by W. J. May
Puffing out a hot breath, she forced herself to focus. As of this moment, she was strapped for time. The empty suitcase on her bed bore guilty witness to her procrastination. The second hand of the clock echoed in her ears.
She was still fretting over exactly what to bring when there was a knock on the door.
Her head whipped up in alarm. There was still twenty more minutes! Was Devon that early? Was she that screwed?!
“Just a…” she raced around, pulling a bathrobe over her pajamas, “just a minute!”
There was a metallic grinding in the lock, and the front door pushed open of its own accord. Soft footsteps padded across the kitchen to her bedroom as she blurred back and forth between her empty bag and her closet, tossing random armfuls of stuff inside.
“Nice packing.”
She skidded to a halt and chuckled with relief. Julian, not Devon.
He was leaning up against her doorframe, eyeing her pathetic attempts with amusement. “Do you really think you’re going to need a parka over at the Savoy? They must have changed the dress code since I left…”
“Wait! You’ve been there?!” She whirled around with wide eyes and gestured helplessly to her suitcase. “Jules, you’ve got to help me! I’m completely out of my element here!”
“First tell me why you even have a parka.”
She tossed a pillow at his head. “I’m serious! I know it’s this super luxurious hotel, but it’s not like we’re actually going to be ‘hotel-ing.’ We’re there for reconnaissance.”
Julian plopped down onto the bed with a grin. “So what’s the problem?”
“What the heck am I supposed to wear? Do I bring a jumpsuit or a ball gown?”
“Well,” he began importantly, stretching out on the mattress and picking up one of her magazines, “I always bring both. Although I often find that my jumpsuit clashes with my gown.”
“You are just so helpful,” she murmured, removing the parka and turning back to her closet with a hopeless sigh. “Remind me to be just as helpful the next time you have a problem…”
He ignored her and cocked his head to the side, frowning slightly at the lethal-looking corsets on some of the models. “You found these under Molly’s bed?” he asked with a smile.
Rae nodded, looking tired. “That’s right. The way some people stash chocolates and porn under the mattress, our little Molly stashes Vogue.”
He snorted. “Well, that was predictable.”
“Not as predictable as you not helping me with my imminent deadline.”
“Just pack clothes, Rae. Nice clothes,” he said, completely disinterested. This time, he turned the magazine halfway upside-down, struggling to understand the mechanics of Italian lacing. “I don’t get it…how are you supposed to breathe?”
Rae glanced over as she conjured a pair of stilettos into her bag. “You’re not. Fashion is pain, my friend.”
He picked up one of the shoes with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll say. I think I could actually kill someone with this, you know.”
She shot him a hard look. “Don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind…”
He chuckled and tossed it back on the bed. “I said nice clothes, didn’t I? What else do you want from me?”
She sighed and tossed some black leather tights on top of the stilettos. “Sorry. I’m just…I have a feeling this is not going to be one of my favorite missions.”
His face softened sympathetically. “Yeah, I saw. Sorry I couldn’t give you guys a head’s up. I saw it happening just a minute before it actually did. Otherwise I would have texted.”
“That’s okay. No one could have stopped it one way or another.”
He shook his head with a small frown. “I just don’t get it. After everything that’s happened, why would Mallins want to pair you and Devon together? Or him and me? Or even you and me? We’re probably the four most controversial agents the PC has had since your mom and Jennifer. Why wouldn’t they want to space us out with older, more reliable people?”
Rae paused in surprise, her hands frozen around a hanger. She had never thought about it like that, but it was absolutely true. Aside from the controversy with her parents, the Council had never before experienced such blatant opposition from their own agents.
“Maybe it’s just damage-control,” she guessed. “They want to contain the spread of our impertinence. It’s like a virus.”
Julian cocked an eyebrow. “A virus?”
Rae grinned. “Maybe they’re worried we’ll unionize.”
They laughed for a while, and eventually lapsed back into silence. Julian stretched out and read the magazine, Rae conjuring random pieces of clothes and tossing them into her bag.
After a couple minutes, her eyes flashed up to him tentatively. This was a subject she didn’t want to breach, especially with Julian, but something he had said earlier kept looping back in her mind.
“Jules?” she asked quietly.
He glanced her way. “Yeah?”
“What did you mean…he’s not happy.”
Their eyes met for a long moment.
Then Julian looked down with a sigh. “Of course he’s not happy, Rae. He’s in love with you. And you’re not together. How the hell could he be happy?”
Her eyes dropped to her half-packed bag. “I thought I should…I thought it was best that I give him some space. I know he needs it…you should have seen him at the meeting today. And then of course, it would keep him out of harm’s way while you and I look into my dad’s letter.”
Julian gazed at her intently, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
For whatever reason, her eyes began to water and she looked quickly away, masking it under the guise of conjuring herself a black camisole. “Well, anyways…I guess it’s for the best, so I should just put it out of my head—”
Julian’s dark eyes softened with pity. “Rae?”
A few tears spilled over, and she wiped them quickly off her cheeks. “Yeah?” She turned to him with a forced a smile—a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone.
He opened his mouth to say something, and knowing Julian it would have been something good. But much to her surprise, he didn’t say a word. He simply stared at her, peering gently into her eyes. Then he glanced down at the magazine in his lap, and his face lit up with a secret smile. “Wear that one.”
Rae glanced down in surprise at the dress he was pointing at. “That one?”
His eyes twinkled.
“That one.”
* *
By the time four o’clock rolled around, Rae was dressed, packed, and ready for anything the night decided to throw at her. She stood fidgeting out on the curb, nervously smoothing down her long trench coat as her other hand fiddled with the handle on her bag. Ignoring Julian’s advice, she’d decided to wait down by the road instead of making Devon come up to the apartment. They’d already run into each other twice by accident today; both times were like pulling teeth. Best to keep things as professional as possible. At least as far as the mission was concerned.
Her hand tightened around the leather strap as a sports car came flying from around the corner and screeched to a stop in front of the curb. Rae stifled a smile. Devon may act with the wisdom and responsibility of one far beyond his years, been when it came to cars he was just like every other nineteen-year-old guy.
He hopped out onto the sidewalk, grinning from ear to ear from the rush of speed and adrenaline. He was so distracted he almost ran into her standing in front of the door. “Oh crap! Sorry! I didn’t see you.” He caught himself quickly, lowering his hands as they reached out automatically to steady her. “Why are you down here?”
When he said it out loud, it suddenly seemed rather stupid.
“Oh, you know,” she diverted, picking up her bag and carrying it over to the car, “just trying to get a move on things. We don’t want to be late or—”
“I’ll get that.” His fingers slipped through hers and eased the suitcase out of her hand.
When she looked up, he gave her a quirky smile. “We are dating, after all.”
She froze in place, eyebrows disappearing into her hair. “Uh…excuse me?”
He realized his mistake at once, and turned a thousand shades of red as he hurried to fix it. “For the mission, I mean. We’re dating for the mission. That’s our cover.” He set her suitcase in the backseat next to his, blushing all the while, his adorable dimple showing as he avoided her gaze. “It’s how we’re supposed to get close enough to White to put a bug on him. There’s some big charity event this evening at the hotel. We’ll tag him there, and then duck out early to break into his office.”
Rae nodded swiftly, trying to act nonchalant. “Sounds good. With any luck, we won’t even have to stay overnight. We can just leave the second we’re done in his office.”
Why…the hell did I just say that?
The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She hadn’t intended them to come out so harsh. She was just having trouble finding her footing here. Fake relationships were hard enough—and then to attempt one with your brand new ex? Was there a rule book here or something? Maybe she could read it, and then use it to hit herself over the head…
Devon flashed her a quick look and she hurried to correct herself.
“I just meant it’s a good plan. We should be in and out with no trouble.”
“Yeah, sure.” He pulled open her door, gesturing her inside. “No trouble.”
“Dev, I really didn’t mean anything by—”
“Listen, Rae… hang on.” He shut the door before she could slide inside, and turned around to face her. “We need to figure this out. Right here, right now. This isn’t us going back and forth at your apartment tonight; it’s a Privy Council-sanctioned mission.” His fingers raked nervously through his hair. “And not to put too fine a point on it, but after what we’ve put the Council through these last couple of months, we need to hit a home run here.”
Rae paused on what we’ve put the Council through for a moment, but let it go. He was right. This wasn’t the time for bickering or unsteady ground. They needed to be certain. As had become their surreal daily reality, lives were at stake. “You’re absolutely right,” she said quietly. “So what do we do?”
Their eyes met for a moment, and it looked like he was thinking things over hard. Then he straightened up suddenly, and cleared his throat. “You forget about your past with me, and I forget about my past with you. For twenty-four hours, we have a clean slate. No baggage. No tension. No history. We’re just two agents posing as a couple on a mission. We keep things professional.”
It sounded fine in theory. But in practice…? They’d have to wait and see.
But however unrealistic his plan might be, Rae latched onto it like a life-raft. In a lot of ways it was exactly what she needed to hear. No strings. No awkward half-sentences. No constantly putting her foot in her mouth and then blushing to high heaven.
Their relationship might be as convoluted and warped as they came, but if he wanted her to treat him like an agent? That was something she knew how to do.
“Keep things professional,” she repeated with a slightly relieved smile. “I can do that.” Without another thought she slipped off her long trench coat and climbed into the car, beating him to close the door as she settled her things around her. The clock on the dash read just a little after four. They would make it to the hotel and be ready for the event tonight with time to spare. She was just giving her lip gloss a cursory check in the mirror when she realized that Devon was still standing right outside the window where she’d left him—staring at her through the glass. A faint chill ran up her arms as she remembered she was wearing only a simple tube top with some dark fitted jeans. It hadn’t seemed to matter much under the coat.
He blinked quickly and averted his gaze, circling around behind the car to get to the driver’s seat. But as he crossed behind the rear window she could have sworn she saw a hint of a grin.
“You might be able to keep things professional,” he breathed to himself—so soft that even with his tatù, it was almost impossible to hear. “Now I hope to hell I can. Damn!”
* *
The Savoy was everything Rae had imagined and much more. From the second they pulled up and a valet took their keys, to the moment they were escorted to their suite on the top floor, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that somewhere driving along to road to get here she must have transformed into royalty.
This must be how Sarah feels all the time, she thought as a second attendant reached for her bag with a pair of white velvet gloves. She had decided to put her trench coat back on; tube tops and the Savoy didn’t really fit in the same sentence, but she surrendered her other things with a gracious smile. I could get used to it. Maybe Devon and I could go under cover later at the palace…?
“Yo—Grace Kelly. You still with me?”
Rae looked up in surprise to see that the attendants had left, and she and Devon were alone in the room.
He was standing beside their pile of luggage, looking at her with an amused grin. “You want to go back to the palace again, don’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes and shot him a superior scowl. “Using your weird talent of guessing my thoughts isn’t exactly keeping things professional. A normal agent wouldn’t know me that well.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” he countered, sauntering towards her across the gilded floor. “An agent has to know their partner like the back of their own hand. You wouldn’t believe half the stuff Julian and I have learned about each other over the years.”
They both paused and she cocked her head questioningly to the side.
“Okay,” Devon flushed self-consciously, “that came out weirder than I meant.”
Rae giggled and rotated in a slow circle to take in the general splendor. The ceilings were high and lined with crown molding, the carpets were that plush, sink-your-toes-into-it decadence that her aunt always wanted but they never could afford, and all the furniture was designer. In fact, the one thing that kept running through her mind as she looked around was that this place was exactly the kind of design aesthetic that Molly had been aiming for but that Rae kept ruining with her eclectic taste and Moroccan bath mats.
Devon cleared his throat loudly behind her. “In the effort of further keeping things professional, I will refrain from mentioning that you’re probably thinking about how much Molly would love this right now.”
Rae bit her lip and turned back to him with a smile. “Yeah, that would probably be best.”
“I also won’t say that this reminds me, really strongly, of Heath Hall.”
Rae’s heart skipped a beat. Heath Hall was the place where she and Devon had gotten back together. The place where he had professed his love; first to her and then to the President of the Privy Council, choosing their relationship over his career once and for all. It was also the first place that they…well, it was a lot of firsts.
“Yeah,” her voice got quieter and she dropped her eyes, “you probably shouldn’t say that either.”
Looking a little guilty for breaking his own rules, he cleared his throat again and gestured to the different doorways leading off from the living room. “Kitchen is that way. Bathroom is there. And the bedroom is just through those doors.”
One bedroom?
Rae’s eyes flickered to him automatically and he was quick to explain.
“Our cover identities are Blaine and Meg Rosswell. Newlyweds from Sussex. One bedroom made sense if anyone was to check.”
She couldn’t help but frown. “Will anyone check? Is anyone on the lookout for us tonight?”
“No,” he shook his head, “at least, no one that we know of. But we can never be too careful. Especially after…recent events.” A shadow passed over his face and before he could stop himself he added, “I want to keep you safe.”
They shared a long look, before Rae finally provided him a graceful exit. “For the mission?”
His face
broke into a grateful grin and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, for the mission.”
“Well, on behalf of the Privy Council, I thank you for your consideration.” She couldn’t help but grin herself as she pointed to one of the doors. “Bathroom?” He nodded. “Cool. I’m going to take a shower before the thing tonight.”
He nodded again, but called out to her before she disappeared. “Rae, just…remember it starts at six o’clock. That’s just a little over an hour from now.”
She paused in the doorframe and turned around suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His face was a perfect mask of innocence. “Nothing.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“I’m just reminding you, is all.”
She folded her arms across her chest with a wry smile. “And would you remind Julian, if he was your partner right now instead of me?”
Devon looked like he’d backed himself into a corner, but he handled it as gracefully as he could. “It’s just…you tend to take longer showers and—”
“I knew it!” She pointed a finger at his chest in triumph. “You just can’t let it go!”
He held out for just a second more before the jig was up. A wide smile spread across his face and he chuckled again at her defiance. “…Longest showers of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“I have a lot of hair!” she said defensively, tossing her long curls out behind her. “It’s quite a bit of maintenance, I’ll have you know!”
“I know exactly how much hair you have.” He glanced up with a grin. “Your showers still last roughly seven years.”
She threw up her hands, simultaneously conjuring a bottle of her favorite conditioner as she headed to the door. “You’re so prone to over-exaggeration.”
“I once started and finished watching Scarface in the time it took you to take a shower.”
“Well,” she sniffed, “I think that has a lot more to do with your bad taste in movies than it does with me relaxing in the shower.”
He snorted. “Right.”
She had halfway closed the door, when she turned around with a sudden grin. “You know…this conversation isn’t that professional either.”
