Spy Girl (19 page)

“Ari said they were delivered while I was out this morning shopping for a dress.”

“And did you find one?”

“That was the good thing about the photo in the paper. Everyone in the stores was very helpful. And I did.”

“What does it look like?”

“What little there is of it is silver and fringy.” He nuzzles his face into my neck then slowly kisses his way to my mouth. I honestly fully expected I’d have to fend him off if I sat topless with him in a bath, but he’s behaving very well.
 

Although part of me wishes he wouldn’t. I’m torn between my own desire and what I deem to be good for my mission.

I move onto the Prince’s lap. He smiles and wraps his arms around me and continues talking. I’m thinking that he doesn’t usually talk much to the girls he sleeps with. It helps that conversation flows easily between us.

“Before we go, I have to meet with the Saudi Prince again. He says his country is still concerned about our shipping lanes allowing him passage to Europe.”

“Why?” I ask, running my hands gently through his hair. I need to get his take on it all. I also wonder what the Saudis have heard that has made them nervous. “Is he a friend?”

Lorenzo squints, an imperceptible twitch that tells me
no
—regardless of what comes out of his mouth next.
 

“He feels our military is lacking, but we have controlled the Strait for over four hundred years,” he says, suddenly holding up his hand and studying it. “My hand is gold.”

“I’ll take all the glitter, so I will sparkle tonight.” I laugh, taking his hands and rubbing them down the front of me. “I can see why the Prince is worried, though, things have changed in the world.”

He glances at the clock letting me know that bath time is over, so we swim over to where the towels are.

“Yes, terrorism is an unfortunate side effect—”

“I’ve never really understood that,” I say, wrapping a fluffy towel around me. He does the same, and we sit on a bench and continue to talk.

“Terrorism? Extremism?”
 

“Yeah. I mean look through a history book. People have been killing each other for centuries in the name of religion, and I don’t get it. Nearly every religion teaches peace. Man’s ability to twist whatever gospel they believe—is where we get into trouble. People laugh at pageant contestants who say they want world peace, but isn’t that what we should all want?”

“All you need is love? Do you believe that?”
 

“If we truly loved our fellow man, yeah, I do. Have you ever heard of the Terra Project?”

“No. Wait, yes. Clarice was speaking of it the other night. But I don’t know what it is all about.”

I give him an overview.
 

“Interesting concept, but I don’t think it could work. You still need currency to barter. And a government to back the currency. Plus, I like things the way they are.”

To prove his point, his phone dings on the table next to me. I pick it up and hand it to him, noticing the text that says:
My kitty misses you
and is followed by a photo—of which you can assume is
not
her cat.
 

I laugh, goofily. Who the hell in the basement of Black X ever thought I had a chance in hell of capturing the Prince’s attention when cooter pics are sent to him daily?

“Friend or acquaintance?” I ask.

He tilts his head, considering. “Acquaintance, who
wants
to be a friend.”

“More like a princess. I bet that sucks, though, sometimes—having women throw themselves at you.”

He tries not to smile. It’s clear he doesn’t agree. He loves this shit. “Isn’t it every man’s fantasy?” he asks, taking another sip of champagne.

“I suppose, but what if it’s like anything you gorge on? Eventually, you lose your taste for it—or worse, grow to hate it. It would really be a shame if you lost the taste for kitty.”

He blows champagne out of his mouth, laughing. “You are funny.” He caresses my hair. “Would you like to be the one I gorge on?”

I back away. “I’d rather gorge on love, because that’s the one thing you never get sick of.”

“Hopeless romantic?”

“Maybe.”
 

“Yet, your first night in town you went home with a guy from the casino.”

“How would you know that?”

“He talks. Says you’re wild.”

“He was so drunk, he passed out before any wildness could take place,” I lie. In reality, I may have shot him with a tranquilizer dart and drug him to bed.

“You spent the night. When he woke up, you were naked.”

“No, I was wearing
exactly
what I’m wearing now—albeit, a larger version. Basically, I was wearing what one would to the beach in your lovely country.”

“You were in an evening gown at the casino.”

“Which was entirely hand beaded. I would have ruined the dress had I slept in it.”

“So, he lied?”

“Well, I may have led him to believe we’d had a good night.”

“Why?”

“Before I realized he was shit-faced, he was sweet to me.”

“How so?”

“I was at the bar and someone made a nasty comment about my dress. He told the guy to shut the fuck up. It was chivalrous, and I appreciate that in a man.”

“Sounds like you need a prince.”

“Oh, for gosh sake, give it a rest. You’re a prince. I get it. If I succumb to his royal sexual wishes, maybe I could live a fairytale. No thanks.”

“No thanks?” He’s taken aback.

I lean toward him, my towel purposely slipping a little in the front. “Lorenzo, if all I wanted to do was screw you, I would have already.”

“You were straddling me in the mermaid bath,” he counters. “And you said you care about me in front of my mother.”

“I’m not saying I’m not attracted to you, but when you drop all the prince shit and be yourself, I really like you. You’re funny. Smart. Interesting to talk to. I enjoy your company.”

For this I get a grin. “I enjoy your company, too. I’ve had a lovely day and am looking forward to a wonderful evening.” He glances at his phone. “I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.”
 

“Then, I’ll have to join you later. I’m afraid it’ll take longer than that for me to get ready. Hair and makeup isn’t due for another twenty minutes.”

“I took the liberty of acquiring the dress from the fashion show for you to wear to the Queen’s Ball.”

“So I’d sleep with you?”

He grins and pulls me closer. “Huntley, if all I wanted to do was screw you, I would have already.”
 

I swallow hard as my body heats up again. He says it like a threat as he holds a robe out for me. I slide off the wet bottoms, gently rub the plush towel across my skin to dry it, and then drop it to the floor—allowing him a full shot of me naked—before slipping into the robe.
 

As he grabs the belt and securely cinches it around my waist, he sighs heavily, acting as if the belt is the only thing keeping us apart.

He strips out of his euro-Speedo, eyes me—he’s got a nice semi going on—and wraps a towel around his waist, shielding it from my view.

And I know without a doubt I’m going to have to sleep with him soon.

X X
X

He goes to his meeting while I get ready. Along with my dress for tonight, there is a box adorned with an elaborately embroidered silk. Inside is a credit card to allow me entry—and probably to prevent people from crashing—along with a scroll declaring the party details. It’s quite luxe, and I’ve never seen an invitation like it.

After my hair and makeup is complete, I dress and then go into the billiards room and play darts to pass the time.

“Remind me to never play with you,” Lorenzo says, entering the room and eyeing my score, which consists of five bullseyes and one just outside ring. “You’re a ringer.”

“No, I never lie about my dart throwing abilities,” I tease.
 

“You look gorgeous. That is quite the dress.”

“You don’t think it’s too scandalous?”

“I love a good scandal,” he says, pulling me into his arms and kissing my neck.

The party is ridiculous. The yacht is worth at least three hundred million dollars and is decked out in more of the embroidered silk from the invitations. The guests are all A-list, with royalty, celebrities, drivers, and more beautiful people and designer clothing than I have ever seen in one place. The security is tight, and I find myself relaxing and just enjoying the atmosphere and my date, who holds my hand and adorably introduces me to everyone he knows.
 

I haven’t seen Ari since we arrived, but he did send me a text earlier. It was just a heart, meaning that Gallagher is one of the good guys.
 

I’m returning from a quick trip to the ladies room when I run smack dab into the British spy. The hallway is narrow, and he makes it feel tighter by placing his hand above the wall near my shoulder and leaning toward me.
 

“I saw you on the Royal Yacht in your bikini today. The French Barbie twins on the neighboring boat were jealous.”

“Because I was alone with the Prince?”

“Mostly because of how you looked in your bikini.”
 

I give pause. Is my idol flirting with me?
 

Well, I can flirt back. “How old are you?”

He leans closer. “Old enough to know better. I shouldn’t be sending gifts to someone so young, but I couldn’t resist.”

“It was nice of you.” I bat my eyelashes at him, causing him to swallow hard.

As in I just made the great Intrepid react, sexually. My instructor in hand-to-hand combat told me being a girl was one of my greatest weapons, because I would be underestimated by my adversaries.
 

“I have to be honest with you,” he says. “I bought it because—”
 

“You want me to introduce you to the twins?”

“Will they be at your party?”

“No.”

“I’d still like to come.”

“Why?”

He leans closer again. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I slide under his arm and back away. “Actually, it’s not.”

“Fine. I’d like to meet the Prince.”

“So go talk to him now.”

He sighs like he’s about to tell me a big secret. Like I wore him down, but I know better. One of his documented abilities was recruitment—his ability to get normal citizens to help him in the name of The Crown. I also read that his bullshit meter is high—that he can spot a lie from a mile away. I’m going to have to be totally on my game whenever he’s around.

“I’m going to tell you the truth,” he says. “I’m not here for the race. I work for a government that’s worried about the Prince’s safety.”

“So why don’t you have your government call their government and set up a meeting?”

“Because his government isn’t throwing your party.”

“Do you think someone is going to try to kill the Prince at my party?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh, huh. And exactly which government do you work for?”
 

“British.”

“So you’re a real-life James Bond? Wow.” I laugh in his face. “You know, if you’re trying to seduce me, you’re working way too hard. The purse was a good start. You should have followed it up with a kiss, not some ridiculously crazy story.”

“I believe the Prince is in danger, and so are you.”

“And how do I know he’s not in danger from you?” I kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the bag.”

Take that, Intrepid.

The rest of the evening continues with exquisite food and flowing drinks. The Prince and I take to the dance floor for a couple of hours until he asks if I’d like to go somewhere more private.

He takes my hand and leads me off the boat and toward the water, not back to his car like I expected.
 

“Where are you going?” the Prince’s security asks.
 

“I’d like to show the lovely Miss Von Allister the gorgeous view of our great city at night.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
 

“I’m not asking for permission, Juan. This is a completely unplanned whim. Common sense tells us that anyone out to get me would have done so at the party. They couldn’t scramble fast enough to plan anything right now. We’ll be quick and perfectly safe.”

He leads me to the end of the dock then turns me around to take in the view of Cap. The lights go up the hillside, showing off beautiful homes and a few sleek high-rises.
 

“It’s gorgeous,” I say, turning to face him.

He puts his lips on mine. “I think I’m falling for you, Huntley.”

“You’re standing next to the water at the end of a dock. One little push and you’d literally be falling,” I tease, gently putting my hand against his chest and pretending to push.

He grabs my hand and flops backwards, taking us both into the water.

I take a deep breath just as we hit but still come up sputter-choking.

“You are totally insane! I love it. Even though you probably just ruined my dress.”

“I’ll buy you ten new ones.” He pulls me close, kissing me.

"Your Royal Highness!” his bodyguard yells as a flashlight beams down on us.
 

He doesn’t reply, just threads his hands through my hair and deepens our kiss with a dart of his tongue. The Prince is polite and well-mannered, asking for permission rather than assuming. It’s sweet.
 

And fun to play along. Although, it’s a little difficult to concentrate on kissing someone and feeling super sexy when your beaded cocktail dress suddenly feels like it weighs about two hundred thousand pounds, and even though you float in the salt water, you find yourself needing to tread water every so often so that you don’t ruin your mission by drowning the Prince yourself, who is too busy caressing your back to worry about those pesky details.