Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

I turn the sheet of paper over, where Ellis has added a handwritten note.

Six months ago, Ari was pulled from his elite unit and trained as a covert agent.

Which I find interesting. CIA training is typically a year-long program and for those who are at least twenty-six years old. That’s what made Blackwood so different. They were training younger agents.

I’m distracted from the brief when a text pops up on my phone.





AirForceTwo: You owe me a pizza . . . and a shirt.





I look down at my choice of pajamas and smile. But I don’t reply. If Daniel wants his shirt back, he’ll have to come to Montrovia and get it. I glance at the clock, knowing I need to work out and then get ready for the pool party Ari and I are having today.

Apparently, when you win big at the roulette table in a barely-there dress and have a smoking hot brother, everyone wants to be your friend.





X X X





“Looks like you win,” Ari says, elbowing me and nodding toward the entrance to the courtyard.

“Well, isn’t this a precarious situation? My hot-as-hell hookup hands me the Prince on a silver platter. I couldn’t have planned it better if I had planned it.” I elbow Ari back. “Oh wait, I did.”

I watch as Daniel enters the courtyard with the Prince of Montrovia. Next to the Prince is a man with a discreet earbud and alert eyes. He’s the same guard who was with the Prince in the clothing store. I’m sure the outside of the villa is surrounded by agents, but the fact that there is only one in here is the first flaw I see in his security protocol.

The Prince doesn’t approach me right away. He’s too busy being swarmed by people who either know him or want to.

Daniel, on the other hand, walks straight over to me. I’m dressed in a bikini, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m standing here naked.

“You crashing my party?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest like I’m mad at him for being here.

“You wanted me to come,” he fires back, then kisses both my cheeks. “And, now, here I am. With the Prince, who if I recall, you didn’t think I really knew.”

“So you only showed up to prove a point?”

“Actually, it just so happens he called and asked about you.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, he invited you to his party last night, and you didn’t show. Not many women will turn down an invitation from the Prince. You’ve perplexed the poor guy.” Daniel laughs. I can tell he finds my not going to the party humorous.

“That wasn’t my intention. I just happened to be busy.”

“Doing what? Or should I say, whom?”

“What do you mean?”

He flashes a photo of Wesley and me leaving the casino last night.

“That’s none of your business,” I say.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Dang. I was going to compare battle wounds with him.”

“What are you talking about?”

He points down to his calves, which are indeed boasting fresh red tracks down the outsides. “Your sexy heels almost ruined my photogenic-ness—my perfect specimen of a body. And the salt water in the pool stung the hell out them.” He smirks. “But at least the pain stopped the tears of being ditched in the morning.”

“I tried to wake you up.”

“You did not. The shirt isn’t that big of deal, but stealing a man’s breakfast pizza? That was just cold.” I get the dimple. “Oh, look. Lorenzo is working his way over here. You should cover up. That bikini is practically obscene.”

I punch him in the arm. “It is not.”

He whispers, “It’s sexy as hell. Maybe I just don’t want the Prince seeing you like that. Really, I don’t want anyone seeing you like that. Want to borrow my shirt?” He pulls his shirt off, revealing his muscular chest and tight abs. I want to run my fingers across them.

So I do.

“Tease,” he says, grabbing my hands and giving me another blink of a dimple. God, I love the way he smiles. I fight the urge to grab his face and start making out with him, but I’m on a mission and although I want the Prince to have to work for it a little, I don’t want to run him off when I’m this close.

Daniel turns toward the Prince. “Lorenzo, this is my friend, Huntley. We met a few days ago at an event in D.C., and when I mentioned I knew you, she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s not exactly right,” I contradict. “He was bragging about knowing you, so I rolled my eyes. Which he assumed was me not believing him and took it as a challenge, rather than accepting it for what it really was—me not being impressed.”

The Prince chuckles, which is good.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I say to the Prince. “Am I supposed to bow or something?”

“Only to my father, the King.”

Daniel laughs and points a finger at him. “He must like you, cuz he makes lots of girls kneel.”