“I suppose, but what if it’s like anything you gorge on? Eventually, you lose your taste for it—or worse, grow to hate it. It would really be a shame if you lost the taste for kitty.”
He blows champagne out of his mouth, laughing. “You are funny.” He caresses my hair. “Would you like to be the one I gorge on?”
I back away. “I’d rather gorge on love, because that’s the one thing you never get sick of.”
“Hopeless romantic?”
“Maybe.”
“Yet, your first night in Montrovia you went home with a British lad you had just met.”
“How would you know that?”
“He talks. Says you’re wild.”
“Wesley was so drunk, he passed out before any wildness could take place,” I lie. In reality, I may have shot him with a tranquilizer dart and drug him to bed.
“You spent the night. When he woke up, you were naked.”
“No, I was wearing exactly what I’m wearing now—albeit, a larger version. Basically, I was wearing what one would to the beach in your lovely country.”
“You were in an evening gown at the casino.”
“Which was entirely sequined. I would have ruined the dress had I slept in it.”
“So, he lied?”
“Well, I may have led him to believe we’d had a good night.”
“Why?”
“Before I realized he was shit-faced, he was sweet to me.”
“How so?”
“I was at the bar and someone made a nasty comment about my dress. He told the guy to shut up. It was chivalrous, and I appreciate that in a man.”
“Sounds like you need a prince.”
“Oh, for gosh sake, give it a rest. You’re the Prince. I get it. If I succumb to his royal sexual wishes, maybe I could live a fairytale. No thanks.”
“No thanks?” He’s taken aback.
I lean toward him, my towel purposely slipping a little in the front. “Lorenzo, if all I wanted to do was screw you, I would have already.”
“You were straddling me in the mermaid bath,” he counters. “And you said you care about me in front of my mother.”
“I’m not saying I’m not attracted to you, but when you drop all the prince shit and be yourself, I really like you. You’re funny. Smart. Interesting to talk to. I enjoy your company.”
For this I get a grin. “I enjoy your company, too. I’ve had a lovely day and am looking forward to a wonderful evening.” He glances at the clock again. “I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.”
“Then, I’ll have to join you later. I’m afraid it’ll take longer than that for me to get ready. Hair and makeup isn’t due for another twenty minutes.”
“I took the liberty of acquiring the dress from the fashion show for you to wear to the Queen’s Ball.”
“So I’d sleep with you?”
He grins and pulls me closer. “Huntley, if all I wanted to do was screw you, I would have already.”
I swallow hard as my body heats up again. He says it like a threat as he holds a robe out for me. I slide off the wet bottoms, gently rub the plush towel across my skin to dry it, and then drop it to the floor—allowing him a full shot of me naked—before slipping into the robe.
As he grabs the belt and securely cinches it around my waist, he sighs heavily, acting as if it is the only thing keeping us apart.
He strips out of his euro-Speedo, eyes me—and wraps a towel around his waist, shielding himself from my view.
And I know without a doubt I’m going to have to sleep with him soon.
* * *
He goes to his meeting while I get ready. Along with my dress for tonight, there is a box adorned with an elaborately embroidered silk. Inside is a credit card to allow me entry—and probably to prevent people from crashing—along with a scroll declaring the party details. It’s quite luxe, and I’ve never seen an invitation like it.
After my hair and makeup are complete, I get dressed and then go into the billiards room and play darts to pass the time.
“Remind me to never play with you,” Lorenzo says, entering the room and eyeing my score, which consists of five bulls-eyes and one just outside ring. “You’re a ringer.”
“No, I never lie about my dart throwing abilities,” I tease.
“You look gorgeous. That is quite the dress.”
“You don’t think it’s too scandalous?”
“I love a good scandal,” he says, pulling me into his arms and kissing my neck.
The party is ridiculous. The yacht is worth at least three hundred million dollars and is decked out in more of the embroidered silk from the invitations. The guests are all A-list, with royalty, celebrities, drivers, and more beautiful people and designer clothing than I have ever seen in one place. The security is tight, and I find myself relaxing and just enjoying the atmosphere and my date, who holds my hand and adorably introduces me to everyone he knows.
I haven’t seen Ari since we arrived, but he did send me a text earlier. It was just a heart, meaning that Gallagher is one of the good guys.
I’m returning from a quick trip to the ladies’ room when I run smack dab into the British spy. The hallway is narrow, and he makes it feel tighter by placing his hand above the wall near my shoulder and leaning toward me.
“I saw you on the Royal Yacht in your bikini today. The French Barbie twins on the neighboring boat were jealous.”
“Because I was alone with the Prince?”
“Mostly because of how you looked in your bikini.”
I give pause. Is my idol flirting with me?
Well, I can flirt back. “How old are you?”
He leans closer. “Old enough to know better. I shouldn’t be sending gifts to someone so young, but I couldn’t resist.”
“It was nice of you.” I bat my eyelashes at him, causing him to swallow hard.
As in I just made the great Intrepid react, sexually. My instructor in hand-to-hand combat told me being a girl was one of my greatest weapons, because I would be underestimated by my adversaries.
“I have to be honest with you,” he says. “I bought it because—”
“You want me to introduce you to the twins?”
“Will they be at your party?”
“No.”
“I’d still like to come.”
“Why?”
He leans closer again. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I slide under his arm and back away. “Actually, it’s not.”
“Fine. I’d like to meet the Prince.”
“So go talk to him now.”
He sighs like he’s about to tell me a big secret. Like I wore him down, but I know better. One of his documented abilities was recruitment—his ability to get normal citizens to help him in the name of The Crown. I also read that his bullshit meter is high—that he can spot a lie from a mile away. I have to be totally on my game whenever he’s around.
“I’m going to tell you the truth,” he says. “I’m not here for the race. I work for the British government, and we’re worried about the Prince’s safety.”
“So why don’t you have your government call their government and set up a meeting?”
“Because his government isn’t throwing your party.”
“Do you think someone is going to try to kill the Prince at my party?”
“I don’t know.”
“Uh, huh. And exactly which part of the government do you work for?”
“MI6.”
“A real-life James Bond, huh?” I laugh in his face. “You know, if you’re trying to seduce me, you’re working way too hard. The purse was a good start. You should have followed it up with a kiss, not some ridiculous story.”
“I believe the Prince is in danger, and so are you.”
“And how do I know he’s not in danger from you?” I kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the bag.”
Take that, Intrepid.
The rest of the evening continues with exquisite food and flowing drinks. The Pr
ince and I take to the dance floor for a couple of hours until he asks if I’d like to go somewhere more private.
He takes my hand and leads me off the boat and toward the water, not back to his car like I expected.
“Where are you going?” Juan asks.
“I’d like to show the lovely Miss Von Allister the gorgeous view of our great city at night.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not asking for permission, Juan. This is a completely unplanned whim. Common sense tells us that anyone out to get me would have done so at the party. They couldn’t scramble fast enough to plan anything right now. We’ll be quick and perfectly safe.”
He leads me to the end of the dock then turns me around to take in the view of Cap. The lights go up the hillside, showing off beautiful homes and a few sleek high-rises.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, turning to face him.
He puts his lips on mine. “I think I’m falling for you, Huntley.”
“You’re standing next to the water at the end of a dock. One little push and you’d literally be falling,” I tease, gently putting my hand against his chest and pretending to push.
He grabs my hand and flops backwards, taking us both into the water.
I take a deep breath just as we hit but still come up sputter-choking.
“You are totally insane! I love it. Even though you probably just ruined my dress.”
“I’ll buy you ten new ones.” He pulls me close, kissing me.
“Your Royal Highness!” one of his bodyguards yells as flashlights beam down on us.
He doesn’t reply, just threads his hands through my hair and deepens our kiss with a dart of his tongue. The Prince is polite and well-mannered, asking for permission rather than assuming. It’s sweet.
And fun to play along. Although, it’s a little difficult to concentrate on kissing someone and feeling super sexy when your beaded cocktail dress suddenly feels like it weighs about two hundred thousand pounds, and even though you float in the salt water, you find yourself needing to tread water every so often so that you don’t ruin your mission by drowning the Prince yourself, who is too busy caressing your back to worry about those pesky details.
It’s also hard to kiss a prince who you are supposed to be protecting. Especially when you should have your eyes open to scan the area for danger—from assassins, sharks, whatever—and you’re seriously considering using the knife blade in your shoe to cut yourself free of your dress.
I wiggle my toes. Shit. My shoes have drowned.
His hands move to cup my ass and give it a little squeeze.
I pull out of his embrace. “You know, it would be a pity if the newspapers reported tomorrow that our cause of death was that we were drowned by a beaded party dress.”
He chuckles. “You, Lee, make me laugh.”
“What did you just call me?” I ask as a memory flashes though my brain—fast and painful. But I have to ignore it.
“Lee, like short for Hunt-ley. I didn’t think anyone probably called you Hunt. I’m sorry if that’s too forward of me.”
“You just had your tongue in my mouth and your hands on my ass, I’d say you’ve already been forward.”
“And?”
“I like it. On both accounts.”
He snaps his fingers, and two guards appear at the top of the dock. He helps the guards hoist all six hundred pounds of me out of the water.
The top of my silk chiffon dress has become transparent, allowing everyone in the vicinity—including two photographers who start snapping photos of me—to see my braless boobs, which are at attention from both the make-out session and the cool night air. The Prince’s bodyguard graciously slips his jacket on me while the Prince comes up the ladder—which would have been my preference instead of looking like a damsel in distress being hoisted out.
“Prince Lorenzo! Prince Lorenzo, what happened?” the paparazzi yell.
“I got fresh, and Miss Von Allister threatened to push me in the water. Being the cad I am, I pulled her in with me.”
I’m about to give a witty comeback when a red dot skitters across the Prince’s head.
And I know what that means.
My heart races—adrenaline pumping through me.
I react immediately by leaping on top of him and knocking him to the deck just as a bullet hits one of the yachts behind us, quickly followed by the sound of a gun’s retort.
The weapon is silenced but still makes a sound that you can’t miss.
I know it won’t take long for the shooter to align the next shot.
I grab the Prince around the waist and quickly roll us back off the dock and into the water. Based on the trajectory of the shot, the shooter is higher than us and that puts us at a big disadvantage.
Another shot hits the dock right where we were just lying and whizzes into the water.
I grab the Prince and pull him toward a boat, so we can use it as cover. Although a shot to one of the boat’s fuel cells could cause us a lot of damage, I try not to think about that. Staying in the darkened water and with our heads low, I drag the Prince to safety.
The reporters scream. The Prince’s guards yell for them to take cover while shouting orders to each other. They radio for backup and send men to search for the shooter.
But another shot rings out. This one hits the water where we rolled in, but is not close to where we are now.
I take a deep breath. I just saved the Prince.
Again.
What I need to do right now is capture the shooter and interrogate him, but it would probably look a tad suspicious if I took off running.
Maybe the guards will find and arrest him.
In the meantime, I need to keep the handsome man in front of me safe.
“We almost got shot,” he states numbly.
“Yes, I think someone just tried to kill you again,” I whisper. “Let’s climb up onto this boat.” I point at the ladder on a small yacht. The boat is dark and appears to be empty. I lost my clutch and shoes earlier. No way to get in touch with Ari for back up.
“You’re shivering,” the Prince says, wrapping his arms around me.
“So are you. It’s the adrenaline rush. We’re coming down. And we’re wet.”
He holds me close. “Did you just save my life again?”
“Maybe.”
“How did you know?”
Before I can answer, twenty guards board the yacht, and I’m pulled away from the Prince.
“Stop it,” he tells them. “Let her go.”
“Your Highness, you narrowly escaped another assassination attempt.”
“Only because she jumped on me.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little convenient?”
“I’d say so, otherwise I’d be dead. No thanks to you lot.”
“How did she know a shot was about to be fired, when your elite force did not?”
They all turn to me in question.
“There was a little red dot.” I point to a spot on my own forehead.
“And you just happened to know that red light was from the scope of a sniper’s rifle?”
“I like action movies. I just reacted.” I shrug and try to look bewildered by it all.
The Prince marches through the guards and takes my face in his hands.
“Thank you.” He shows his gratitude by giving me a sweet but epic kiss. Then he wraps an arm around me and turns to the guards. “You should be out looking for the shooter.”
“We are, sir.”
“Then get us home.”
Once at the castle, and in the privacy of his bedroom, Lorenzo pulls me into a frantic kiss, then we strip each other out of our cold, wet clothes. We’re naked and tightly pressed against each other, the heat warming us both.
It’s clear that he wants to sleep with me.
And my body is responding in like.
He runs his mouth up the side of my neck and says, “I greatly desire you.”
And I
desire him, too. I’m attracted to him. Sleeping with him would be good for my mission. So what’s stopping me?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Lorenzo, I greatly desire you, as well, but I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Why not is a good question. For the good of my mission, I should sleep with him. But I like him too much to do that. Which honestly, makes no sense. It’s just that if I ever get to sleep with him, I want it to be me not the spy.
“Because we’re all pumped up from surviving yet another attack together. I don’t want that to interfere with how wonderful our courtship has been so far.”
“Neither do I, but I think—”
We’re interrupted by a knock on his door. “Prince Lorenzo,” Juan says from the other side. “I’m afraid our national agency and military would like you to attend an emergency meeting. There is talk of calling off the race. Or putting you under house arrest until the threat passes.”
“Do you know how long it will take?” he replies, still clutching me.
“Sorry, I do not.”
Lorenzo reluctantly loosens our embrace. “Would you like to relax in my quarters until I’m finished? Although I regret that I have no idea when that will be.”
“Would it be okay if I just went home? I wasn’t home all day, and I’m supposed to meet with the caterers in the morning to finalize the brunch menu for race day. Although, I suppose we should consider cancelling that too.”
“Don’t be silly. We won’t be cancelling either, and I will be attending both events. Get some sleep, my sweet, and I will call on you tomorrow. Juan will see you home.”
He hands me a cashmere lounger to wear and quickly gets dressed in black slacks and a sweater. His hair is still damp, and he looks delicious, but we only have time for a quick goodbye kiss.
When I get home, I leave a note on Ellis’s desk requesting a new phone.
On the way to my room, I stop to see if Ari is home, but he’s not. I also discover that neither are Peter and Allie, which I guess isn’t that big of a surprise as they mentioned that the yacht party would go on all night long. I guess I sort of thought the shots fired at the docks might have slowed it down, but no one probably heard it over the loud, pumping music.
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