The Unwanted Spy

by Scarlett Haven

  I glance over and see West sit down. But he’s not smiling. In fact, he’s frowning at me.

  Great. I’m sure this is going to be a lovely flight.

  “We don’t like you,” West says, as the plane takes off.

  I look out the window, trying to figure out how I am supposed to respond to what he just told me. It’s like it’s my first day of kindergarten and a bully has just come up to tell me that my dress is ugly. Except we’re eighteen-years-old, or I am. He looks older. And we’re on a team together—permanently.

  The thing with The Royals is you don’t get to decide who your teammates are. If you marry a Royal, you can be on a couple team with them, but other than that, you’re stuck with whoever Michael Sinclair teams you with.

  “You don’t even know me.” I turn to face him and I am struck by how blue his eyes are. I’ve never seen such a beautiful color before. They almost look fake.

  “I only came to talk to you because I am the team leader. Do your job and we won’t have any problems. But you’d better not try to cause arguments with the guys,” he warns me.

  I run my fingers through my blonde hair, shaking my head. “I don’t plan on causing problems for anybody. I didn’t ask to be on your team. One of you guys clearly wanted me. Instead of harassing me, maybe you should ask your team which one of them voted for me.”

  He narrows his sapphire blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter who voted for you—it just matters that none of us want you here. The sooner you quit, the better.”

  Quit?

  He thinks I’m going to quit?

  West Newman has another think coming if he thinks he can bully me into quitting The Royals. This is what I have waited for my whole life. He can belittle me every single day, but I’m not going anywhere.

  “I’ve never backed down from bullies, and I’m not going to start now,” I tell him, leaning forward. “Is it because I’m a girl? Are you scared a girl is going to be better than you?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Trust me, there is nothing special about you.”

  His words sting, but I don’t let it show. I just shrug my shoulders. “Apparently, Michael Sinclair disagrees. In case you didn’t notice, you and I are on the same team.”

  West gets out of the chair before the buckle seatbelt light even goes off and he storms off to the back of the plane. I roll my eyes at his dramatics.

  He can’t stay mad at me forever. I don’t know what I did to him, but eventually we will become friends. It’s inevitable.

  That, or we will kill each other. I suppose that is possible, too.

  An image of me smothering him with a pillow in his sleep comes to mind and it brings a smile to my face.

  Before I can even enjoy the peace and quiet of West being gone, somebody else sits down beside me. I cross my fingers and hope it’s not the angry Russian one, but I smile when I see Kal sitting there instead. Out of the four guys, Kal and Ian seem to be the nicest of them. I’m hoping Kal and I can become friends, or at least have a more pleasant conversation than West and I just had.

  “Don’t pay attention to West, he’s always grumpy.” Kal offers me a smile, revealing his perfectly white teeth. I have no doubts that Kal is the charmer of the group, that much is easy to see by looking at him.

  “It’s pretty clear that nobody wants me on the team.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, looking out the window of the airplane. The only thing visible as far as the eye can see is clouds, and it makes me feel a little claustrophobic.

  “No,” he agrees. “We were all shocked when you walked into that room today. But it doesn’t matter what we want. It was Michael Sinclair’s decision, and we have to deal with it.”

  Deal with it? More like they have to deal with me, which is the problem.

  “Well, somebody obviously wanted me on the team.”

  “Clearly.” His voice lowers. “I just think you should know, we’re not going to be lenient on you because you’re a girl. You’re going to have to pull your own weight on the team.”

  I wait for him to say something else—anything else. But he doesn’t. And I’m just left there staring at him.

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” I say.

  He shakes his head.

  “Me being a girl has nothing to do with this. I fully expect to pull my own weight. It’s honestly a little insulting that you think I wouldn’t try my hardest.” I am dumbfounded as I look at him. “Do we not go to the same school? Do we not work for the same agency? Aren’t we on the same team? I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t worked my butt off for eighteen years.”

  “I suppose,” he muses. “I just wanted to make sure we are on the same page.”

  My hand is visibly shaking as I look at him.

  I can’t believe I thought Kal was going to be the charming one. He’s not. He’s so not.

  “Just don’t get any romantic notions. None of us are going to date you,” he says.

  I jerk my head around to look at him. “You think I want to date you, after you just insulted me? You’re lucky I don’t throw you out of this airplane without a parachute, you arrogant prick.”

  I only thought my mother could make me mad. She’s nothing compared to Kal. My hands are trembling and my stomach is in knots. I’ve never wanted to punch somebody so badly in my life. The only thing that is keeping me from it is the fact that I don’t want to get kicked off The Royals on the first day.

  That is probably what they want. They want me to quit or get kicked off the team. But doing that would only prove my parents right… it would prove my mother right.

  No, I will show him and I will show them all that Roxy Villareal is good enough. I’ll be the best agent The Royals have ever seen.

  “I was just saying, it’s okay if you’re attracted to me. Most girls are,” Kal babbles on. He flashes his dimples as he smirks at me.

  “You’re not my type.” My voice is shaky as I say the words, and I hope he doesn’t notice. If he does, he’ll probably think that I’m nervous. I’m not. I’m just really, really angry.

  He chuckles. “I’m everybody’s type. Unless you’re gay. Are you gay? Because that would definitely make things easier on the team.”

  “I’m not gay.” I rub two fingers against my temple, trying to will the headache away. “But if I lied and said I was, would you leave me alone?”

  Kal seemed so nice, too. I’m disappointed.

  Just as I’m about to ask him to leave, Alek comes up from the back of the plane with a familiar leather book in his hand.

  My journal.

  Kal laughs, getting up from the seat, and I realize exactly what he was—a distraction.

  I jump up, reaching for the journal, but Alek holds it above my head where I can’t reach it.

  “Give it back.” I am so mad that my blood feels like it’s boiling under my skin.

  “Ah, angry Roxy is cute,” Kal says.

  I glare at him and he backs up, holding his hands up.

  “Hey, it’s a compliment.”

  Ian stands from his seat, walking toward the back of the plane. “Guys, cut it out.” He grabs the journal from Alek and hands it to me.

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  But Ian ruins his kind gesture by opening his mouth. “Keep your crap hidden better. Everybody, shut up. I want to get some sleep before we get back home.”

  “You heard him.” West cross his arms over his chest, looking sternly between Kal, Alek, and me. “No more fighting.” His gaze lands on me. “And Ian is right. Hide your stuff better, Princess.”

  Princess?

  “Don’t call me Princess.”

  West laughs. “Nah, I rather like it, Princess.”

  Great.

  I have made four enemies today. What a perfect way to start my Monday.

  Stuck with the angry one.

  Twelve hours.

  That is how long our flight was.

  And exactly zero words were spoken to me since West decided his new nickname for me is ‘Pri
ncess.’

  Oh, plenty words were spoken about me.

  They talked about how prissy I am because I’m wearing bright pink nail polish. Like, excuse me for liking a little bit of color in my life. And my hair... well, apparently, they don’t like my blonde hair. It’s not so much the color they don’t like, it’s the fact that my hair is styled. They think I’m trying to look like some kind of social media model—I’m not. Honestly, I didn’t even do anything special to my hair. I just left it down, like I always do. Then they started talking about my clothes, and at that point I’d had enough, so I put on headphones and watched some reruns of my favorite show.

  It’s three in the afternoon when we land in Florida, but it’s nearly eight at night in Switzerland. I’m exhausted from spending so much time on the plane, and exhausted from fighting.

  I’m trying to not let the things the guys said get to me. This is my moment. It’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life—to be invited to The Royals. I shouldn’t let anything stop me from celebrating it. Except... they’re my teammates. I will be training with them... living with them. We will be going on missions together and basically spending all our time with one another. For the first time, I’m actually wondering if being a Royal is a good thing.

  Maybe I could call Michael Sinclair and tell him I want to just be an Elite agent. Elite agents are important too. But the thought makes me feel sick to my stomach. I’ve waited for this my whole life. I’m not going to let four angry men scare me away. I will show them I can be pretty and still kick their butts.

  When we get off the airplane, I am surprised to see that there are no black SUVs waiting. Instead, there are two Jeeps—one red and one white. When I see West get into the red one, I go to the white one, fully expecting to drive by myself. Before I can get into the driver’s seat, Alek slides in.

  “I’m driving,” Alek says, leaving no room for negotiation.

  I swear, if he says one word about girls not being able to drive, I will push him from a moving vehicle.

  Since all the other guys ride with West, I get in the passenger seat. Alek draws his brows together as he studies me. Maybe he’s contemplating telling me to get in the back. But if he thinks I’m getting in the back, he’s got another think coming. I’m staying right where I am.

  “Buckle up.” His Russian accent sounds thicker when he’s giving commands.

  I do buckle up, but not because Alek tells me to. I do it because I’d rather not get thrown from the Jeep if we get into a car accident. I have no idea if Alek is a good driver or not.

  Alek follows West onto the road and I sit there, loving the feeling of the sun on my skin and the wind through my hair. I like the Jeeps a lot more than I like the standard SUVs Spy School usually provides. I close my eyes to enjoy it for a moment, when a loud sound comes blaring out of the speakers, making me jump.

  I turn to glare at Alek as a Russian rock song plays, but he doesn’t seem at all concerned. He just sings along in a language that I don’t speak or understand.

  Fine.

  Two can play that game.

  I hook my phone up to the Bluetooth and start playing my favorite pop song. Alek quickly changes the station back, so I do the same. Back and forth for at least ten miles. Neither of us will back down, and I refuse to on principle alone. I can’t let these guys walk all over me. If I start now, that’s it. I’m going to be stuck listening to them like a good little soldier, which I am not. I am a Royal, which means that I’m a leader.

  My jaw drops open as we drive through a gate that has been opened for us.

  I don’t know what I was expecting when Michael Sinclair told me we’d be staying in Florida, but I didn’t expect condos on the beach.

  “It is impressive,” Alek says, turning down his music. “Spy School owns about three miles of this stretch of the beach. It allows us plenty of privacy while we train.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be right on the Atlantic Ocean.” I breathe in the fresh saltwater and... “What is that awful smell?” I don’t even know how to describe the smell. Maybe like... rotten food on a hot summer day? I put my fingers under my nose, trying to block the smell. It doesn’t help.

  “It’s the seaweed. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” He parks the Jeep right next to the rest of the guys.

  My shoulders sag at bit when I see them. I don’t like the guys—none of them. I mean, I guess Alek isn’t so bad. Other than us fighting over the music, he actually wasn’t mean to me at all. But I know the second we get around the rest of the guys, he’s going to start being hateful again.

  Before I can reach for my handle, the door opens up. I look to see West standing there. He doesn’t say anything. He just opens my door and then walks to the back of the Jeep to pull my luggage out.

  Huh.

  Is he actually going to be nice now?

  He pulls my suitcases behind him, and even carries my laptop bag. I race after him and the rest of the guys.

  At the front of the building, we meet up with a girl wearing a pant suit. Her black hair is slicked back into a tight bun, and she’s got on a pair of sunglasses. She pushes them to the top of her head when she spots us.

  She holds out her hand and West shakes it.

  “You must be West,” she muses. “I have your keys.”

  It’s then I notice the bag in her hand. She reaches in and pulls out five sets of keys, handing one to each of us. She also pulls out a piece of paper and scans it.

  “You’re in room 707.” She offers us a smile.

  With my key in hand, I follow the guys toward the elevators. I’m surprised they let me get on the same elevator as them, and Ian hits the button for the seventh floor.

  I hope whatever condo we are in is big enough that I don’t have to share a room. The idea of having to share my room with one or more of these guys makes my stomach muscles tense up. I’m not going to have a lot of privacy, I already know that. But it would be nice to have a private spot to escape from the rest of the guys.

  Alek walks in first, opening the door of the condo. The first thing I see when I walk in is a huge set of glass doors that lead out onto a balcony that overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. It’s the first place I walk to, and the guys follow behind me. I step out onto the balcony, and suck in a breath.

  It’s gorgeous here. Absolutely stunning. I can’t wait to watch the sunrise in the morning. I hope I can wake up in time to watch it because I bet it’s spectacular.

  I want to change into my bathing suit and go swimming, but first I suppose I should check out the rest of the condo.

  I hear somebody curse from inside as I walk back in, checking out the space. It’s smaller than I thought it would be.

  The front door opens into a small foyer. If you turn right, there is a kitchen. If you go straight, there is a small living room and dining room all in one room. There is a white leather sectional in the living room with a black coffee table and a white rug covering the tile floor. My favorite piece of furniture in the living room is this oversized chair that matches the couch. It looks so comfy. I think I will sit in that chair a lot. There is also a large TV stuffed in the corner by the glass doors that lead to the patio. By the kitchen there is a small bedroom with two twin size beds, a dresser, and a desk. Across a small hallway, there is a small bathroom with a toilet, a shower, and sink. It’s barely even big enough to walk inside. And in the hallway, a stackable washer and dryer are in the utility closet.

  My stomach is in knots as I walk around, toward the living room. I see there is only one more door, meaning there are only two bedrooms.

  The second bedroom is much larger than the first I saw. There are huge floor to ceiling windows that give a view of the ocean, and it’s beautiful. There are three twin beds in this room, and there is a large master bathroom. This bathroom has two sinks, a toilet with a private room, a shower, and a large tub. What I wouldn’t give to take a nice soak in that tub. But I get the feeling I won’t be staying in this room. I’ll be stuc
k in the small room with…

  I turn around as I hear footsteps. Four guys walk into the bathroom where I am standing, each of them wearing matching frowns. I think they’ve come to the same conclusion as I have—somebody has to share a room with me. And from the looks on their faces, none of them want to be the one to share a room with me.

  “We’ll draw straws. Whoever gets the short one is stuck with Princess, agreed?” West says.

  “Agreed,” the guys say in unison.

  “I have a name,” I say.

  But they’ve already turned and are walking out of the room. I follow behind them and into the kitchen. If they are insistent on drawing straws, I want to watch and see who my roommate will be.

  West grabs four straws and cuts one of them. He mixes them around in his hand and holds them out. One by one everybody draws a straw.

  Kal goes first.

  I admit, I’m relieved when he has a full straw. I know he was only being mean to me on the plane to distract me, but I still don’t want to be stuck rooming with him. He’s a complete jerk.

  Next, Alek goes. He gets a full straw. I’m a little disappointed. Not that I want to share a room with him, it’s just he was sort of nice to me in the car. Maybe he would’ve been a nice roommate. But then he literally shouts for joy when he sees that he’s not rooming with me, so maybe it’s for the best.

  Ian goes next. I kind of like Ian. He’s the only one who hasn’t been straight up rude to me. I mean, he hasn’t talked to me either, but he didn’t take part in the prank the guys played on me on the plane. Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad. But… he’s got a full straw.

  West groans as he looks at the only straw left in his hand.

  That means I’m stuck with the angry one.

  West is probably the last person I want to room with out of everybody. He’s the one who insists on calling me ‘Princess.’ I hate that stupid nickname, and I don’t like West.

  “Don’t leave me with him,” I beg the guys. “Anybody but him.”

  The guys laugh.

  “Sorry, Princess.” West pats me on the head. “You’re stuck with me. And trust me, I don’t like it any more than you do.”