Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

I go lock myself in a bathroom stall, taking a deep breath and cleansing myself of all negative thoughts.

A vision of my mother getting shot slips to the forefront of my mind.

It does that when I relax.

I had counseling at Blackwood to help me deal with the trauma of losing my parents, if such a thing is possible. My Uncle Sam told me that my parents got involved with some nasty people in their business dealings. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I answered simply: I wanted revenge. I wanted to hunt down the man and kill him myself. He confided in me that he had connections with the government and then offered me a place at Blackwood along with the promise of becoming skilled enough to take on my parents’ killer.

I close my eyes again and see the assassin’s eyes, knowing that my first mission will be a success.

Because it has to be.

For my country.

For my parents.

But, mostly, for myself.

I return to the casino floor and walk straight over to Ari, who is in a group chatting with Daniel and the Prince.

“Don’t wait up for me,” I say, patting him on the back as I walk by.

Then I make my way over to an incredibly hot Italian guy whose father designs the suits he wears. He was flirting with me at the roulette table earlier and invited me to go dancing with him. I allow him to lead me out of the casino and into a nearby club. Then I feign a headache and go home.

When I get there, I ask Ellis for intel on both of the Prince’s cousins as well as their boyfriends’ backgrounds. Then I scan my room for bugs and destroy them. I can’t deal with knowing someone is listening to me. They will probably be replaced soon, but for now, I don’t want them to hear the doubt in my head.





I’m in my bed, trying to sleep, when I hear a noise outside my terrace door. I grab the gun from my bedside table and proceed cautiously, flattening my back against the wall and then peeking out from behind the curtains.

Daniel is standing under the light.

I put the gun away and open the door. “What are you doing?”

“I was afraid you weren’t going to be here. You told Ari not to wait up. I figured you went home with that guy.”

“I was mad. My pathetic attempt to get back at you and the Prince for being jerks. I’m not going to sleep with some random guy.”

“Like the Prince?”

“I haven’t slept with the Prince.”

“What, he not as sexy as I am?” Daniel says, leaning against the door jamb and dropping down an overnight bag.

“He’s just—I don’t know. I thought we were sort of becoming friends. The way they practically accused me of bringing gunmen with me was upsetting.”

“You almost sound like you’re falling for him.”

I don’t answer that question. I ask him what I really want to know. “Daniel, why did you come to Montrovia?”

He cups my face in his hands. “I have a good excuse.”

“What is it?”

“I was in Paris, spending a few days with my mother before going to Switzerland to shoot a watch commercial with the Swiss bikini team. When the Prince called and asked about you, I figured what the hell. I’d see an old friend. Party for a few days in this beautiful city.”

“And the real reason?” I ask softly.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he replies, looking sincere. “But I have to leave first thing in the morning.”

“That means we have all night,” I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s left of it.”

“Then you better not waste a second.” I step out into the light.

He grins. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

The next thing I know, our lips collide, and he’s throwing me on the bed.

“So you wanted a slumber party?” I tease, kissing him.

He lies on top of me, holding his weight on his arms. “What I want is your hands all over me. Your body all over me. I want you under me. On top of me—”

“And I just want you in me.”

“I love how subtle you are,” he teases, stripping his shirt off me.





MISSION:DAY FIVE





I wake up to the sound of Daniel packing and getting dressed. He starts to put on a button-down, but grins at me and stops, pulling it back off his arm and sitting on the bed. He pulls the covers down, wraps me in his shirt, and kisses my forehead.

“My shirts look better on you than they do on me. I’ll miss you,” he says gently.

“Have fun hanging out with the bikini team.”

“That was the plan.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure,” he says softly as he kisses me. “I’ll be back for the race and the big ball. Don’t become a princess while I’m gone.”

I scoff at him.

“I don’t think you’d make a good princess, anyway,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t imagine he’s as good in bed as I am.”

“Just because I slept with you—thinking I’d never see you again—doesn’t mean that I sleep around. I don’t go home with a different man every night.”

“But you have quite a bit of previous experience?”

“None of your business.”