lives, both that day and other days, and it was heartbreaking. He would happily give his life to save someone else's, but it sucked all the same. His mother had been there through his physiotherapy and helped him to get around while he was healing, and she knew how he felt because he spent many hours talking about it.

"Mum! Dad! I'm here!"

Nick cleared his throat and chuckled, grateful for the interruption, and his mother sighed and shouted back to Jonah, "We guessed that, sweetheart." The standard response to their children's standard greeting. A greeting he had no idea when it started.

His brother strode in, his suit still in pristine condition despite spending the day at work. Nick had never kept his suit that clean. Jonah worked in an office, using his financial genius to make investments for people. He was the image of their father with lighter hair and blue eyes, whereas Nick, Eliza and Rye took after their mother more with dark hair and eyes.

Rebecca rose and hugged Jonah before heading to the oven. "We have half an hour before the lasagne is ready, so go talk to your dad, both of you."

"I've just got comfortable!" Nick said, though he didn't mean a word of it.

"Then get uncomfortable," Rebecca replied, a twinkle in her eyes.

Nick groaned halfheartedly and grabbed his drink, following his brother into the living room.

"I wondered when someone was going to visit with me," his dad, Don, said, his tablet held tightly in his hand as his fingers worked the screen, undoubtedly setting more people working on the game he was obsessed with.

"You're busy working, Dad. I thought I'd give you some peace," Nick teased. He dropped onto a cushion on the sofa, Jonah settling at the other end.

"What's new?" Don asked, his eyes still on the screen.

Jonah crossed his legs. "Absolutely nothing."

Nick snorted. "How much money did you make people today?"

Jonah's cheeks flushed. "Enough." He loved his job, but he openly admitted he hated making certain people money. People he said didn't deserve it. He happily did it for others, including his family. "How many assholes did you beat up today?" Jonah returned the teasing.

"Not one, unfortunately." Nick sighed as if he was disappointed.

"Mum! Dad! I'm here!" Eliza's voice called through the house, and Rebecca sighed her usual greeting. His sister poked her head into the room.

"Where's Rye?" Nick asked.

Eliza shrugged. "He told me he was making his own way here tonight." She disappeared again.

Nick and Jonah shared a look. It wasn't often Rye arrived home by himself. Eliza and he lived close to each other, and she always picked him up along the way.

"Wonder what he's been doing," Jonah murmured.

"Leave him alone when he gets here," Don said. "You don't have to know everything about his life or anyone's lives."

"But it's so much fun teasing them," Jonah said. "You taught us that."

Don sighed and shook his head, glancing at them over the top of his glasses. "I taught you to be nice, too, and look where that got us."

Nick snorted, and Jonah pointed a finger at their dad. "See! You're just as bad."

Don's mouth twitched as he went back to his game, but he kept the conversation going. "How are you both?"

They spoke for a few minutes before Eliza joined them, and then the front door slammed again.

"Mum! Dad—"

"We know, sweetheart!" Rebecca shouted back, interrupting Rye's greeting.

Nick snorted. It was always the last child who got interrupted because his mother got fed up with the greeting by that point.

Rye didn't appear before their mother shouted them for dinner, but he was sitting at the dining table when they entered. Nick cupped his nape, squeezing gently, before sitting opposite him and next to Eliza. Jonah took the chair beside Rye, and their father and mother at either end.

"Thank you for dinner, Mum," Nick said before tucking into the cheesy, meaty, vegetable wonder that was his mum's lasagne tower. With four kids to feed, she made a lasagne big enough to feed six of them with meat and lots of vegetables, too. And because it tasted so damn good, not one of them had complained about the vegetables when they were younger, even though they hated them—the complete dish, all mixed together, was delicious.

The conversation, filled with innuendos, teasing and laughter, settled something inside Nick. It always did. Whenever he felt upset or uneasy, a trip to his parents' house or a visit with a sibling was all he needed to reset himself. He loved them all so damn much, and sometimes, it was overwhelming.

"Not long now until the wedding, is it?" Eliza asked. Her curly black hair settled around her shoulders, bouncing whenever she moved, a lot like her personality.

Nick shook his head. "A month to go. With four weddings in a year, they've got it down to a fine art now."

"I can imagine it's a huge undertaking," Rebecca said.

"It is, but Randall is amazing. He worked the first two himself, and then he brought other people in but gave them his task lists, his contacts and everything they needed. All they had to do was follow his instructions and timescale, and it was done. I hope he never leaves because I'm not sure what we'd do without him."

"How are the princes feeling?" Rebecca asked. Her concern was always palpable when she spoke about the royal family.

"They don't seem at all nervous, which is good. Both Patrick and Kieren are used to the limelight, and although Kieren was usually behind Patrick in the spotlight, he's doing okay with his additional responsibilities."

Nick gave them as much as he could without crossing the edges of his NDA. He clung to his contracts, even knowing his family wouldn't betray any confidences.

"What happened last week?" Eliza asked. "I read somewhere that something happened at the event."

Nick clenched his jaw, not wanting to bring back bad memories, so he simplified his answer. "Someone attempted to hurt a guest, but it was stopped."

"Who?"

Nick shook his head. "I can't say." How they'd kept Malachi's name out of the media, he didn't know, but Mav must've done his magic to keep his identity a secret, being a social media wizard as he was. He'd lost count of the times Prince Douglas's husband had stopped news from getting out. Nick was all for the freedom of information and all that, but sometimes, someone just needed to be protected, and that was that.

"Fair enough. Are they okay, though?" Eliza asked.

Nick nodded. "They are." He hadn't heard otherwise, so he assumed Malachi was doing okay since his release from the hospital.

The conversation turned to other subjects, and Nick studied his family as they spoke. Despite his and Rye's discussion a couple of weeks ago, the dark circles beneath Rye's eyes seemed to have lessened. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but he was happy all the same. He'd make sure to speak to him at some point. Eliza had steadfastly worked through her feelings and worries over the past ten years and had found a way to deal with what had happened to her. It had been a long journey for her, but he was so proud of what she'd accomplished. Jonah, on the other hand, had a spark in him that hadn't been there before. Nick had noticed it when they'd been talking in the living room but couldn't figure out where it had come from. If he had to guess, he would say Jonah had found someone he liked, but his brother wouldn't discuss anything until it was a done thing, almost. Not wedded bliss done, but when he was confident in the relationship. Far too many times over the years, Jonah had brought people home to meet everyone, and they'd turned out to be duds. None of them had been lucky in the romance department so far.

He could deal with that for himself, but he truly wanted his siblings to be happy. To find someone or several someones to share their lives with. It was what they all deserved.

By the time they'd cleaned up after dinner, it was getting late and still no accouncement, so Nick said goodnight and hugged each of them before heading home. He hoped he would see them soon, but after spending a weekend babysitting Malachi Sanders, he wasn't sure he wouldn't be serving life in jail by that time the following week.

Four days later, he still wasn't sure. As Malachi stood chatting to Andrew as the king welcomed him to his home, Nick's entire body trembled with the need to stop Malachi from being an asshole. He needed to spend the long weekend figuring out how to "persuade" the reporter to change his stance on the royal family, unable to contemplate having to read another disgusting report from the man.

"Nick, can you show Malachi around, please? And Malachi, please join us for dinner tonight."

Nick tensed. That hadn't been on the agenda. He pulled his phone from his pocket and messaged Brett, telling him what Andrew had just offered. Brett acknowledged the new information, and Nick took a breath before putting his phone away again.

It was going to be a shitshow.

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