Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

I smile at Ari. For a guy who claims to not like shopping, he is playing his role well.

I wander around looking at ties. The store isn’t very busy. They say most people who come to experience Race Week arrive today or tomorrow, hitting the extravagant restaurants, casino, and clubs before the special events start later in the week. I’m holding a tie up to one of the suits Ari purchased when two men come through the back door. The first man is the Prince of Montrovia’s bodyguard, and the second is none other than his Royal Highness. I pretend not to notice, turning my back to them and studying the tie, then comparing it to another.

“I like the blue one the best,” a sultry voice with a sexy accent says.

I glance over my shoulder and gaze into the Prince’s dark eyes. “I was thinking the blue was a little boring.”

“Too traditional?” he asks.

“Yes, whereas this gold one is a little more exciting. Not to mention it matches one of his cars.”

“And what kind of car is that?”

“A Lamborghini Aventador.”

“And it’s gold?”

“Gold plated. Purchased from some spoiled prince somewhere.”

“Will it be in the car show?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, he’ll probably drive it there. It’s our first time here for the car show. I’m not really sure how it all works.” I tilt my head toward him and whisper, “Honestly, the car is a little flashy for my taste.”

The Prince smiles, leaning in close to me and whispering back, “What kind of cars do you like?”

“Fast ones.”

“I like fast things, too,” he says, giving me a once over. “Have you driven any fast ones?”

“I have a new car that just arrived in Montrovia, but I haven’t had the chance to get her out of the garage yet.”

“Let me guess. You would look good in something red. A Ferrari convertible, perhaps?”

“Hmmm. Afraid not. I prefer something a little more, um, challenging. Thanks for your input on the tie. I’ll be sure to tell my brother the Prince of Montrovia prefers traditional things.” He looks surprised. “What, did you think that if you came in the back door no one would recognize you? Have a good day, your Royal Highness.”

I take both ties over to the salesgirl and tell her to let Ari know that I’ll be next door trying on gowns—and I say it loudly enough for the Prince to overhear.





I’m in front of the mirror checking out the third gown I’ve tried on—a gorgeous gilded Atelier Versace—when the Prince strolls over and says, “That looks lovely on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be at the casino tonight?”

“We’re told it’s the place to be.”

He holds out two tickets. “I’m having a private party. You should wear that dress. And please, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lorenzo Vallenta.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, but when I place my hand in his, he turns it over and kisses it. “And what is your name?”

“I’m Huntley Von Allister.”

“Huntley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thanks.”

The Prince narrows his eyes at me. “Will you be there?”

“At your party?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe. But I probably won’t be wearing this dress.”

“What will you be wearing?” he asks, truly looking confused. I’m pretty sure no woman has ever RSVP’d maybe to a personal invite from him.

“What I’m wearing is a surprise,” I reply, purposefully playing coy.





Back at home, I show Ari the tickets. He’s thrilled and, of course, wants to go.

“I don’t think that should be our game plan. The Prince is used to women fawning over him. A man like him needs a challenge to stay interested. He must believe I’m not interested.”

“Women,” Ari mutters, but nods his head in agreement. “So I thought we’d do dinner and then go to the casino. Sound good?”

“Yes. We need to make friends.”

“Ellis booked us a table at—and I quote—the first hotel restaurant ever to be awarded three Michelin Stars, which it has never since lost. The ambiance is supposed to be incredible,” he says, flashing me a pic of the restaurant on his phone.

“Hmm,” I say. “What do you think? It doesn’t look like a place to meet people.”

“You’re right. It looks really stuffy.” He does a quick internet search and comes up with a better option. “How about this place, instead? It says that its dining experience is enhanced due to an open kitchen and an elaborate counter around which we can dine.”

“I think it would be easier to meet people there. It looks fun.”

He reads more. “It also has an incredible view of the harbor, and it has one Michelin Star after only being open for three years. So, the food must be good. Alright. I’ll have Ellis get us in.”

Ellis walks into the room, bringing us each a flute of champagne.