by W. J. May
Devon whistled behind her.
This room alone could entertain the queen or a prince and soon-to-be princess. It looked like a picture out of one of the books that showed royal weddings and Buckingham Palace.
She slipped off her runners and leaned around Devon to set them in the hallway. They did not belong in a place like this.
“Feeling underdressed?” Devon laughed quietly. He moved around her and tossed his bag onto the brown leather couch facing a bookcase. “I'm starving. Let's go see what the kitchen looks like.”
Rae followed, her feet padding softly on the granite floor and expensive carpets. The enormous kitchen had counters running around with stainless steel appliances in between. An island in the middle had a stove top with a venting system above it. Bar stool chairs sat at one end, and a vast wine rack behind it.
Devon went straight for the fridge, barely bothering to glance around. “Good. It's stocked.” He disappeared behind the door, appearing a moment later with everything needed to make a gourmet sandwich. He slammed the door closed with his foot. “Find some plates, will you?”
Rae did as he asked, mainly because she wanted to see what was inside each closed cabinet. The fourth cupboard she opened had the dinner settings. She slid two plates across the island toward Devon, who was busy cutting up cucumbers. Rae continued going through the drawers, finding another dinner setting much fancier than the first, along with wine glasses and crystal.
“Everything's expensive. We break one of the goblets, and it'll probably cost us a week's pay to replace.”
Devon popped a crisp into his mouth. Rae hadn't even noticed him go to the food pantry shelves to grab the chips. “Privy Council is responsible for all breakages, not us.”
Rae's eyebrows pressed together. “That something learned from personal experience?”
Devon grinned, his dimple teasing her with its cuteness. “Possibly.” He handed her a plate with a sandwich stacked high with meat and vegetables on it. He turned and started back towards the living room.
“Uh-oh, mister.” Rae shook her head. “You are NOT eating in there. Sit your butt down here and eat.” She pulled a wood and snake patterned leather bar stool out for him and then planted herself on one beside it.
Devon, thankfully, didn't argue. He sat down and finished his sandwich before Rae was halfway through hers. He got up and made another one and sat down beside her again.
Rae wanted to see the rest of their place. A thought crossed her mind. “How many bedrooms does this place have?”
Devon shrugged and stole a chip from her plate. “No idea.” His hand paused mid-air, chip hanging between his fingers. “At least two, I think.”
Seriously? Were the Privy Council actually trying to get them together? Maybe Carter was testing them to see if they were hiding something from the company. Rae jumped off her chair and strode to the other side of the living room. A long hallway with the same high vaulted ceilings as the living room offered three doors. The first was a bathroom, not simple by any means.
The second door opened to a large office with a desk and fireplace. The door on the far side apparently opened to a closet. From the size of the bathroom, she figured the closet was most likely a walk in one. The last door was a bedroom with a massive canopy bed and ornate gold furniture that matched the living room ceiling. Two opened doors showed massive walk-in closets, each with a few pieces of clothes that hung in them. Hadn't Carter or Jennifer said they had their clothing organized?
Devon walked into the room a few minutes later. He glanced around quickly and then checked the men's closet.
“There's barely anything,” Rae commented absently from her frozen spot beside a tall full-length mirror. One bedroom? She couldn't get past that one thought.
“Maybe it's coming in tomorrow. There's enough for a couple of days.” Devon didn't appear worried.
“There's only one bedroom.”
Devon shrugged. “It's fine. Th…”
“We are so NOT fine! I'm not sharing this bed!” Her voice rose. Last night he had brushed her off. She had no intention of going through that same feeling of rejection ever again.
“It's fine!” He used his hands in a patting motion as if to calm her down. “The office has a bed. It's hidden so no one would notice. It's in the office closet. It's fine.” He gave her a half-smile. “Even has a small en suite bathroom. Tiny in comparison to the rest of this place, but it's good for me.” He glanced around the room. “This is all a bit too much. How do rich people actually like this stuff?”
A relieved Rae plopped onto her bed, enjoying its perfect firmness
“Not too extravagant?” He leaned against the doorframe of his closet.
“I wouldn't complain if I had to live here forever.” With you, or without?
Devon pulled out his phone and checked it. Rae waited as he typed and scrolled through emails or whatever else he was reading. He slipped the phone into his back pocket and moved to sit in one of the expensive leather reading chairs across from the window. He swung his feet over the tall side arms and leaned back. “Carter messaged. Clothes are upstairs; a Council designer is going to fit us tomorrow.”
“Good.” She was beginning to think this mission wasn't going to be as bad as she had initially thought. Then she remembered her manners. “Thanks.”
Devon sat quietly for a few minutes before releasing a long sigh. “We should probably set some ground rules while we're undercover being… mates”
“What?” She sat up on the bed, leaning back on her elbows.
“You know… mates.” He chewed on his lower lip and wouldn't look her in the eye.
Why did he look so uncomfortable? “You mean acting like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” He met her gaze but quickly looked away again.
“What kind of ground rules?” They didn't have to worry about sharing the same room, what else would be a problem?
Devon swung his legs around and set his feet on the floor. He shifted the chair, so he was facing her. He rested his elbows on his knees. “We have to be convincing. No one's going to buy that we are together if we don't act like we are.”
“We'll be fine.” She tried to envision any situation where it might be awkward. “It's not like the Privy Council is going to want us… you know, making-out in public.”
Devon nodded, his face still serious. “You don't know what we are going to have to do. I agree, we probably won't need to worry about full on, make-out sessions, but there will be times for public displays of affection.”
“PDA's?”
“Yeah. Holding hands.” His head tilted slightly. “You okay with that?”
Rae sat up, cross-legged on the bed. “Yes. Are you?” She couldn't help but tease him a bit; he seemed way too serious for this conversation. She had worried about it earlier but to see that Devon was struggling with the same dilemma; it calmed her.
“No! I'm totally fine.”
“What about kissing?” Her insides trembled at the thought. “It might be required. I can keep it professional. Can you?”
Devon blinked once and then again. “Sure. No problem.”
Liar. “The Royal Tea thing is a Masquerade Ball. Can you dance?” She wasn't about to admit she knew nothing about ballroom dancing.
“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I might need to take some dance lessons. I'll let Carter know. He can get someone here to teach me.”
She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “We might as well take the lessons together. It'll make it more realistic-professional then.”
Devon stood. “I'll get that sorted now then.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket and read something on it. “Looks like we are going to have some company.”
“What?” Rae slid off the bed. “You're kidding!”
“I'm afraid not. Carter just received the message and contacted us.”
“Who is it? Maria and Curtis?”
“Afraid not. They're already unloading thei
r equipment into the flat across from us.”
“Is it the stylist person?” Rae glanced at the closet. There wasn't much selection, and she had no idea if any of it fit. It was stupid to leave without taking a suitcase of clothes. Why she had never even considered, it was beyond senseless. At least the dress person was on their way.
“It's not the stylist.”
Seriously?
“It's the Prince of Wales' fiancé.”
“You're jokin'?! She's coming here? How soon? Crap! I need to shower!” She wasn't sure if her heart or her mouth were moving faster. Her body had switched to Riley's cheetah tatù, and she quickly swapped it for Jennifer's leopard tatù to get rid of the frenzy-panic caffeine feeling. The bathroom had better be supplied with towels, shower gel and anything else! Wait! Slow down, Kerrigan. Someone stocked the kitchen; the bathroom should be as well.
“Me, too.” Devon checked his watch. “I'll meet you, uh, in the living room, shortly. Race ya!” He disappeared out of the door using his tatù to move fast.
“Could life be any more disorganized?” Rae mumbled. She didn't have time to consider the answer at the moment. She rushed into the bathroom and flipped the fancy shower faucet on inside a large glass and marble shower. She threw her hair in a bun, not bothering to wash it, knowing there wouldn't be time to blow dry if she wanted to beat Devon. While slathering her body with foam, she checked out the large bathroom through the glass. The bathroom color scheme was black and white with the same glass and marble accents as the primary building structures. A large claw-foot tub looked inviting, and she planned on using that one night. At the end of a long, two sink make-up counter, a three piece full-length mirror section allowed full view for dress or hair styling. This bathroom equalled pure paradise.
Rae dried off quickly and wrapped a large fluffy towel around her chest, tucking it in under her armpit. She swung her head around. No clothes. She had no bloody clothes!
She dashed out of the bathroom, straight for the walk-in closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a blur of motion come from the bedroom door. Her mind registered what it was a moment too late just as she crashed into Devon, both of them tumbling to the floor. Rae rolled and crashed into the wall. Devon stumbled and fell backward into the closet with Rae's clothes.
His towel wasn't as lucky. It landed in front of Rae. Actually, clutched in her hand. She let go of it and glanced down, double-checking it wasn't hers.
“Rae?” Only Devon's head popped around the doorframe, his cheeks a hint of a shade of rosy. “Is my t-can you hand me my towel?”
She stood, keeping her arms tight around her. She leaned slightly as she handed him his towel, trying to get a slight glimpse of more skin. She grinned when he grasped for it, and she held it slightly out of reach.
“Rae Kerrigan!”
“You forfeit?” She wiggled his towel.
An exasperated breath escaped his lips. “Fine! You win!” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Towel?”
“The mighty Devon brought down by a loin cloth?” She giggled and tossed the towel into the closet.
Devon marched out; the towel held extra tight in his fist. His muscular chest taut with drops of water on his skin.
Rae watched him head into his closet and come out a minute later in black dress pants and a red polo shirt. He looked handsome. “That was quick.”
He grinned. “We do have speed on our side.” He raised one eyebrow. “Except for maybe you. Why are you still like that?” He gestured at her body.
Whoops! She slipped into her closet, closing the door behind her. Three dresses rested on hangers. No pants, no clothing perfect for fighting and doing undercover intelligence stuff. She felt the material of the black dress. The shoulders were leather and ran down the front in a V. It was just above knee length. The garnet red dress beside was long and way too fancy for walking around the flat in. More for a fancy dinner or something. The last dress hanging had navy blue and white stripes, empire waist and no sleeves.
Rae found new undergarments in the drawers. She slipped them on and tried the black dress. The full mirror on the back of the door showed Rae someone she didn't recognize. The dress clung to her, and the low V-cut exposing more flesh than Rae had ever shown. She tried running on the spot, just to see if the dress rode up or anything fell out. Amazingly nothing did, and the dress clung perfectly below her derriere. The dress was made to move fast in, and the material stretched and offered the right amount of freedom for movement. She hung it back up, not prepared to wear it today.
She then tried the long striped dress. It felt fancy to Rae but was by far the most casual of the three. In the mirror, she looked mature and graceful. She pulled her hair out of her bun and let one part fall over her shoulder. She imagined her mother in this dress, in this same situation and wondered how composed she would have been. Probably perfect under pressure. Rae appeared calm on the outside from the mirror's reflection, but everything inside her seemed to be running in circles and crashing together like her and Devon just had.
Could she keep it up in front of the future Princess of Wales, the next Queen of England?
The doorbell chimed, warning her that she didn't have time to contemplate.
Chapter 8
Rae rushed back to the bathroom to check if, by chance, a drawer had any make up in it. Thankfully she found one full of stuff. She referred to it as stuff because she only owned mascara, eyeliner, lip gloss and the occasional bit of eye shadow. Hers fit into a pencil case with room to spare. The drawer she found had more stuff than a cosmetic store!
She fluffed her hair with her hands and threw on some mascara and lip gloss, thankful for the speed that came with one of the tatùs she could mimic. She didn't even concentrate on which tatù she was using. It was becoming easier and easier just to let her body sense the one she needed and switch to it.
As she hurried down the hall, she heard Devon clear his throat and open the door. Rae was in the living room, her elbow resting against the white marble fireplace before Devon had opened the door all the way. She ran her fingers through her hair, hoping her run away curls weren't flying.
Inside the doorframe stood a very large, muscular man in a dark suit. “Devon Wardell?”
“Yes, sir.” Devon held out his hand.
The man ignored it and lifted his arm, so he spoke into his wrist. “Hallway clear. Will confirm the flat is clear, then you can bring her in.”
He spoke quietly, but Rae easily picked it up with Devon's tatù. As he stepped inside, his gaze darted everywhere. “Can I see some identification?”
“Sure.” Devon patted the back of his pants before swinging around toward the couch. He glanced at Rae and hesitated a moment before leaning over and reaching into his backpack.
The royal security man charged inside the room and twisted both of Devon's arms, so they were behind his back. As Rae took a step forward to stop him, she realized Devon was letting the guard pin him. “What do you think you're doing, son?”
“Reaching for my I.D.” Devon grimaced but didn't cry out. The man obviously had him in a tight hold.
“Where is it?” Holding Devon with one hand, he dumped the contents of the backpack on the couch. Devon's black leather wallet among the falling debris.
“I'd point to where it is, but you've got both my hands, sir.”
Rae calmly watched, impressed with the guard's degree of protection for the soon-to-be princess. She wondered if she should be acting as the panic stricken girlfriend.
“Let him go, Alfie.” A soft voice cut the tension in the air. “He's clear. The flat is clear, as is the entire building.” A beautifully stunning blonde girl, about the same age and height as Rae stepped into the room.
“Alfie” grudgingly let Devon go. “Mum, if you let me do my job, then you can safely do yours.”
The girl strode into the room with an air of confidence in her walk Rae knew she would never possess. “Sarah.” The words slipped out of Rae's mouth before she realized
she had said them out loud.
The soon-to-be princess calmly turned her attention to Rae as another man in a suit stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. He stood beside it, his feet shoulder width apart, and his hands crossed perfectly over each other as he stood guard.
“K-Karen?” Sarah smiled warmly at her and walked over to Rae like they were long lost friends. “Karen! You look gorgeous, petal.”
You idiot! You two are school friends. She's seen the file too. Well, part of it at least. “Princess Sarah,” she said as she tried to curtsey. “It's a pleasure.”
The soon-to-be princess waved her hand. “Please Karen. Drop the formalities. I was Sarah growing up and your friend Sarah long before the future princess got added to my name. Besides, I'm not a princess yet.”
“Don't forget ‘of Wales'. Should I say that as well?” Rae hoped her joke covered her rookie mistake.
A perfect tinkle of a laugh escaped the soon-to-be princess's smile. “You call me by that official name and I'll have Alfie strip search you.”
“Mum!” Alfie straightened, his arms crossed over his chest as he walked over to check the kitchen. “How many exits does this place have?” he asked Devon.
“Two. This one and the kitchen has a set of sliding doors leading into the conservatory.” Devon bent over to pick up the items belonging inside his backpack. “I will show you around once I clean up this mess.”
Alfie ignored Devon as he disappeared into the kitchen. Devon rolled his eyes at Rae as he shrugged and followed him.
“Clear.” The word echoed through the ear piece the bodyguard at the door was wearing.
Alfie and Devon appeared back into the living room a moment later. “I need to check the rest of the place.”
Sarah shook her head. “No, you do not! You and Lenny can wait outside. Go get some fresh air. I'll be perfectly fine in here.”
Alfie was already crossing the room toward the hall.