[Spy Girl 01.0 - 02.0] Spy Girl Duet

by Jillian Dodd

  “That depends. Do you think I had anything to do with the men at the castle yesterday?”

  He takes my hand. “No, I do not. It’s just that I surprised them with our visit.” He looks around and lowers his voice. “You can’t be in a leadership role in any country in today’s world and not be threatened. That is the downside to dating me.”

  “Is this a date?”

  He touches my face tenderly. “I certainly would like it to be.”

  “Then I accept your apology.”

  He smiles then seals it with a sweet kiss. “And you mustn’t leave my side all day. It will likely be a stuffy affair but is filled with interesting and prominent people from around the world. Many of whom you will be seeing more of during the weekend’s festivities.”

  I turn and scan the crowd. “I’d like to meet them all, then,” I say, hoping it will help me uncover the plot and find the bad guys.

  His eyes brighten. “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let’s start by greeting my mother, the host of this event. You should know it was only with her help that I was able to attain the hat.”

  “The hat is my favorite thing. The only kind of hat I’ve ever worn is a baseball cap. And a beret once when I tried to dress French.”

  The Prince laughs. “You are adorable.” His hand moves to the small of my back as he escorts me across the lawn. He’s moving at a good clip, his fast pace probably signaling that he doesn’t want to stop to chat along the way.

  The Queen greets me with an actual hug—something Europeans don’t usually do to acquaintances. “Thank you for helping my son stay out of danger yesterday,” she whispers.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures to a woman standing on her left. “Anna, I’d like to present to you Huntley Von Allister. Your work looks stunning on her.” She points to my hat, or fascinator, whichever this technically is.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Von Allister. Would you mind taking a picture with me?”

  I say sure and then the Queen decides to join us. The milliner’s arms aren’t very long, so I use her phone to take a selfie of the three of us.

  Then I’m introduced to a whole lot of people. So many that even with my excellent memory for details, it’s hard to keep track. I was hoping someone would stand out. Look nervous, smarmy, or like a killer, but they don’t.

  Once we’ve made the rounds, we work our way back to where we started, with Peter, Allie, and Ari who are chatting with the Prince’s cousins and their boyfriends.

  The Prince excuses himself, telling me he’ll be right back.

  My initial assessment of Clarice’s boyfriend, Armend, is correct. His eyes affect me in a negative way. I should be keeping watch on him, just in case. The fact that they met only a few weeks ago and he’s suddenly here in the midst of royalty is bothersome.

  Of course, I suppose the same could be said of me. I’ve known the Prince for all of three days. But it’s Ophelia’s boyfriend who I can’t stop watching. Viktor looks very uncomfortable. Nervous. He’s sweating and fidgety. I run what little about him I know through my head. Family chum of Peter Prescott. Father originally from Russia, who owns an international shipping business and as a hobby became the top yacht builder in the world. Mother is a well-known retired French prima ballerina whose father held a senior minister position in the French government.

  Viktor has one hand in his pocket and is looking more and more nervous.

  Like someone about to commit a crime, possibly?

  Clarice turns to Peter. “Just yesterday I was telling my friend who joined the Peace Corps about your father’s new interests in the world’s water. I don’t believe anyone should be allowed to own our water. It should be free to all. But he’s been buying up water around the world. I’d like to talk to him about the Terra Project.”

  I quell any reaction I have when I hear those words. Ari and I share a glance.

  “What’s the Terra Project?” he asks.

  “It’s a resource based economy, where all people will share and work together to build a better future world. Everyone would have equal access to shelter, water, healthcare, and food. It’s about changing incentives and technological processes on a global scale. For example, there would be no monetary system.”

  “It seems hard to imagine a world without money,” Peter says haughtily. “Can’t see my dad being interested in that.”

  “Well, a long time ago, before there was money and power, people bartered for everything. The idea is also to take care of our planet by becoming a green society.”

  I’m trying to focus on what she’s saying, but I can’t because Viktor still has one hand in his pocket and is looking more and more nervous. He takes out his hankie and wipes sweat from his brow.

  “Hot one today,” he states to no one in particular.

  “Why don’t you take off your jacket?” I suggest.

  “Uh, no,” he says, and I’m really starting to worry about what’s in his pocket.

  Or under his jacket.

  When the Prince strides toward us, Viktor starts to move.

  I’m on edge, ready to pounce on him at the first sign of a weapon. If we were closer to the trees, I’d pull him out of sight and search him, but that’s not possible.

  The Prince winks at me and takes my hand. Then he asks all of us, including Viktor—who now looks as if he’s about to have a stroke—to join him at the fountain.

  We all move in that direction, and I make sure to put myself in position between the Prince and Viktor.

  “If everyone could gather around,” the Prince announces to the crowd. I glance at the snipers on the roof, to see if they are still paying attention. But if Viktor pulls a gun, the snipers couldn’t react quickly enough. It would be up to Ari and me. Ari imperceptibly touches my hand. I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking as he moves to flank the other side of the Prince.

  The Prince’s personal bodyguard apparently is supposed to follow five steps behind because that’s exactly where he has been all day. Close, but not close enough, in my opinion.

  The crowd does as they are asked and gathers around the fountain.

  Viktor looks crazy. Surely, he wouldn’t shoot the Prince right here in front of everyone, would he?

  Viktor takes Ophelia’s hand and gets down on one knee.

  “Ophelia Louise Marchesa Vallenta, will you marry me?”

  Ophelia doesn’t look the least bit surprised by his proposal. She doesn’t cry. Doesn’t jump up and down. Doesn’t jump into his arms and scream.

  “I will,” she says flatly, like she’s closed a business deal not accepted his promise of everlasting love.

  They hug and everyone claps.

  Viktor’s hand finally leaves his pocket, producing a box with a large engagement ring.

  I let out a sigh. No wonder he was so damn nervous. Proposing in front of all of these people combined with the fear of losing the ring would make anyone sweat.

  Champagne is quickly passed around and the whole group, nearly six hundred in attendance, toast to the happy couple.

  “You can thank me for the vintage champagne,” the Prince says, turning to me and clinking my glass.

  “Is that where you were off to?”

  He smiles at me, takes a sip, and says, “I missed you while I was gone.”

  “You were gone for a very short while.”

  “I expected to come back and find you surrounded by men.”

  “There are snipers on the roof of your castle. Somehow I doubt anyone would choose today to try to steal your date.”

  He laughs. It’s an easy, sexy laugh followed by another sweet kiss, which causes me to relax.

  We’re still in the crowd around the newly engaged when Clarice asks me about yesterday’s attack. “I heard you were here.”

  “Lorenzo wanted to give me a tour.”

  “Of the royal bed chamber, no doubt,” someon
e mumbles.

  “Although, first I met his father,” I continue, ignoring the snide comment. The people around us were all chattering up a storm, but when I mention visiting the King, a hush spreads over the area as all eyes turn toward me.

  “You met King Vallenta?” Clarice asks. “That’s a big deal.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Enzo never introduces the women he dates to his parents,” she explains.

  Lorenzo squeezes my hand, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation is going.

  “Well, maybe that’s why he did. We aren’t dating,” I reply with a shrug.

  “No, you don’t understand. He wouldn’t introduce his father to anyone he wasn’t serious about romantically. Isn’t that right, Enzo?”

  The Prince doesn’t reply, instead he pulls me away from the group.

  “Please, don’t listen to them. Everyone is on my case about taking a wife.”

  “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

  “At least Ophelia is older than me, so she should be getting married before I do.”

  “Do you like Viktor?”

  “Of course, he and I go way back. He can be a bit of a cad, but he’s certainly well-connected. I’m convinced that he and Peter Prescott will eventually own the world someday. So, we would do well to be friends with them.”

  “What makes you say that?” I ask seriously.

  “I’m joking,” he laughs. “I just meant that eventually they will take over for their fathers, just as I will. Although Peter says he wants to cash out and enjoy life, Viktor is more driven. He’s already training to transition into a leadership role within his father’s conglomerate over the next few years.” He stops talking and looks around for a moment. “Sometimes I wish I could do that.”

  “Cash out and enjoy life?”

  “Yes, what do you think of my life so far?”

  “I’m not sure what I think of your life, but you, personally, surprise me.”

  “How so?”

  “Everything I’ve read had you in a different woman’s bed every night. I guess I just haven’t seen that.”

  “You can’t believe everything you read.”

  “Are you saying that you haven’t slept with a lot of women?”

  He purses his lips, suddenly realizing this conversation, for a man, is like walking through a minefield. “I haven’t slept with anyone since I met you.”

  I laugh. “Three whole days, huh?”

  “Spending time with me can be difficult. Earlier you took a photo with the hat maker.” He holds up his phone and shows me the photo on the woman’s social media account along with her post: A hat designed especially for this lovely girl at the request of HRH Queen Vallenta. Could we be looking at our future Princess?

  “This will kick-start things,” he explains. “Combined with the fact I was serious when I said I’d like you to escort me to all the events this week. For the race there is much media, and you will be photographed with me at every turn. And now that they know I introduced you to my parents, along with what’s about to happen next—”

  “What’s about to happen next?” I should know the answer to this. I should be constantly aware of my surroundings—but my gaze has been held by the Prince, his sincerity and honesty evident.

  He turns me around so that I can see his father, the King, walking straight toward us and flanked on his sides and rear by the Royal Guard. It's quite the processional. Once he arrives, he greets me with a warm embrace, like we’re old friends.

  “Any chance I could get a ride in that car?” he asks me.

  “I might even let you drive.”

  “Today, after all these people leave, maybe? Then you can join us for dinner.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The King greets his son and then moves to the other side of the fountain to be with his wife.

  People around us are now murmuring about me.

  This is crazy. I was taught to blend in. To live life under the radar. Being this exposed makes me feel like I’m caught in the crosshairs.

  This is a very odd mission. I was trained for six years to be the best and, now, I’ll probably never be able to fly under the radar again. Which seems counterproductive. If Ari’s right and this is our permanent cover, it doesn’t make sense. If we succeed in our mission and uncover the plot and kill the bad guys, then what? What’s next?

  Regardless of what Ari says about us being undercover in plain sight, I get a sinking sensation in my gut, knowing that succeeding at this mission may just make my career as a field agent very short.

  After the party dies down, the Prince leads me to his residence. “Thank you for agreeing to stay for dinner. It means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome. Am I dressed okay?”

  “You are. Dinner with just my parents will be a casual affair.”

  “That’s good. So, were you worried about having all these people here after what happened yesterday?”

  “Not in the least. I trust our police and army. We are a small country with very little petty crime. Our citizens are well off. Tourism brings a flood of money, and we cater to the wealthy of the world.”

  “But with wealth does there not come crime? Russian billionaires, arms dealers, drug kingpins, organized crime?”

  “Of course, but when they come to Montrovia, they come to celebrate their spoils, not to work. Maybe that is the difference. Our country demands refinement. We have the best of the best. Did you know that every hotel in Montrovia is five star?” he asks, leading me to his bedroom. I take off my shoes and hat, and we relax on the bed.

  “I think I read that somewhere.”

  He quickly changes the subject. “Would you let me drive your car before my father gets to?”

  “Hmm, not a chance,” I say, pulling him to my lips.

  We kiss. Sweetly. Softly. It’s nice.

  And intimate in an unusual way. I find myself enjoying it very much. It’s been awhile since I’ve done nothing but make-out with a guy. Usually kissing is just a prelude to sex. This is more like a prelude to something else.

  Especially when I fall asleep in his arms.

  We’re woken later in the evening and told that dinner with his parents has been cancelled. His father was exhausted from his appearance today and is resting.

  The Prince gets dressed for the evening’s festivities and then I let him drive. I had texted Ellis earlier and had him drop off the car.

  “Your car is a quite the tease,” he says, rolling slowly through town.

  “She prefers to go fast, for sure,” I agree, constantly looking in the side mirror to be sure the black car holding his bodyguards—of which there are four tonight—is still behind us. “What time does the fashion show start?”

  He checks his watch. “The party started about an hour ago, but the fashion show won’t start until later.”

  “I don’t want to miss Allie walking the runway. She’s really excited about it.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She’s popular in the United States, but hasn’t done much internationally.”

  “She is a very attractive woman. I’m sure she will do splendidly and have many admirers after tonight. My eyes, however, will only be on you.”

  “That will be awkward,” I tease, leading him into my suite after arriving at the villa and asking for a bottle of champagne to be sent up.

  The Prince is poking around my bathroom while I touch up my makeup. He holds up a round blue object. “Why do you have so many blue balls?”

  I stop brushing my hair to see what he’s talking about.

  “They’re bath bombs.”

  “Sounds quite dangerous. It’s interesting what you brought with you.”

  It is interesting what the Kates outfitted the villa with. I’m pretty sure one of them is obsessed with Lush products and imagined me in a foreign country without the ability to take a proper bath. She even included a note on her favorite combinations, thankfully.

  “Ho
nestly, I didn’t bring that much. I read that Montrovian shops have everything your heart could possibly desire. I just wasn’t sure if they had these, so I shopped in bulk.” I walk over to a large glass container and pull out a gold bar. “This gold one is perfect before a night out, because it gives your skin a soft shimmer. But my favorite thing is to mix a blue one with the gold. The combination looks like you’re bathing with a mermaid.”

  “I’d like to bathe with a mermaid.”

  “Since you’ve slept with all the other girls in the world, you need to find a new species?” I laugh. I’m funny sometimes.

  “I’d like to take one with you.”

  “My bath tub is built for one, and there’s a reason for that.”

  “Why?”

  “Baths are a solitary activity. A way to relax.”

  “Have you never taken a bath with a friend?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “We must remedy that immediately. The art of bathing can be very sensual.”

  “Let me guess, you were bathed by nannies even after you hit puberty.”

  He shrugs. “I was raised to—I’m comfortable naked.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’ve seen you in a bikini. You looked plenty comfortable.”

  “My lady bits were hidden.”

  “In Montrovia, topless sunbathing is encouraged.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Then tomorrow, we have a date. You will bring the bath bombs. I will supply the bathing garments.”

  The Amber Room is a glittering venue set up specifically for the Montrovian Grand Prix and is the setting for numerous parties over the race weekend. There is flowing champagne, exquisite cuisine, performances by iconic artists, amped up DJ sets, and tonight’s fashion show which benefits an international charity. I’ve met jet-setters, film stars, Formula One drivers, and royalty from numerous nations. Security is tight, and no one gets in unless they are on the list.