Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

“That sounds interesting,” Allie says, even though she looks bored to tears.

“It is,” he agrees and continues talking. I mimic Allie’s look of boredom, but I’m not at all. I hadn’t realized that his father was involved in something like this. “We could build pod cities like these all over the world. Turning it into a global environmental initiative.”

“It sounds like the Terra Project that Clarice was talking about the other night,” I mention casually.

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously, that’s where Clarice and I would disagree. This is a commercial project for us. We don’t agree with the whole bartering thing. We’re in this to make money. To sell our cities to the governments of the world.”

“I like the idea of my country leaving a smaller environmental footprint, but I can’t imagine my capital city any way other than how it is now,” Lorenzo states, causing me to shake my head in agreement.

“Montrovia is beautiful,” I add.

“Honestly,” Peter says, “the whole thing seems stupid to me, too. We already have amazing cities in the world. It’s not like anyone is going to tear them down and rebuild. But my dad said I have to go if I want a cushy job, so it is what it is. I heard they don’t allow alcohol in the country he’s sending me to, so I’m not planning to stay long. If you ask me, that’s why they are so jumpy over there.”

“Because some religions don’t believe in the consumption of alcohol?” I ask incredulously. Peter is a stupid, pompous ass who hasn’t got a clue about the real world. Although, I doubt he would care to know.

“Lizzie, I didn’t know you would be here today,” the Prince says, suddenly looking up and looking nervous. I’m wondering if she’s some stalker girl he’s been sleeping with when he turns to me. “Huntley, I’d like to introduce you to Lady Elizabeth Palomar. She and I are old friends.”

“I’ve known him since we were mere babes,” Elizabeth says, shaking my hand. “I heard he was here. I hope it’s okay that I came to your party.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say sincerely, but I’m wondering why she is here and if she’s a threat. “I’m glad you could join us.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Did you come back in town just for the race?” the Prince asks her.

“Of course. If I missed the Queen’s Ball, my mother would probably disown me.”

“Where are you living?” Allie asks.

“She’s studying art in Paris,” the Prince answers for her.

Lizzy smiles at him in a way that makes me wonder about their past. There’s an undercurrent of flirtation going on, and I’m not sure I like it, or her.





X X X





The harbor, the grandstands, the hills, and the streets of Montrovia are full of people cheering for the race.

We’re on the Prince’s boat, and that alone is a logistical nightmare for his security. There are men on wave runners guarding the yacht’s perimeter. There are men controlling access to the boat from the docks, and while they are not allowing anyone on the boat who wasn’t invited, there are boats full of partiers anchored on both sides of us. Race-goers are screened for weapons before they enter the area, and the local police and National Guard are out in full force.

Like the Queen’s Garden Party, I worry about threats from the air. There are two blimps and numerous helicopters circling the track. The hill to the palace is straight across from us. Most of it is open with people sitting on blankets having picnics, but there is an area at the top full of trees. I wonder if that area is being patrolled. It’s where I’d go if I was trying to take out the Prince.

Lady Elizabeth and Allie have become fast friends. They walk to the railing where I’m standing and hand me a flute of champagne.

“You looked stressed,” Allie says.

“I’m fine. It’s just there are so many people here, and I’m worried about Lorenzo’s safety. There was talk of calling off the Queen’s Ball.”

“Speaking of the Ball,” Allie gushes. “What are your dresses like? Mine is a pale yellow Dior.”

“That will look wonderful on you,” Elizabeth says. “Mine is a bold floral, off the shoulder Pierre Galante. He’s a local designer. What about you, Huntley?”

“Uh, my dress is red.”

“Bold choice,” Elizabeth says. “Usually red is the color the Queen, herself, wears.”

My eyes widen. “Does that mean no one else is supposed to wear that color? Lorenzo bought the dress. It was the one that ended the fashion show, remember that one, Allie?”

Allie claps her hands. “Of course, I remember! It was to die for!”

“But if he knows that’s the color his mother always wears, why would he do that?”

“Maybe it’s intentional,” Elizabeth says. “I keep reading about the two of you. You’ve had a whirlwind romance from the sounds of it.”