Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t just here for the history?”


“Okay, so maybe I like the cars, too. What do you say? Wanna do it again?”

“Only if I can drive.” He starts laughing then he sobers. “Actually, I have a better idea.”

He instructs me to pull around the castle and out onto the lawn.

“Am I going to get in trouble for this?” I ask.

“Just the opposite,” he says. “My father loves cars. If he’s having a good day, he might be able to come out and see it.”

What he says touches my heart.

I use the hydraulics to lift the chassis so its profile is not as low and, hopefully, I’m not getting grass all up in the grill.

We enter the castle through a set of French doors that lead directly to the King’s suite. I know I’m with the Prince and that we checked in at the gates, but this seems way too easy. I could take out both the King and the Prince in less than a minute if I were playing for the other team.

The King looks very tired, but his face lights up when he sees his son. “Lorenzo!” he exclaims.

“Hello, Papa, how are you feeling today? I brought a friend for you to meet, and we have a surprise for you.”

“Are you getting married?” he asks.

The Prince blushes. “No, we have just met, but I am hoping she will accompany me to the events this week.”

“Including the Queen’s Ball?”

“Um, yes. Except I haven’t formally asked her yet.” He turns toward me and holds out his hand. I take it and allow him to lead me toward the bed. “I’d like you to meet Huntley Von Allister.”

“Von Allister? As in Ares Von Allister?”

“Yes, he was my father. Did you know him?”

“A long time ago, yes. When we were young men. How is he?”

“He passed away a few weeks ago.”

The King looks somber and reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was an interesting man. Smart as hell. And you are quite beautiful. I can see why my son fancies you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. But I think Lorenzo might fancy my car a bit more than me.”

“Your car?”

I smile. “He had me pull it up to your terrace so that you could come out and see it.”

“What kind of car is it?”

“A Koenigsegg. One of only two produced. Prior to this car, they only had access to a traditional black carbon fiber, but this one is white.”

“White?”

“Yes, a silvery, sparkling white that looks like millions of diamonds when the sunlight hits it.”

The King smiles and sits up. “This I must see.” He looks over at a nurse. “Can we unhook this thing?”

“Yes, of course,” the nurse says, undoing the IV.

“I haven’t had a proper stroll in a few days.”

“Huntley, why don’t you lead the way?” Lorenzo suggests, so I walk slowly toward the doors, suddenly realizing how few clothes I have on. I only threw a short cover-up over my bikini when I took the Prince to see my car.

I turn around and notice both the men are following me with grins on their faces. I’m not sure if it’s from seeing my backside or the excitement of the car, but whichever works. The King looks happy right now.

“Wow, now that’s a car,” the King says. “Tell me about it.”

“Koenigsegg aluminum V8, double overhead camshafts. Zero to 100 kilometers per hour in 2.9 seconds. Top speed of over 410. The fuel tanks are integrated for optimal weight distribution and safety, and it even has a detachable hardtop.”

The King moves around the car. “The color is stunning. Will this be in the auto show?”

I shake my head.

“You must remedy that, Lorenzo,” he says.

“Yes, I must.”

His father seems to tire quickly, so we escort him back inside and say goodbye.

“Thank you for making my day,” the King says, giving me a wink. “And try to keep him out of mischief.”

“I’m probably the wrong girl for that job,” I tease.

The Prince takes my hand and leads me into the castle’s hallway. It has a magnificent hand-painted, barreled ceiling set atop massive stained-glassed windows.

“This hallway alone is worth the price of admission.”

“This hallway isn’t on the tour. It’s part of my parents’ residence.” He pulls me into his arms. “Thank you for that. For being so kind to my father.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My one regret is that my father won’t get to see me marry. I have spent too much time behaving like a boy. My twenty-sixth birthday is coming up in a few years. If I don’t choose a wife by then, one will be chosen for me. My father worries my playboy ways mean I’m not mature enough to rule.”

“Doesn’t Parliament rule?”

“The answer to that is, sort of. The parliament oversees the day-to-day operations of the country, but the King rules and controls the military. I had to do a stint with our Royal Maritime Division.”

At least he’s not a wimp who can’t take care of himself.

He brings his lips to mine in a soft kiss and murmurs, “Would you like to be my princess?”

I back away, rolling my eyes. “Does that usually work?”