Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

“Should I know that name?”


I crinkle my brow. “I don’t know if that’s his real name or not, but I do know that he’s one of the most revered British intelligence agents in, like, all of history. His codename is Intrepid.”

“Never heard of him. Why would he want to come to our party? Why would he follow you?”

“I’m not sure. Supposedly, he retired years ago. I’m torn between he’s become a paid assassin and wants to kill the Prince, or he’s working for his government and wants to save him.”

“Interesting. You don’t think he knows that we work for the government, do you?”

“He did mention he never knew Ares had children. He seemed skeptical. But then he was sort of flirting with me. He said he knows Wesley.”

“While you go to the harbor, I’ll have Housekeeping do some digging. I think they are busy planning our party, but this is important.”

“Let me know what you find out. Send me a heart if he’s a good guy and a broken heart if he’s bad. And pray for a heart, because I will be crushed if I have to kill him.”

Ari chuckles but then looks at me seriously. “Do you think you are good enough to kill a legend?”

“Retired legend,” I clarify. “And the answer to that question is absolutely.” I hear a car rumble into the drive. “Lorenzo is here. Shit.”

Ari speaks to his phone, asking it what to wear on a yacht in Montrovia. Numerous example photos pop up. “Designer heels and sunglasses with a teeny bikini.” He scrolls through more photos while I pull on a pair of white shorts and a navy sweater that looks nautical.

“Perfect,” Ari says.

“What are you doing today?”

He doesn’t reply, so I grab my bag and go to greet Lorenzo.

Ari follows me and says to him, “Huntley said you’ll be on your yacht this afternoon. Does that mean the two of you aren’t going to your cousins’ spur of the moment beach party?”

Lorenzo lowers his voice. “They wanted to have it on my boat and are a little miffed that I said no.”

“Why did you say no?” I ask.

“Because I wanted to spend time alone with you.”

I smile and so does Ari. This is good for our mission.





Lorenzo drives us to the harbor, a blacked-out SUV following us closely. The race traffic is bad as many streets are closed, but Lorenzo pulls through a parking garage and emerges at the marina. He parks, and we are escorted to his boat.

After taking off my shoes, I get a tour of his amazing yacht. It sports a navy steel hull with a white superstructure on top and is curvy like a racecar. The interior is made up of rich woods accented in stainless steel with lots of leather upholstery. It’s a combination of sleek, rich, contemporary warmth. It has six staterooms for guests as well as a massive owner’s suite and room for a large crew. It also features five levels of sundecks, a pool, nightclub, and numerous entertaining salons.

“It’s one of the prettiest boats in the harbor,” I tell him as we go to the top deck to view the charity races.

“Thank you. My father would love to hear you say that.”

“Why’s that?”

“He worked with Viktor’s father’s yacht company for the last two years having it built for my twenty-fourth birthday.”

“When was that?”

“Just three weeks ago. You are my first guest.”

“But I’ve seen pictures of you on yachts surrounded by women. There was one in the paper just the other day.”

“Not on this boat. You are the first woman, besides my mother, to step foot on it.”

“Well, I’m honored then.”

“I thought we could have lunch up here and then enjoy the sun on the pool deck.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He gives me a kiss. “So, how is my beautiful Huntley today?”

“It seems she’s on the cover of the newspaper.”

“Yes, our publicist did mention that there are a lot of photos of us. Are you okay with that?”

I laugh. “Um, the question should be are you okay with that? I’m a nobody. No one cares who I’m with.”

“I do,” he says, kissing me again. “And I prefer you be photographed with me as opposed to another man. Did you remember to send the bombs to the castle?”

“I did—not that you gave me much time—and you need to stop calling them that. I’ll end up getting arrested.”

“You may get arrested if anyone sees you in this,” he teases, pulling a teeny white thong that looks too small for a Barbie doll out of his duffle bag. Good thing the Kates insisted on the Brazilian cut down there. “This is what you will be wearing.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“It’s for bath time, not for yacht time.”

“Well, thank goodness.”

I look around at all the yachts in the harbor, each one packed to the gills with spectators. “Did you notice this is the only yacht not full of people watching the race?”

“I hadn’t noticed. I only have eyes for you.”

I laugh. “Really?”