my eyes as Ari sets them on my desk and plucks an envelope out of the arrangement. He’s followed into the room by our housekeeper who places a large gift-wrapped box on my bed and then retreats. On top of it is a formal invitation with my name in a gorgeous gold calligraphy.
Ari plops down on my bed as I brush my hair off my face and fluff it. I’m sure it’s a freaking mess.
He narrows his eyes, surveying me and then my messy bed. “If I didn’t know you were home early and alone last night, I’d think you had a night filled with sex.”
“I had a restless sleep,” I say, attempting to explain the rumpled sheets and the duvet strewn across the floor.
“You always sleep in a man’s shirt?”
I arch an eyebrow at my fake brother. “Sometimes I just sleep naked.”
He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone on my bedside table. “My sister and I would like to have brunch on her terrace.”
“Could you ask the chef to make me something hearty? Maybe a grilled cheese and roasted tomato sandwich?”
I’m starved. Must be from all the calories I burned with Daniel last night.
Ari lets the kitchen know what we’d like and then holds up the invitation. “This is from the Queen.”
“So, the flowers must be from the Prince,” I say, hiding my personal disappointment even though I am actually professionally thrilled they’re from him. It means he’s interested. I pop the seal, pull the card out, and read aloud. “ Please accept these flowers as a token of my sincerest apologies regarding the events yesterday. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me to the Queen’s Garden Party today as well as the fashion show this evening. Sincerely, Lorenzo .” I open the larger gilded envelope to find an inner envelope with both my name and Ari’s, followed by a formal invitation to the tea. I toss it to him. “Looks like you’re invited, too.”
“You’re playing him well,” Ari says. “I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with your quick thinking yesterday. I wasn’t sure if you were just theory and promise.”
“Is this your first mission?”
“With the CIA, yes. But I’ve been on special ops missions in the Army.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, tilting my head. Sometimes I wonder if I could really do it. Hitting targets with rubber bullets and in simulations is a lot different than seeing it happen in front of you. I should know.
He looks down. “Yes, I have.”
“I haven’t. You’re right to have concerns about me. I’m well-trained and prepared but not yet field tested. Ari, what was your mission? Like, what did they tell you?”
“No one told me anything. I was simply given an envelope. Inside it was a single card with my mission. To uncover the person or persons behind the plot to assassinate the Prince of Montrovia.”
“What color was it? The envelope.”
“It was pink and covered with glitter, rainbows, and unicorns.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What do you think? It was a nondescript plain white envelope with a plain white card inside with black print.” He studies me. “What color was yours?”
“Same,” I lie, realizing that my mission was slightly different. While I, too, was ordered to uncover the plot, my mission varied in that I am supposed to also both protect the Prince and eliminate those responsible. I think about my training. I was taught to kill a man with nothing more than a paper clip. I can tail a mark without his knowledge. And, once during training, I jumped out of a three-story building using an embroidered hankie as a parachute. I was the star student at Blackwood Academy. Only instead of excelling at normal collegiate activities like keg stands and frat parties, I’m an expert marksman, unbeaten in hand-to-hand combat, and impossible for even the school’s best to tail. “Is that all it said?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah, it is,” I lie, opening the gift. Inside are three smaller boxes. One with the
Ari plops down on my bed as I brush my hair off my face and fluff it. I’m sure it’s a freaking mess.
He narrows his eyes, surveying me and then my messy bed. “If I didn’t know you were home early and alone last night, I’d think you had a night filled with sex.”
“I had a restless sleep,” I say, attempting to explain the rumpled sheets and the duvet strewn across the floor.
“You always sleep in a man’s shirt?”
I arch an eyebrow at my fake brother. “Sometimes I just sleep naked.”
He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone on my bedside table. “My sister and I would like to have brunch on her terrace.”
“Could you ask the chef to make me something hearty? Maybe a grilled cheese and roasted tomato sandwich?”
I’m starved. Must be from all the calories I burned with Daniel last night.
Ari lets the kitchen know what we’d like and then holds up the invitation. “This is from the Queen.”
“So, the flowers must be from the Prince,” I say, hiding my personal disappointment even though I am actually professionally thrilled they’re from him. It means he’s interested. I pop the seal, pull the card out, and read aloud. “ Please accept these flowers as a token of my sincerest apologies regarding the events yesterday. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me to the Queen’s Garden Party today as well as the fashion show this evening. Sincerely, Lorenzo .” I open the larger gilded envelope to find an inner envelope with both my name and Ari’s, followed by a formal invitation to the tea. I toss it to him. “Looks like you’re invited, too.”
“You’re playing him well,” Ari says. “I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with your quick thinking yesterday. I wasn’t sure if you were just theory and promise.”
“Is this your first mission?”
“With the CIA, yes. But I’ve been on special ops missions in the Army.”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, tilting my head. Sometimes I wonder if I could really do it. Hitting targets with rubber bullets and in simulations is a lot different than seeing it happen in front of you. I should know.
He looks down. “Yes, I have.”
“I haven’t. You’re right to have concerns about me. I’m well-trained and prepared but not yet field tested. Ari, what was your mission? Like, what did they tell you?”
“No one told me anything. I was simply given an envelope. Inside it was a single card with my mission. To uncover the person or persons behind the plot to assassinate the Prince of Montrovia.”
“What color was it? The envelope.”
“It was pink and covered with glitter, rainbows, and unicorns.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What do you think? It was a nondescript plain white envelope with a plain white card inside with black print.” He studies me. “What color was yours?”
“Same,” I lie, realizing that my mission was slightly different. While I, too, was ordered to uncover the plot, my mission varied in that I am supposed to also both protect the Prince and eliminate those responsible. I think about my training. I was taught to kill a man with nothing more than a paper clip. I can tail a mark without his knowledge. And, once during training, I jumped out of a three-story building using an embroidered hankie as a parachute. I was the star student at Blackwood Academy. Only instead of excelling at normal collegiate activities like keg stands and frat parties, I’m an expert marksman, unbeaten in hand-to-hand combat, and impossible for even the school’s best to tail. “Is that all it said?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah, it is,” I lie, opening the gift. Inside are three smaller boxes. One with the
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