Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

I laugh. “Three whole days, huh?”


“Spending time with me can be difficult. Earlier you took a photo with the hat maker.” He holds up his phone and shows me the photo on the woman’s social media along with her post: A hat designed especially for this lovely girl at the request of HRH Queen Vallenta. Could we be looking at our future Princess?

“This will kick-start things,” he explains. “Combined with the fact I was serious when I said I’d like you to escort me to all the events this week. For the race there is much media, and you will be photographed with me at every turn. And now that they know I introduced you to my parents, along with what’s about to happen next—”

“What’s about to happen next?” I should know the answer to this. I should be constantly aware of my surroundings—but my gaze has been held by the Prince, his sincerity and honesty evident.

He turns me around so that I can see his father, the King, walking straight toward us and flanked on his sides and rear by the Royal Guard. It's quite the processional. Once he arrives, he greets me with a warm embrace, like we’re old friends.

“Any chance I could get a ride in that car?” he asks me.

“I might even let you drive.”

“Today, after all these people leave, maybe? Then you can join us for dinner.”

“I’d like that.”

The King greets his son and then moves to the other side of the fountain to be with his wife.

People around us are now murmuring about me.

This is crazy. I was taught to blend in. To live life under the radar. Being this exposed makes me feel like I’m caught in the crosshairs.

This is a very odd mission. I was trained for eight years to be the best and, now, I’ll probably never be able to fly under the radar again. Which seems counterproductive. If Ari’s right and this is our permanent cover, it doesn’t make sense. If we succeed in our mission and uncover the plot and kill the bad guys, then what? What’s next?

Regardless of what Ari says about us being undercover in plain sight, I get a sinking sensation in my gut, knowing that succeeding at this mission may just make my career as a field agent very short.





After the party dies down, the Prince leads me to his residence. “Thank you for agreeing to stay for dinner. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome. Am I dressed okay?”

“You are. Dinner with just my parents will be a casual affair.”

“That’s good. So, were you worried about having all these people here after what happened yesterday?”

“Not in the least. I trust our police and army. We are a small country with very little petty crime. Our citizens are wealthy and happy. Tourism brings a flood of money, and we cater to the wealthy of the world.”

“But with wealth does there not come crime? Russian billionaires, arms dealers, drug kingpins, organized crime?”

“Of course, but when they come to Montrovia, they come to celebrate their spoils, not to work. Maybe that is the difference. Our country demands refinement. We have the best of the best. Did you know that every hotel in Montrovia is five star?” he asks, leading me to his bedroom. I take off my shoes and hat, and we relax on the bed.

“I think I read that somewhere.”

He quickly changes the subject. “Any chance you might let me drive your car before my father gets to?”

“Hmm, not a chance,” I say, pulling him to my lips.

We kiss. Sweetly. Softly. It’s nice.

And intimate in an unusual way. I find myself enjoying it very much. It’s been awhile since I’ve done nothing but make-out with a guy. Usually kissing is just a prelude to sex. This is more like a prelude to something else.

Especially when I fall asleep in his arms.





We’re woken later in the evening and told that dinner with his parents has been cancelled. His father was exhausted from his appearance today and is resting.

The Prince gets dressed for the evening’s festivities and then I let him drive. I had texted Ellis earlier and had him drop off the car.

“Your car is a quite the tease,” he says, rolling slowly through town.

“She prefers to go fast, for sure,” I agree, constantly looking in the side mirror to be sure the black car holding his bodyguards—of which there are four tonight—is still behind us. “What time does the fashion show start?”

He checks his watch. “The party started about an hour ago, but the fashion show won’t start until later.”

“I don’t want to miss Allie walking the runway. She’s really excited about it.”

“Why is that?”

“She’s popular in the United States, but hasn’t done much internationally.”

“She is a very attractive woman. I’m sure she will do splendidly and have many admirers after tonight. My eyes, however, will only be on you.”

“That will be awkward,” I tease, leading him into my suite after arriving at the villa and asking for a bottle of champagne to be sent up.