Spy Girl (20 page)

It’s also hard to kiss a prince who you are supposed to be protecting. Especially when you should have your eyes open to scan the area for danger—from assassins, sharks, whatever—and you’re seriously considering using the knife blade in your shoe to cut yourself free of your dress.
 

I wiggle my toes. Shit. My shoes have drowned.

His hands move to cup my ass and give it a little squeeze.
 

I pull out of his embrace. “You know, it would be a pity if the newspapers reported tomorrow that our cause of death was that we were drowned by a beaded party dress.”

He chuckles. “You, Lee, make me laugh.”

“What did you just call me?” I ask as a memory flashes though my brain—fast and painful. But I have to ignore it.

“Lee, like short for Hunt-ley. I didn’t think anyone probably called you Hunt. I’m sorry if that’s too forward of me.”

“You just had your tongue in my mouth and your hands on my ass, I’d say you’ve already been forward.”

“And?”

“I like it. On both accounts.”

He snaps his fingers, and two guards appear at the top of the dock. He helps the guards hoist all six hundred pounds of me out of the water.

The top of my silk chiffon dress has become transparent, allowing everyone in the vicinity—including two photographers who start snapping photos of me—to see my braless boobs, which are at attention from both the make-out session and the cool night air. The Prince’s bodyguard graciously slips his jacket on me while the Prince comes up the ladder—which would have been my preference instead of looking like a damsel in distress being hoisted out.
 

“Prince Lorenzo! Prince Lorenzo, what happened?” the paparazzi yell.

“I got fresh, and Miss Von Allister threatened to push me in the water. Being the cad I am, I pulled her in with me.”

I’m about to give a witty comeback when a red dot skitters across the Prince’s head.
 

And I know what that means.

My heart races—adrenaline pumping through me.

I react immediately by leaping on top of him and knocking him to the deck just as a bullet hits one of the yachts behind us, quickly followed by the sound of a gun’s retort.
 

The weapon is silenced but still makes a sound that you can’t miss.

I know it won’t take long for the shooter to align the next shot.
 

I grab the Prince around the waist and quickly roll us back off the dock and into the water. Based on the trajectory of the shot, the shooter is higher than us and that puts us at a big disadvantage.
 

Another shot hits the dock right where we were just lying and whizzes into the water.
 

I grab the Prince and pull him toward a boat, so we can use it as cover. Although a shot to one of the boat’s fuel cells could cause us a lot of damage, I try not to think about that. Staying in the darkened water and with our heads low, I drag the Prince to safety.
 

The reporters scream. The Prince’s guards yell for them to take cover while shouting orders to each other. They radio for backup and send men to search for the shooter.
 

But another shot rings out. This one hits the water where we rolled in, but is not close to where we are now.
 

I take a deep breath. I just saved the Prince.
 

Again.

What I need to do right now is capture the shooter and interrogate him, but it would probably look a tad suspicious if I took off running.
 

Maybe the guards will find and arrest him.

In the meantime, I need to keep the handsome man in front of me safe.
 

“We almost got shot,” he states numbly.

“Yes, I think someone just tried to kill you again,” I whisper. “Let’s climb up onto this boat.” I point at the ladder on a small yacht. The boat is dark and appears to be empty. I lost my clutch and shoes earlier. No way to get in touch with Ari for back up.
 

“You’re shivering,” the Prince says, wrapping his arms around me.

“So are you. It’s the adrenaline rush. We’re coming down. And we’re wet.”

He holds me close. “Did you just save my life again?”

“Maybe.”

“How did you know?”

Before I can answer, twenty guards board the yacht, and I’m pulled away from the Prince.

“Stop it,” he tells them. “Let her go.”

“Your Highness, you narrowly escaped another assassination attempt.”

“Only because
she
jumped on me.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little convenient?”

“I’d say so, otherwise I’d be dead. No thanks to you lot.”

“How did she know a shot was about to be fired, when your elite force did not?”

They all turn to me in question.

“There was a little red dot.” I point to a spot on my own forehead.

“And you just happened to know that red light was from the scope of a sniper’s rifle?”

“I like action movies. I just reacted.” I shrug and try to look bewildered by it all.

The Prince marches through the guards and takes my face in his hands.
 

“Thank you.” He shows his gratitude by giving me another sweet but epic kiss. Then he wraps an arm around me and turns to the guards. “You should be out looking for the shooter.”

“We are, sir.”
 

“Then get us home.”

Once at the castle and in the privacy of his bedroom, Lorenzo pulls me into a frantic kiss, then we strip each other out of our cold, wet clothes. We’re naked and tightly pressed against each other, the heat warming us both.
 

It’s clear that he wants to sleep with me.
 

And my body is responding in like.
 

He runs his mouth up my neck and says, “I greatly desire you.”

And I desire him too. I’m attracted to him. Sleeping with him would be good for my mission. So what’s stopping me?

I close my eyes, instantly recalling a single dimple and brilliant blue eyes. I take a deep breath. “Lorenzo, I greatly desire you, as well, but I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

His finger circles my nipple. “Why not?”

“Because we’re all pumped up from surviving yet another attack together. I don’t want that to interfere with how wonderful our courtship has been so far.”

“Neither do I, but I think—”

We’re interrupted by a knock on his door. “Prince Lorenzo,” Juan says from the other side. “I’m afraid our national agency and military would like you to attend an emergency meeting. There is talk of calling off the race. Or putting you under house arrest until the threat passes.”

“Do you know how long it will take?” he replies, still clutching me.

“Sorry, I do not.”

Lorenzo reluctantly lets go of me. “Would you like to relax in my quarters until I’m finished? Although I regret that I have no idea when that will be.”

“Would it be okay if I just went home? I wasn’t home all day, and I’m supposed to meet with the caterers in the morning to finalize the brunch menu for race day. Although, I suppose we should consider cancelling that too.”

“Don’t be silly. We won’t be cancelling either, and I
will be
attending both events. Get some sleep, my sweet, and I will call on you tomorrow. I will have Juan see you home.”

He hands me a cashmere lounger to wear and quickly gets dressed in black slacks and a sweater. His hair is still damp, and he looks delicious, but we only have time for a quick goodbye kiss.
 

When I get home, I leave a note on Ellis’s desk requesting a new phone.
 

On the way to my room, I stop to see if Ari is home, but he’s not. I also discover that neither are Peter and Allie, which I guess isn’t that big of a surprise as they mentioned that the yacht party would go on all night long. I guess I sort of thought the shots fired at the docks might have slowed it down, but no one probably heard it over the loud, pumping music.

I change out of Lorenzo’s clothes, take a long hot shower, then grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge in my suite. T
here’s a document on my bedside table with a full write up on Intrepid who, contrary to popular belief, is not retired.
 

I sit at my desk, take some stationary out of the drawer, and write him a proper thank-you note for the evening bag and tuck in an invitation to brunch. I drop it off on Ellis’s desk along with instructions to find out where William Gallagher is staying and to deliver it to him in the morning. Then I burn the documents about him in the fireplace.

When I get back to my room, I find Daniel lying across my bed wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
 

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay. Thought I could stay with you,” he replies, his blue eyes glittering.

“Embassy housing full?” I ask, sitting on the bed next to him.

“Actually, it is. I forgot to tell them I was coming back. Speaking of that, Lorenzo told me
you slept with that British guy from the club.”

“I went back to his place. I slept in his bed, but he passed out. We didn’t have sex.”

“You should have called me.”

“You weren’t in town yet. Who I should have called was Ellis, but it was very late and he’d been working hard on the impromptu pool party we decided to throw.”

“It bothered me that you went home with him.”

“Why?”

“It bothered the Prince, too.”

“Why would it bother him?”

“He likes you.”

“He’s
liked
a lot of girls,” I counter, rolling my eyes.

“He thinks you’re different.”

“Probably because I didn’t fall into bed with him.”

He grabs the front of his shirt that I’m wearing and slowly unbuttons it, holding my gaze. “Like you did with me?”

I give him a smirk. “And here I thought you took me home for pizza and video games.”

“I took you home because you’re beautiful,” he says, sliding the shirt off my shoulder and kissing it. “I slept with you because you’re fun to be around.” His lips work their way up my neck until his face is right in front of mine. I get the dimple. “Plus, I couldn’t let you continue to kick my ass at Battleground. I had to distract you.”

“You weren’t trying to distract me. I got naked and sat on your lap.”

He nips at my lip then leans us back on the bed. “I liked that.
So, have you banged the Prince yet?”

“If you and the Prince are so close, you should ask him yourself.”

“I’m asking you,” he says, trailing his hand up my thigh.

“It’s none of your business, but if you must know, he has more old-fashioned values.”

“Bullshit, he’s screwed more women than . . .
Oh
.” Daniel’s hand stops moving and he exhales deeply, almost like he just got punched in the gut.

“Oh, what?”

“He actually likes you.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“He might be a prince, but I rocked your world.” He’s right. He did, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
 

“You rocked my world?” I tease. “What, is this the 90s?”

His hand moves further up, his finger twisting around the lace of my thong, as he kisses me. “You know we’re good together.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He stops kissing me to pull a tabloid off the nightstand and shove it in my face. “I picked this up at the airport. They’re already talking engagement.”

“That’s because Ophelia and Viktor got engaged at the—”

“No, they’re talking about
your
future engagement.”

“Do you care what they say?”

“Depends if it’s true.”

“Daniel,” I sigh.

“What?”
 

I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I don’t want to say this. But I have to. For the good of my mission. “You’re welcome to stay here at the villa, just not in my room.”

He nods but doesn’t move. I sit up, buttoning the shirt.
 

He cups my cheek in his hand. “Are you in love with Lorenzo?”

“I care for him.”

“And do you care for me?”

I gulp even though I was trained not to give away my feelings through nonverbal communication. Lying is second nature for me. I’m good at it. But I can’t seem to lie to him. Not about this.
 

I look down and simply nod. Because I do care about him even though I shouldn’t. Even though I just met him. Even though I have no reason to trust him.

“Then I’ll stay in the room next door,” he says, getting out of bed and picking up his clothes. “I want to be close by. I heard about the attempts on his life and fear you may be in danger by association. It was way too easy for me to sneak into your room.”

“I really don’t want you to leave,” I admit.

“I can just sleep in here, if you want. We don’t have to, you know. I just want to keep you safe.”

Which is as soothing as it is ironic.

MISSION:
DAY SEVEN

Two men are alone in a large, ornate library having a terse discussion.

“The papers say she’s going to be the next Princess of Montrovia. She may be doing part of her mission a little too well.”

“She’s saved him from three separate assassination attempts. I’d say that’s pretty damn good for a brand new agent.”

“Yes, but is she making any progress on the case?”

The former Dean of Blackwood Academy frowns but does not reply.

“I’d hate to see all her training go to waste because she decides she’d rather be royal. Maybe we need to dangle a carrot in front of her.”

“I think you’re playing with fire.”

“Do what you need to do, old man.”

“Do you have no conscience? Have you ever stopped to think about what effect this could have on her? She’s just a girl.”