Page 12 of Fool’s Gold

Jack turned his face away. “Christ, you’re an idiot.”

Matt didn’t bother looking at him. “If you’d like to go dance the night away and drink champagne, be my guest. Stay the night. Hop a plane and head back to Corvia. Just don’t come back. I’ll give you a hundred grand on top of whatever the hell Five Star is paying you to stay away.”

Kingston cleared his throat.

Van Allen stepped in. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work for Their Highnesses. While Prince Daniel is ostensibly on a diplomatic mission, his real mission is humanitarian. How much do you know about Corvia?”

Matt groaned. He hadn’t gotten up this morning expecting a geography quiz. “We have a small facility there in partnership with a local pharmaceutical manufacturer. We make calcium channel blockers there? Um... didn’t they have some kind of major royal scandal there maybe a year ago?”

“More or less.” Van Allen grinned. “The current crown prince, Eric, has stabilized things a bit. His husband, Daniel, is an American. And previously worked for Five Star. Prince Eric is also a scientific genius and has been collecting similar people in Corvia since he returned. Their Highnesses want to discuss something specific with you, in person, but it would be too obvious if Eric arrived or if they sent for you to go there. Therefore...”

Matt took a deep breath. He still hated the idea of going, but he clearly didn’t have a choice. Of course, the fallout from going would hit him, and no one else. “All right. I think I’ve got a tuxedo somewhere. It’s been a minute since I’ve had to wear it.”

“Didn’t you wear it to the last company Christmas party?” Jack yawned. He’d sprawled on the windowsill behind Matt, displacing several piles of financial statements. He looked depressingly good like that, good enough that Matt didn’t even mind the mess he’d made of the old financials. Well, he didn’t mind much.

“Didn’t go.” Matt looked away as quickly as he could. “Anyway, where’s this shindig taking place?”

“Chattahoochee Nature Center. Tonight.”

Matt knew there was no getting out of it. “I don’t suppose I can bring a plus one?” Norah would never say as much, but she’d get a real kick out of meeting an actual, real-life prince. They probably had time to get her something formal to wear, right?

“That would be me, big guy.” Jack had stood up at some point. Now he patted Matt on the back. “I can’t wait to get you out on the dance floor.”

“Not taking me up on that hundred grand, huh?” Matt glared. And okay, maybe there was something appealing about getting out on the dance floor with Jack, but only up until he opened his mouth. “I know he can’t be paying youthatmuch.”

Van Allen cleared his throat. “So anyway, we’ll pick the two of you up at seven at your place, Mr. Taggart.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Matt knew he sounded like a sullen teenager, so he tried to pull himself together. “Please tell His Highness I’m looking forward to making his acquaintance.”

The diplomatic protection squad left. Matt stood up and headed for the elevator.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jack and Kingston both jogged to catch up to him.

“I’m going to make sure my tux still fits. What you do between now and then is up to you. But I’m not asking them to wait for you. Punctuality is the soul of virtue and all that.” Matt hit the door close button before Jack could get into the elevator.

Yes, it was petty. Maybe it would be petty enough to get his point across.

Unfortunately, Jack and Kingston arrived at the apartment not long after Matt.

“Real dick move, Taggart.” Jack stalked into Matt’s room after him.

“Don’t talk like that in front of Gram. She deserves better.” Matt reached into the back of his stupidly big closet and looked for his tux.

“Then don’t be a dick, and I won’t have to be coarse in front of her, will I? Besides, it’s not my fault if she’s too much of a Southern belle to hear a little bit of coarse language.”

Matt returned to the bedroom. He needed to try the suit on, so if Jack wasn’t going to give him his privacy, he’d have to strip down right in front of him. He did so. “Southern belle? This isn’tGone With The Wind, jackass. Gram was a sharecropper. She raised five kids by herself, and then she took me in and raised me on her own when my mom couldn’t. Southern belle my ass.”

The tux didn’t feel tight on him. If anything, it was too loose. Well, he didn’t have time to get it altered. He’d have to live with it the way it was.

Jack was staring at him.

“What. Does it have a stain? I haven’t worn it since I made director at AsturiasFabian.” He turned around, trying to get a view.

“No, it doesn’t have a stain. It’s fine. How the hell were you a sharecropper? You were the CFO of a Fortune 500 firm!”

“Fortune 50, thank you. Scholarships.” Matt glared again, then grabbed cufflinks from a drawer in his closet. “Do you own a tuxedo?”

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