Chapter 6

Malachi

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to intrude." Malachi still couldn't believe they had invited him to stay at Windsor Castle. He'd visited the property before with the open house they did for the public, but that time, he would get to see what the public didn't. It was exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.

The king waved his hand. "You're not intruding at all. We'd love for you to join us." He turned to Nick. "Thank you, Nick. Take care of him. I'll be at the luncheon today, but if you need anything, please let Brett know."

Nick winced and nodded. "I will, Your Majesty."

Malachi could see the tension in the bodyguard's body, and he sent him a smile, hopefully conveying how non-threatening he was. Nick narrowed his eyes, so Malachi didn't think he was successful. He couldn't blame him. After all, they all knew what he wrote. Could he explain to them? Would they care? No, he couldn't let them know. It was his problem, not theirs.

When Malachi had told Tucker about this opportunity, his boss had rubbed his hands and grinned. He'd known what would be ordered of him before Tucker even opened his mouth but to hear the words still hurt his insides. Finding whatever bad stuff he could on the royal family wasn't what he wanted to do, but he wouldn't be able to get away with not providing something. If he claimed they were "clean," using the word Tucker had despite hating it, the potential for repercussions concerned him.

Regardless, he would still be able to get his experience out there with his Kai name, even if he had to cover what he said with words about hearsay and whatever else he could use to hide that he was both people.

The king bid goodbye and headed off with several guards, and Malachi turned to Nick. "Where is the dinner tonight? Do I need a certain outfit?"

"It's at The Langley in Slough. I would recommend a suit if you have one. If not, we can arrange for one." Nick's words were gritted out through a clenched jaw, but at least he gave the information.

"I have a suit, so it's fine. I brought several, just in case I needed them." He gestured to his suitcase, and Nick winced.

"If your suits are in there, our first stop is the suite because you'll need to get them out to stop them from creasing."

Nick strode off, leaving Malachi to fumble behind him and catch up. His cheeks flamed at the rebuke, but he ignored it. Nick made no attempt to hide his contempt for him, and it was something Malachi was going to have to deal with during the long weekend. But for a behind-the-scenes look at his favourite pastime, he could deal with it. He'd barely slept for the past few days, not only because his nightmares showed flashes of images that he wasn't sure were real or not—images from that night—but because he was so excited to be there.

"I received a basic outline of what was planned while I was here. Can you expand on any of it?" he asked as they hurried down the corridors, so similar to the ones the public could see in their part of the castle.

Nick sighed, his vast shoulders lifting and falling as if he was shaking off a heavy weight. "Today, I will give you a tour of Windsor Castle. You will see some rooms and areas the royal family use."

Malachi's stomach gave a whirl, and he barely stopped himself from squealing like a child when they'd been given something they'd been asking for. He couldn't believe his dream was coming true.

His mother or grandmother were the best people to ask about when his infatuation with the royal family started. He could only remember that he'd spent far too much time as a child watching and reading whatever he could find about them. Funnily enough, he'd wanted to be a bodyguard and had taken up shooting as a hobby. It wasn't that he was obsessed as such, although some people might think he was—and they would probably have a good argument with that—but they were an enigma, in some ways. The Sutcliffes, to him, were the most visible family that showed how much the dynamic could change depending on the people who were at the pinnacle. But it wasn't just that. It was also that, over the years, he'd been able to see how much they had changed. How opinions had changed. How behaviours had changed. And how much more inclusive they were—if he ignored the bad seeds. Everything the royal family did was in the public eye, except for what happened behind closed doors, but even then, sometimes snippets of their personal lives managed to sneak out through the loose lips of former—or even current—employees.

That irked Malachi a little because he believed in trust, and for a current employee to talk about their employer, especially to a reporter, was not something he agreed with. Unfortunately, due to his wonderful boss—sarcasm was amazing when he needed it—he had the fantastic opportunity to talk with one of those staff members and write an article about it. Every single word of it felt like he had etched it onto his skin with the dullest blade he could find. It hurt. Soul deep hurt. And he'd called off sick from work for almost two weeks because of it.

Whenever he discussed why he wrote what he did with his grandmother, she always asked him the same question. Why do you do it? But she didn't mean it in the basic sense. He did it because he needed to make money, and he couldn't find a job that would take him to write anything else. When she said why do you do it, though, she meant it in a different way. And every time, Malachi didn't have an answer for her. Not one she would accept.

"Am I able to put my clothes away before we go on the tour?" Malachi asked Nick, distracting himself from his circling thoughts.

"I'm taking you to the suite now, but the clothes will have to wait—except the suit." Nick sighed. "I don't know how much they told you about how this is going to work, but we're sharing a suite this weekend. Don't even think about trying to sneak out and tour the place by yourself. You will have a guard with you at all times. Most likely me. It's a twenty-four-hour thing, and we will be sleeping, we will be eating, and we will be resting in between the activities we have planned. Do not make us regret our offer."

Nick's words were harsh and said through gritted teeth, and despite Malachi understanding where it was coming from, it hurt.

"I understand completely. I have no plans to do anything that would fuck this up."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Nick said, staring over his shoulder as he continued down the corridor.

Malachi swallowed hard and averted his gaze, looking at the decoration on the private side of Windsor Castle. His suitcase barely made a noise on the highly polished floor, and in intermittent places, there stood tables with plants on top. He wasn't sure if they were real or fake, but they looked well cared for.

"Here we are," Nick said, pulling a key from his pocket.

He unlocked the large ornate door and held it open for Malachi to roll his suitcase through. Malachi might have been on the public side of the building before, but it amazed him to be physically in one of the rooms himself, rather than seeing it from the rope boundary that stopped anyone from stepping inside. His eyes were only good enough to a degree, and the photos didn't do the room justice. The ceiling was vast, with a circular design surrounding two light fittings. The room itself was a living area with three large sofas, a large coffee table, several armchairs with tables between them, and a large table to the side holding a kettle and everything they would need to make drinks.

"Wow," Malachi said. "I can't believe I get to stay here."

"This is your room," Nick said, brushing past and heading for the door furthest from the entry—for obvious reasons.

Malachi withheld his sigh and followed him into the bedroom that could easily hold his house.

"Bloody hell. If you don't see me for a few days, you might have to send a search party," Malachi joked, but all he received was a glare. "I thought you were the funniest of the guards. That's what I was always told."

"Humour has its place, and it isn't now."

Malachi bit his lip to stop him from saying anything. He couldn't argue because all they knew was that he was Malachi Sanders, the reporter wanting to watch the royal family fall. They didn't know Kai Ruffers, the reporter wanting to celebrate the Sutcliffes in everything they do.

"I want to say thank you for what you did." He didn't stop what he was doing.

"It's no problem."

Knowing Nick didn't want to talk about it any longer, he left his suitcase beside the bed after removing the suits. "Are we heading out straight away?"

Nick tilted his head. "Why? Do you have somewhere else you need to be?"

Malachi wasn't one for confrontation, and even after giving himself that pep talk, he still wanted to stand up to Nick. But he refrained. For how long was another question.

"Nope. Just asking."

Nick put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor for several seconds before clearing his throat. "It's supposed to rain soon. I'd planned for us to visit the gardens before the weather stopped us. Is that okay with you?"

Malachi nodded. "That sounds great, thanks." He'd already seen it from his public visits, but he would take whatever olive branch Nick was offering—even if it was with gritted teeth.

Following Nick down the corridor after hanging his suits, they walked out into the gardens, and despite what Malachi had thought, it was an amazing sight. Being able to look down on it from where they were gave a different viewpoint from actually walking in it. He stared into the distance, the grey storm clouds swirling above their heads making visibility less than a clear day, but it was still impressive.

"I'm waiting for permission from Prince Frederick for a tour of Frogmore Cottage. Whether he agrees is up to him," Nick said.

Malachi hadn't even known that was on the table. It was so rare to see that house. "Oh, absolutely. I don't want anyone uncomfortable at having me around."

"Well, that's impossible. You're a reporter, and one who rakes the royals through the coals. How could anyone be comfortable around you when they have no idea how you're going to take their interactions? When they're worried you'll misconstrue everything they say or do."

Malachi looked away, ashamed once more. He wasn't wrong, but having it thrown in his face like that was never easy. If only he could tell him… It wouldn't matter. Nick had his opinions, and nothing Malachi said would change his mind.

"Maybe I should just go," Malachi said, his fingers digging into the stone wall surrounding the gardens.

Nick sighed. "No. The king wants you here. I'll do everything that's asked of me, but I don't have to like it." He put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground for a long second before meeting Malachi's gaze. "I apologise. I will try to temper my words."

"Please don't." Malachi surprised himself with his words, but when he thought about them, it was true. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, unable to meet Nick's penetrating eyes. He decided to tell some truth. "You might not believe me, but I don't want to write this. And your comments help remind me that while it's necessary, it's short term. So, please, feel free to tell me exactly how you feel." Even if it cuts into my chest every single time.

Nick didn't reply, and Malachi turned back to the view, letting the guard stew over his words. When raindrops hit the back of his hands and his face, Nick spoke again.

"We didn't have as much time as I thought, sorry."

Malachi waved him away, and they returned inside. "Where to now?" he asked instead.

"From here, we can visit the dining room and kitchens, the receiving room and Prince Consort Kendal's office. Is there anywhere in particular you were hoping to see? I can't guarantee it, but depending on what it is, I might be able to."

"No, thank you. This is wonderful." And it was. Just because they didn't like him didn't mean he couldn't get some pleasure out of living his dream.

"Okay, then."

Nick led the way back inside, and Malachi followed, desperate for every glimpse of the place he'd wanted to visit as a kid. It was similar to the public side—he assumed that was to keep in tradition with the family's ancestors—but there were small differences. Like the flowers on the hall tables. They were different varieties to those on the public side. Was that a conscious effort to have flowers the family liked, or was it nothing of the sort? Or was Malachi thinking too deeply when it was nothing of notice? Probably, but he wanted to know everything about them. He always had.

"Here is the Sutcliffes' family dining room. As you can see, it's not much different from a usual dining room, if you exclude the size." Nick's mouth twitched as if he was making a joke, and Malachi smiled.

"I bet even this isn't big enough when everyone comes for dinner," he said, studying the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. They were chandeliers but much different from the ones he'd seen before.

"Not with how much the family is growing, no."

"Can I ask, is this where they always eat or just on special occasions?"

Nick cleared his throat. "They're like any other family, I think. They try to eat together as much as possible, but it's not always. Sometimes, they like some quiet time and have dinner in their suites." Nick glanced at him. "They're human, Malachi."

"I know, but it's sometimes hard to see that with what is in the media." He knew he'd said the wrong thing the minute he finished and wasn't at all surprised when Nick crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

"You can't trust the media, though. They spread lies like wildfire. Even the most mundane word, action or behaviour gets misconstrued into something not even remotely like it was intended."

"That's true." It was all he could say. No one would believe he was doing the best he could with what options he had, so there wasn't any point in trying to change their minds.

After a brief, strained silence, Nick said, "You'll be joining them for dinner this evening. Not here, but at the opening of a new restaurant in Slough."

"Is a suit okay to wear? That's really all I brought."

Nick nodded. "It will be fine. If you need anything you don't have, we can arrange for it."

"No, please don't go to any trouble. If I don't have something at home I can collect, I just won't attend to make it easier on everyone."

Nick stepped closer. "But that won't make it easier. People know you're here, and if you don't attend certain things, it will look poorly on the royal family. Like they were keeping you from seeing everything. I won't allow you to make them look worse than you already do."

Malachi's breath left him, and he stared at Nick, seeing the protective air around him almost visibly shimmer. It wasn't possible, of course, but that was what it looked like. Nick's shoulders were broad enough to take over much of his vision, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from his face. All rigid lines and harsh features. Even his lips were strong and full. He'd probably be able to crack a bone with those lips. When he realised he'd been staring at Nick's lips for too long, he blinked and met his gaze again. Something sparked in those depths, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it was. Recalling Nick's last words, Malachi nodded, accepting the truth in them.

"Okay then. Let's visit the private kitchen."

Malachi followed Nick like a lost puppy, trying hard to ignore the attraction he had just realised he had. It explained a lot about why he sought Nick out when he covered events and visits. But why did he have to have a crush on one of the most out of his league, no way in hell people on the planet? Nick wouldn't touch him with a stick if he was the last person on the planet, so what did it matter?

The kitchen was already bustling, and the scents of the food together created an unusual mix. He received a few smiles from the household staff and a few glares, but he'd needed to get used to that quickly in his job. Soon, though. Soon, he could tell everyone that he was Kai Ruffers. Soon.

"Do you have any questions, or are you ready to move on?" Nick asked.

"Moving on is good."

He did have some questions, but they were more for the staff, and he wasn't sure he was allowed to talk to them. He'd ask later and then request another visit if he was.

In the meantime, he had to get through a couple more hours of hostility before he could escape to his room to get ready.

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