Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

Both the Prince’s and my eyes widen as the Admiral and Juan leave the room.

The Prince gives my hand a squeeze. “It seems I owe you my life again. If you keep this up, I’m going to have to hire you as a bodyguard.”

I press my free hand against his chest. “You do have a nice body, from what I’ve heard.”

He leans in and gives me a steamy kiss, but we are interrupted by his mother, who bursts through the door.

“Lorenzo, darling, I just heard.” She sees us kissing. “Oh, excuse me.”

“It’s okay, mother,” he says, pulling his lips away from mine. “I was just thanking Huntley for saving me yet again.”

“I’ve made a decision. I’m cancelling the Queen’s Ball.”

“You can’t. We cannot allow our nation’s activities to be dictated by fear.”

“I know you are right, but there have been two attempts on your life in as many days. I don’t want you attending any more parties. We’ll say you are ill.”

“I appreciate your concern, Mother, but I’ll be fine.” He gives her a hug.

“What about the charity race tomorrow?” she asks.

“I must,” Lorenzo firmly states.

“You have nearly been gunned down and poisoned,” she argues.

“This is my country. If I can’t feel safe and free to go about my business, neither will our countrymen. They will lose faith in the monarchy.”

“So you’d rather they lose the future of their country? Lose you?”

“This country is bigger than one man.”

Although technically I agree with Lorenzo, I have to side with his mom on this one. “Um,” I interrupt. “I know nothing about security stuff, but I can think of a million ways a charity race could go wrong.”

“Like what?” He smiles, patronizing me.

“Another driver crashing into you, someone tampering with your car, tacks on the track to blow out your tires resulting in a fiery crash. The list could go on and on.”

He hasn’t rolled his eyes yet, but I’m getting the feeling neither his mother nor I are going to be able to talk any sense into him. And since I can’t go in the car with him, I need to make sure he doesn’t compete, so I go with the only option I have left and pull out the emotional card.

He’s still holding my hand, so I give it a squeeze then turn to face him. “I don’t want your mother, your country, or your father to watch you die.”

“My father?”

“A television is being brought in,” his mother confirms. It was a wild guess on my part, but I may have gotten lucky. “He wants to watch all the live footage. If he watched you die, it would kill him.”

“He’s already close to death,” Lorenzo states sadly.

“Fine,” I sputter out. “I don’t want to watch you die.”

He sighs, slides his arm around my waist, and gazes into my eyes. I take his face in my hands and give him a single kiss.

A kiss with more feeling than any kiss I’ve given him before. I keep my lips pressed against his for a long time. Our eyes are closed and our bodies still. It’s intimate—all we can hear is the sound of our own hearts beating. Our kiss reminds me of when I’m in yoga class searching for inner peace. For me, it’s illusive, because whenever I relax, I see my mother’s face.

But in this moment, I know what it feels like—a strength and peace within yourself.

I open my eyes and whisper, “I care for you deeply, Lorenzo.” I’m not pretending or manipulating. I truly mean every word.

Surprise appears in his eyes. I’m sure a lot of women have expressed their feelings for him, but he seems surprised that I have. So is his mother, who I almost forgot was in the room.

And, honestly, so am I.





After he agrees not to participate in the charity race, I feign exhaustion and am driven home. He gives me a lengthy kiss when he walks me to my door. I rake my hands through the curls at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss and enjoying the feel of his hands roaming across my backside.

By the time I shut the door, it’s nearly three in the morning.

I strip down, put on my robe, and go sit on the terrace for a moment while trying to assimilate today’s events. From what I’ve learned about the Terra Project to the attempts on the Prince’s life. The fact that, so far, I’ve managed to keep him alive. But at this rate, if we don’t figure out quickly who is behind the attempts, one will eventually succeed.

And I don’t want that.

For a lot of reasons.

A glint in the corner of the terrace catches my eye. I investigate, finding an old-fashioned cellular flip phone. I discover a note hidden inside that simply says, Call Me.

I take the phone into my closet and grab one of the makeup wipes I was given by the Kates that tests for bomb residue, and glide it over the phone, just in case, then take it down to the basement lab and analyze it.

Once I determine it’s clean, I go back on my terrace and call the only stored number.

“Huntley?” a voice I immediately recognize as Terrance’s says.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want your honest answer.”