"Thank you, sir, but I feel exactly like my friend does. And even though many times it meant I might not walk away alive, I’d do it again in a heartbeat," Chief Petty Officer Barclay says.
“Do you now work for our MOD?" I ask Officer Barclay.
If memory serves me correctly, father has never honored Americans before.
"No, we don't work for the Ministry of Defence, Miss Cavendish. Petty Officer Buckingham—who’s also my business partner—and I, have developed the world’s most advanced smart earpiece. We’re not the first on the market, but we crush the competition. Our technology breaks down language barriers that seemed insurmountable until recently.”
I frown. "What does that mean?"
"It means that our App and our Raven Bluetooth earpiece translates LIVE between users speaking different languages. Basically, you don’t have to be gifted at languages to understand someone who doesn’t speak the same language as you. As long as the other person is also wearing our earpiece, it’s like magic. They can even place their phone inside their pocket or a handbag and it would still work. In the case of our spies, it’s a godsend for them to communicate with whistle blowers who don’t speak English. Regardless of the language, as long as the other party is wearing the earpiece, they can have a conversation.”
"Seriously?"
"Absolutely, Miss Cavendish. You could land in a small village anywhere in France and you'd still be able to communicate with the locals—even if the only word you know is bonjour," Chief Petty Officer Barclay explains.
"That's unbelievable," I exclaim. “It’s amazing that anyone would think up something like that," I shake my head completely impressed.
"It wasn’t easy—I have the wrinkles to prove it.” Chief Petty Officer Barclay swipes a finger under his eyes. He even frowns for effect. I can't help but laugh and it doesn't take much for my father to join me. “But Petty Officer Buckingham and I have never been ones to shy away from an impossible task."
“I agree. The hours were punishing and I can’t even count the number of failed attempts we had to endure until we had our first breakthrough. It was definitely a long and arduous road to success,” Officer Buckingham adds.
"You’re heroes and tech geniuses?" I say. "Lethal on the battlefield and wickedly brilliant behind a computer?"
Chief Petty Officer Barclay bellies out a loud laugh revealing a blinding smile. So far, he's oscillated between being intense and serious. This is the first time I see this lighthearted side. Okay, turn it down a notch or ten, mate. "I prefer to think about it as our hours spent tinkering with codes have paid off." The whole time he says that my eyes are riveted to his mouth. Earth to Amelia.
I turn my attention to Petty Officer Buckingham. "Do you also have Asian languages? Specifically, Korean."
He shakes his head. "Not yet. The first language we put out was Arabic because we knew first-hand how it would’ve given us an edge while we were at war. It was a strategic tool for many of our spies. Since then we’ve added several other European languages, and Hebrew. Asian languages are little trickier. We’re just about to roll out Japanese. It’s taken us months to perfect. We’ve already started working on Korean and Chinese, but we’re not there yet."
“I gather you travel to Korea often?” Chief Petty Officer Barclay asks.
“Yes, I do a lot of business in Seoul. Your App would be a godsend. Not everyone there speaks English.”
“Perhaps, we could have a set of the Raven delivered to you? That way you can test our European languages as we keep hitting milestones with the Asian languages," Chief Petty Officer Barclay suggests.
“I’d love that,” I say. "I'm already looking forward to it."
“Prime Minister, we sent several sets to different key people at the MOD, but it would be an honor to send a set to you as well.”
“I can't possibly say no to that. Thank you so much in advance. You can work out the details with Miss Lancaster for both my daughter and I."
"Absolutely," Chief Petty Officer Barclay smiles.
My father places a hand on my shoulder. "Darling, do you understand now why these men are here tonight?"
I turn my head and smile. "I’m not sure I grasp all of the intricacies of their App, but from what they’ve described, I can definitely see how their contribution would be an asset to the UK."
"That's exactly how I—”
“Pardon me, Prime Minister," Pamela Lancaster interrupts. "I just got word that—” she pauses and presses the earpiece a little further inside her ear. "The Deputy Prime Minister would like to have a word with you. I'm afraid to say that it's fairly urgent." From the dead serious look on her face, I’d say this doesn’t sound too good.
"Very well. Please give me one second." Daddy turns his attention back to us. He sighs. In that moment, he ceases being my father and takes on the role he was born to assume—that of a man who's about to make some difficult choices. I've seen that expression so many times in my life. I'd recognize it even with my eyes closed. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid duty calls. I’ll have to excuse myself. I was told when I accepted this position that there's no such thing as being off work. I didn't believe them. I guess the joke's on me," he says.
We all laugh.
"When you're the head of a nation, so much lies on your shoulders," Chief Petty Officer Barclay sympathizes.
"Indeed it does. But just like you two, I wouldn't change a thing," Daddy winks. "Darling, I'm sorry. I’ll catch you at dinner," he says before dropping a soft kiss against my cheek.
"No need to apologize, Daddy. I totally understand."
My father turns to Petty Officer Buckingham. “I prefer not to cut a good conversation short, but alas, we’ve been dealing with a sensitive situation that’s unfolding as we speak.” His tone is apologetic. “I expect to see you again after the ceremony."
"Of course, sir. You can count on it."
"Gentlemen, thank you so much for being so understanding. May I leave my daughter with you since she seems quite intrigued by your technology?" Huh? My father's question almost knocks me off my high heels.
Both officers exchange a devilish look.
"It would be an honor to watch over her, sir." Petty Officer Buckingham’s response sends a chorus of thrilling chills down my spine.
"Rest assured that we won't let her out of our sight, sir." Chief Petty Officer Barclay’s voice sounds much deeper than it did a few minutes ago.
"What more can a father ask for? Please, take good care of her," my father says.
"You can be sure of it," both men respond in unison.
Is there a conspiracy no one told me about? My father knows very well that I have a pair of officers at my service tonight. I don’t need more bodyguards. Granted, I'm not completely displeased with the idea of spending more time with these two Americans.
With that, my father flashes me a knowing smile before turning on his heel. He makes his way through the crowd with the self-assured stride of a leader unbothered by the permanent limp he collected at war. He's followed closely by his four bodyguards. From the corner of my eye I notice my own security team takes a few steps forward. They’re far enough away not to intrude, but still, their presence looms over me. Like always.
"I assume those two are your girlfriends?” Petty Officer Buckingham observes, pointing behind me with his chin.
"Exactly,” I laugh.
"You three look real tight," he says.
“What gave them away?" I ask, amused.
He arches an eyebrow, crosses his arms over his chest and places his right hand under his chin. "It’s simple really. When it comes to women's fashion, all-black is so last season. A little color goes a long way in brightening one's complexion,” Petty Officer Buckingham says, perfectly stone-faced. I so didn't see that coming.
It starts with a few laughs that become a series of staccato chuckles and then quickly mounts to something more embarrassing. Before you know it, I'm laughing wholeheartedly. When the two American officers start l
aughing, it only fuels me more. Our hilarious moment turns heads, but frankly I don't care. These events can be such a drag. Petty Officer Buckingham’s sense of humor is such a welcoming change.
“Oh my God. Did you know you were that funny?" I ask.
"No, but if you promise to always laugh in such an unconstrained way, I'll make it my motto." His voice is low and deep with his eyes locked onto mine.
I clear my throat. “There's no doubt in my mind, I'm going to have to visit the ladies room before dinner. I'm certain my mascara is running down my face and I must look like a hot mess," I nervously brush a strand of hair behind my ears.
"May I correct you, Miss Cavendish," Petty Officer Buckingham says. I frown. "I'd remove the word ‘mess’ from that sentence,” he pauses. "I’d only keep the part about you being hot." Wow. I blush so fast it nearly sends me tilting backwards. "Do your friends have names?" he asks.
Grateful that he’s changed subject, I say, "They're my second team—”
"Of course they are." Petty Officer Buckingham’s sarcastic tone is audible.
"I'm going to ignore that because you're only going to end up making me lose it again," I smile. "The woman to my right with the pulled back hair is Officer Keenan. The one with the short hair is Officer Malone." Without warning, Petty Officer Buckingham starts waving at the women behind me. I shoot a furtive glance over my shoulder. I've never seen my officers look this puzzled. "I’m sure you’re now in their good books."
"I don't blame your father for hiring bodyguards—”
My head whips back to the tall American. "It’s actually part of the package deal when your father is the head of the country," I explain.
"Personally, I think it's far more than your father following protocol." The slight tremble of his lower lip is a precursor to a joke.
"Do you? And what's your assessment of the situation, Petty Officer Buckingham?" I play along.
“What you're wearing requires that level of...” he pauses. “Very. Tight. Security."
"Is there something wrong with my dress?" I ask, taking a step away from him so he can have a full view.
His blue eyes widen. "No, ma’am. On the contrary. I'm just saying that men would go to war to defend your honor in that traffic-stopping dress.” He raises an eyebrow. “Let it be known that I’d be the first one on the battlefield with all guns blazing."
Once again Petty Officer Buckingham has me in stitches. As much as he’s keeping me amused, I can't help but notice how his friend is particularly quiet.
It takes me a few moments to compose myself. Lucky for us, this time, I don't seem to draw as much attention. I’m still trying to catch my breath, but I manage, "You're an absolute riot to hang out with."
"Speaking of hanging out..." Chief Petty Officer Barclay’s tenor voice forces my attention to him. "This isn't the first time the three of us have met." His revelation surprises me. I'm sure I must've heard wrong.
I stare at him blankly. "I'm sorry, Chief Petty Officer Barclay—”
"Please call me Holden."
"Thank God we’re finally on a first name basis. I'm Brandon."
I laugh. "Only if you promise to call me Amelia."
"You've got yourself a deal, little lady," Brandon winks.
"As I was saying, Amelia, Brandon and I met you on our first night here in London."
"That's impossible," I protest.
"Actually, it’s not." Holden holds his ground.
"And when did you arrive again?" I ask, racking my brains to search my memory bank.
"It wasn’t this past Friday, but the one before that," Holden explains.
What is he talking about? “Really?”
“Neither Holden or I have been able to forget that night.”
Huh? “There's no way I'd ever forget the two of you.” Of course, I’m not about to state aloud that the reason they’re unforgettable is because they’re outrageously sexy. I keep that to myself. I mean on a scale of one to ten, they’re both tipping at a three hundred right now. “On top of that, your impressive pedigree and that ingenious App aren’t things one forgets that easily. It would be incredibly unbecoming of me not to acknowledge knowing you, if we in fact, have met."
"You might not remember our first encounter—”
“That would only be possible if I had had a lobotomy, which I'm fairly certain I didn't," I quip, interrupting Holden. Brandon chuckles.
"You were a little tipsy that night," Holden continues.
"Tipsy?” Both men nod. "No," I shake my head in disagreement. I even wave my index finger so they know I mean business.
“Actually, Amelia, it was pretty obvious that you’d had a few too many to drink that night," Brandon comes to his friend’s defense.
"That's preposterous," my voice raises by a few octaves. I'm so incensed by this conversation that I have to close my arms over my chest. Are they implying that I have no manners? “You must have me mistaken with someone else. That's the only logical explanation. If I have more than…” Charlie's recount of my eventful birthday night comes crashing through me like a giant wave and silences me. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, wishing I was anywhere but there. When I open them, I realize, this is as real as it gets. "Oh, God," I whisper. My eyes bounce from Holden's to Brandon's. They hold my bewildered gaze. "No," I mutter, my voice so low I can barely hear myself. They nod in unison. "No," I repeat, unable to believe the irony of the situation. Another series of nods. "No, no, no," I chant. This is more of a prayer than anything else. I hope God is still up at this time.
"Yes, yes, yes," Brandon parrots, nodding emphatically.
"It was you?" I ask. “On the night of my birthday?”
I'm not sure if this is serendipity or God playing tricks on me, but this is the last place I would have ever expected to bump into these two.
"Guilty as charged," Holden smiles. “Although we didn’t know what you were celebrating.”
"Had you not brought it up, I doubt I would’ve put two and two together. My best friend Charlie—”
"The blonde who was at your party?" Brandon asks.
"Yes, that's her. She organized the whole thing.”
“She’s very...” Holden hesitates.
“Bossy? Opinionated? Dogmatic?” I finish his sentence. They both laugh. “She’s only like that when it has to do with people she cares about,” I explain.
“Good to know,” Holden says. “I wouldn’t want to cross her,” he chuckles.
“Charlie is intense. She’s one of London’s top publicists, so it comes with the territory. In any case, she shared all the sordid details of that night. Honestly, there's a part of me that wished she had made it all up—Charlie can be quite colorful. At least I could pretend to hold onto a shred of dignity. I cringe at what she told me came out of my mouth," I lament. "What a terrible way of meeting someone."
"I don't see it that way at all, Amelia. I'm glad Brandon and I were there to prevent your fall. Clearly, the guys who were hired to handle security that night were sleeping at the wheel. Of course, I would've preferred for the evening to end differently, but being there when you needed us... I wouldn’t change a thing." His words are so touching.
“The only thing that bothered us was that we didn't know who you were. We were hoping that the manager at the Warwick Club could be persuaded into giving us your name, but he wouldn't budge. Now I understand why he was so tightlipped about everything," Brandon reveals.
"You tried to find me?"
“Yes, ma’am.” Brandon’s confession surprises me. “Who would’ve ever thought you were hiding in plain sight. It's our damn fault for only focusing on the Prime Minister’s background and achievements and not knowing enough about his family."
"To be fair, I’m fiercely protective of my privacy. I’m famously reclusive and I rarely talk to the press. You won’t find much on me—my life isn’t marred with enough controversy for the gossip rags. Maybe that's why I remained a mystery to you."
"One
we were determined to solve," Brandon grins.
"Wow. I don't think that any man has ever gone to that much trouble on my account." Let alone two.
“When you rescue a woman with the beautiful face of an angel, you move heaven and earth to find out who she is." Holden's words leave me speechless.
I understand why Charlie wouldn't shut up about these two heroes.
"So, you don't hold anything I said that night against me?" I laugh.
"Not at all," Brandon responds. "That said, there is a question I was never able to answer."
"Which is?" I ask carefully.
Brandon takes a step closer and leans in. He doesn't touch me. He doesn't have to. Even with a few inches between us, the energy emanating from his body vibrates right through me. "I. Am." Two words that leave me completely baffled.
I blink up at him perplexed. "You're going to have to give me a little bit more to go by." I let out a timid laugh.
"You wanted to know if I was single. That little episode with the police put a kink into our conversation. Now that you're here, you should know that I am. And, by the way, so is Holden."
"God. So it's true? I was throwing myself at both of you like a desperate woman?" If I could dig a hole in the ground and disappear, I would. I'm not sure how this could get any more humiliating than it already is.
"And we enjoyed every single second of it." Brandon's cocksure grin is disarming.
"I'm beyond mortified. You know too much about me." I'm trying hard to save face here.
"I don't agree." It's Holden's turn to take a step closer. Just like with Brandon, our bodies nearly touch. Even though I'm acutely aware of this little intimate triangle we form, I do nothing to break it.
"The playing field isn’t level. You know my deep dark sordid secrets while I only know the good stuff about you," I joke in attempt to hide my nervousness.
“There's so much more I'm dying to know about you, dear Amelia." Brandon’s comment commands my attention. His suggestive tone doesn't go unnoticed. Don’t get me started on the way he’s devouring me with his eyes. Damn.
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