MISSION:DAY ONE
Upon arrival in the Montrovian capital, I am taken to the hospital’s royal wing where it is determined that the nausea I was suffering from is due to a level-three concussion and not due to me being pregnant with Lorenzo’s love child, as the tabloids would like to believe. I’m told I need to avoid physical exertion, video games, and other electronic devices in order to allow my brain time to heal. And that means staying here for a few days with no distractions.
Of course, Ari makes numerous jokes about my brain, but he rarely leaves my side. He brings in newspapers and tabloids and reads them to me to pass the time. The world believes the bombing of the Montrovian king’s limousine was a terrorist act. The royal press secretary says nothing to challenge this assumption.
The country of Montrovia mourns together on the third day after the bombing as they lay to rest the four royal guards who died protecting their king. I had gotten to know the men and wanted to attend the funeral, but my doctor wouldn’t discharge me—and I have a sneaking suspicion that was on the order of said king, not because I was physically unable.
I discharge myself on the fifth morning after we get word from Intrepid that Ana’s body is being released from the authorities. After her brutal murder at the Moneyman's house, I am determined to give her a proper burial. Especially since they couldn't find her next of kin.
After the horrors she went through in life, I think it’s important she knows that someone mourns her in death. Ari threatens me with all sorts of unpleasantries if I go back to London, but ultimately, he gives in and pays for a lovely service—even if he and I are the only ones in attendance. I cry during the ceremony, wondering if I will face a similar end, but when my brother reaches over and pats my hand in condolence, I know there will be at least one person at my funeral.
As we are leaving the cathedral, Intrepid phones with the news that all the other girls from the basement are being well taken care of—some reunited with their families, others given shelter and counseling through a foundation Ari set up while I was recovering. He also tells me that the DNA Terrance submitted proves that we are in fact the biological children of Ares Von Allister.
On the sixth day, I take off the sling that has been keeping my shoulder immobile and make Ari take me to a shooting range as well as spar with me to confirm that my skills are still intact. In my line of work, I can’t afford any weakness.
Lorenzo has been treating me with kid gloves this entire time. I hoped, once we confessed our love, we might consummate it as well, but he seems content in just doting on me. I’ve declined all interviews, but Lorenzo holds a fireside chat to address his country, vowing to bring those responsible to justice—which is ironic, considering the guy who did it is currently residing in a Montrovian safe house with Terrance and Olivia.
On the seventh morning, I open my eyes to the wonderful sight of Lorenzo lying next to me. He’s already awake and reading from his tablet.
“You were very sexy during your fireside chat last night,” I tell him as I slip my hand under the sheet, running it across his chest. “Your approval ratings must be very high.”
“Approval ratings have nothing to do with my happiness. Only you do.” He carefully slides his hand across my hair. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Hard not to feel amazing when you wake up in bed with a beautiful man, surrounded by flowers. You’ve been spoiling me.”
Actually, both he and what seems to be the entire country have been doing so. Ellis is busy monitoring the constant deliveries, not to mention dealing with the security detail Lorenzo insisted on having guard the villa.
“Wait until you see what I have planned for you tonight. The royal executive chef is currently in the Montanelli Province of Pisa, scouring the countryside for what he calls the diamond of the kitchen—the white truffle—with a fourth-generation truffle hunter. He will fly the truffle home this afternoon and prepare us a decadent meal of a delicate homemade pasta. We will drink the finest of champagnes in the cellar to celebrate your recovery.”
“Sounds like an amazing night. What are your plans for the day?”
“I have to head to the castle shortly, but first, I have a question for you.”
“What is it?”
“I am meeting with my mother this morning, and although I can’t wait to tell the world of our courtship, I know the moment I share it with her, she will want to make it official with a press conference, which you will need to attend. I’ve been reveling in the privacy we’ve been afforded this past week. Is it selfish of me to want to keep our love under wraps for a bit longer?”
“Not in the least. Plus, it wouldn’t be right to announce our good news the same week as the funerals for the men who died while protecting you.” He gently pulls me into his arms. “Lorenzo, I’m fine. Did my brother not tell you about our sparring match yesterday?”
“Sparring? Lee, did the doctor approve of that?”
“Not exactly, but Ari was careful not to hit my head. Besides, it was important to know if the injuries had affected my abilities.”
“And?” he asks.
“My shoulder is a bit stiff, and my range of motion is not quite as good as normal. I’d say that side of me is functioning at about three-quarters capacity. The good news, however, is that it did not affect close-range shooting skills. My preferred Sig Sauer P229 weighs in at just under two pounds, but the Dragunov sniper rifle, for example, is much heavier at nearly ten pounds. I was able to shoot the heavier gun. I just wasn’t as accurate without support.”
“I’ve had about enough of snipers,” he says, causing me to laugh.
“You sound like Chauncey when he said he was sick of explosions.”
Lorenzo rolls over, quickly pinning me underneath him. “I still can’t believe you talked me into letting the assassin in my country. Are you sure we can trust him?”
I bite the edge of my lip in consideration, but before I can answer, Lorenzo leans down and kisses me.
After a few delicious moments of making out, he pulls away.
“You didn’t let me answer,” I tease.
“I already know your answer. What are your plans for the day? More rest and relaxation I hope?”
“Actually, yes. I’ll be spending time by the pool, reading Clarice’s diary. There has to be some sort of clue in it.”
“Well, as much as I would like to stay in this bed with you all day, I must get to the palace. Take care, my sweet. I will be counting the hours until I can see you again. I will send a car for you at seven.”
“Um, what would you think if I snuck in the back way, using the passage from the docks to the war room?”
“Ah, are we having an indecent rendezvous? If so, I must prepare,” he teases as he crawls out of bed and gets dressed.
I sigh in happiness, but Lorenzo’s comment makes me wonder what kind of relationship my mother had with Ares Von Allister. Were they just school friends? Were Ari and I the result of a one-night stand? Or could they have been in love and, if so, why were they not together?
“Did you ever meet Ares Von Allister?” I ask, remembering our fathers were friends.
“Of course, but it was years ago.” He stops in the middle of putting on his suit jacket and sits on the bed next to me. “Did my indecent rendezvous comment make you uncomfortable?”
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Not in the least. Prepare away.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He squints his eyes.
“That I love you? Yes. That I want to explore the physical aspect of that love in great detail? Absolutely.”
He smiles but then hangs his head. “I am struggling with my feelings in that regard.”
“Are you saying, you don’t want me?”
“Of course not, my darling.” He slides his hand across my cheek. “I am—how can I say this in a way that won’t offend you? Eager for that exploration. But, at the same time, I am luxuriating in the slow progress of our courtship. It is refreshing, and I feel like I am able to truly get to know you without all the physical desires taking control.” He laughs. “You clearly have me under some kind of spell, for I have never uttered words such as these to anyone.”
“I think your words are the most beautiful I have ever heard spoken, Lorenzo, and I am amiable to your wishes, for I feel the same way. It’s interesting that I do. My mother used to tell me to wait for sex until I was in love, but at Blackwood, I was taught the complete opposite—that sex is simply a release of desire. That love should not be involved in the process, for it only impedes your independence and makes you weak.”
Lorenzo’s lips press against mine with such force that I am pushed against the tufted linen, which separates my head from the wall behind the bed. I kiss him with equal passion. When the kiss ends, my body is left wanting, and my heart is left swooning.
“The reason I asked you that question is because what you said made me curious about my mother and biological father’s relationship. The fact that he was never in my life suggests it wasn’t love.”
“You never know,” he says, shaking his head. “People do strange things in the name of love.” He finishes putting on his jacket and leans back toward me, slipping a finger under my chin. “Until tonight.”
After he leaves, I lie back in bed and allow myself a few moments to revel in his love. Then I get up, throw on a bikini, order breakfast, and take Clarice’s journal out to the pool deck.
As soon as I sit down, I get a call from Daniel.
“Your brother tells me your brain is mostly intact,” he says, not bothering with a hello.
“Yes, I’m feeling much better, thank you.”
“But, if that’s true, Huntley, why are you still seeing Lorenzo?”
“Maybe I love him,” I say, feeling the need to be up-front with Daniel.
“I don’t think that’s going to end well for you,” he replies.
“Because it’s dangerous, and I nearly got blown up?”
“I was thinking more about a specific body part, if you must know.”
“You would,” I smart.
“I was referring to your heart, Huntley. He’s going to break yours in two.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“That’s not what this is about,” he says with a sigh. “You’re my friend. I care about you, and I promised I’d protect you.”
“I appreciate that, Daniel. And you know I feel the same for you.”
“Then come to Omaha on Sunday. The Olympic Trials are starting. You promised to cheer me on.”
“For the actual Olympics.”
“Yeah, but if I don’t do well at the trials, I won’t make the team, so if you want to cheer me on there, you have to come here.”
“I’m still sort of recovering—” I start to say, but Daniel interrupts me with a laugh.
“Your brother told me you’d tried boxing with him. You can barely walk in high heels; what made you think you’d have a chance against Ari?”
I wish I could reply with the truth. Tell him I could kick his very buff ass in a heartbeat or could kill him in less than five seconds, but that’s probably not something a girl should brag about even if she wasn’t sort of undercover.
“You’re right; I am kind of a klutz,” I lie. “Daniel, how well did you know Ophelia and Clarice?”
“Not very well, more socially.”
“No pillow talk between either of you?” I ask.
“No way. Ophelia is way too bossy for me—I mean, was. And Clarice, while hot, was a little flighty.”
“Speaking of that, you were supposed to come talk to my dad, too. He’s going to be in Omaha for the trials—on the sly. You could kill two birds with one stone.”
I let out a chuckle. Our instructors at Blackwood said never to bother with a stone when a bullet would do. Not that I’d ever kill a bird. Crazy, right? I’d never hunt animals, but people, apparently, I’m okay with.
“I would like to see the trials,” I say, placating Daniel. “Will you have a fan club?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping Lizzie would be able to come, but she has to be in Montrovia that week,” he says with what can only be described as a pout.
“Are you and Lizzie … do you—”
“Yes, if you must know, I do like her. She’s interesting and beautiful. But her sense of duty to her family is something I don’t understand. If it came to a choice, she’d choose them over me.”
“You, of all people, should understand the pressure of being in a prominent family. You’re the president’s son. Great things are expected of you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs.
“Wait, are you referring to her possibly having to marry Lorenzo someday?”
“Yeah.” I can tell this upsets him.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I reply confidently.
“Because you think you’re going to be his bride?” he mocks.
“It’s too soon to say that, of course—”
He cuts me off again. “Huntley, come to Omaha.”
“What’s even in Omaha—cornfields and tractors?”
“I’ll be in Omaha. That’s all that should matter. A promise is a promise.”
“Maybe,” I reply even though I have no desire to go. I promised the Olympics, not some trials where I know all he has to do is show up.
After I end the call, I open Clarice’s journal and start reading. Clarice was very clearly a free spirit in all ways, including the men she slept with and wrote about in entirely too much detail for my liking.
Most of the journal reads like an erotic novel. I’m surprised Ari wasn’t glued to its pages. Maybe he has more substance than I originally thought. I haven’t seen him this morning, making me wonder what he’s up to.
I come across a small entry in the diary about Ophelia. I tag the page and keep going, marking anything that I want to refer back to. By the time I’m done, my stomach is growling, and my phone is ringing.
A look at the time tells me I’ve been so enthralled that I completely missed lunch.
“Wow, two calls in the same day. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask Daniel, genuinely shocked to be hearing from him again.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you when we talked before. Our government keeps an eye on its citizens when they are in other countries.”
“Are you saying the United States government is watching me?”
“I can say that you are a person of interest,” he says seriously but then adds, “and by that, I mean, your ass is of great interest to me. I don’t want it to end up dead.”
“Why are they watching me, Daniel?”
“I would assume it’s because you are Ares Von Allister’s daughter.”
“Even though I didn’t believe it at first, we’ve proven it.”
“What do you mean?”
“We found DNA from his home, which was used in a test. Seriously, Daniel, why would they care about me?”
“I can tell you that they watched your father.”
“My father sold products to our government that helped protect its soldiers,” I counter.
“Do you even understand his business? Or are you just having fun spending his money?”
I put my head in my palm and rub my eyes, trying to stick with my cover. “The latter, of course. We have stock holdings in companies from what I understand, but it’s not like we have a say.”
“You do when you own the majority, Huntley. And a vote is coming up. Were you notified?”
“Um, no.” I squint my eyes, wondering why we haven’t been.
“A lot of the things your father invented were done with research dollars from the US government. With that came exclusivity agreements, meaning he could only sell those cutting-edge products to us for a set amount of time. Many of those deals are coming to the end of their term.”
“Which means it’s not cutting edge anymore. What’s the big deal?”
“They trusted Ares for the most part, but the government has requested an extension on a couple of their more sensitive contracts. They are worried they won’t get it. It’s believed you might have been informed of the board meeting via a letter that you probably won’t receive until after the vote.”
“Daniel, how do you know this? Are you working for our government?”
“My father’s the president; I’m not.”
“I mean, the CIA, Daniel,” I say seriously.
“Um,” he stutters, meaning he clearly isn’t trained, probably just recruited for this.
“I see,” I say disappointedly.
Whether or not I want to admit it, the fact that Daniel might be my friend only for information bothers me. And it shouldn’t when, clearly, I set out to use him to advance my mission.
“It’s complicated, Huntley,” he says with a sigh.
Even though I know exactly how he feels, I have to say, “I bet it is. Bye, Daniel.”
“Wait. Don’t go. I don’t work for them. I don’t get paid or anything.”
“Just doing your civic duty? Getting information from me and passing it on to them?”
“Remember, in the bathroom, when I invited you to the White House?” he asks, indicating when I told him the truth about Ophelia. “That’s when it started.”
“Not before?” I ask, my heart hoping he’s telling the truth.
“Like I have time for that shit, Huntley. It’s only a few days until the Olympic Trials. Do you know what a disgrace it would be for me not to make the team? I’m not as fast as I was last year. My trainer says I’ve gained too much bulk, and it’s weighing me down in the pool, so I’m trying to lose weight and stay strong and eat. It’s my focus. You of anyone should understand my commitment. And it would mean a lot to me if you came to Omaha. From a civic-duty standpoint, I need you to meet with my dad. I need you to understand what’s going on in your father’s company, and I need you and your brother to wield the power that your father gave you to help us.”
“Why don’t you tell Mike to give me a call himself?”
“You know the director of the CIA?”
“Yeah, we’ve met a few times. He tried to recruit me in fact.”
“Well, that pisses me off. He acted like he didn’t know you.”
“You should never trust a spy, Daniel,” I tell him, feeling bold. “Next time you see Mike Burnes, tell him to be a man and ask me himself.”
“You’re crazy,” he says with a laugh.
“I don’t want you mixed up in anything dangerous.”
“Why not?”
“Because I happen to like your body just the way it is regardless of what your trainer says. As does most of the world. As long as you make the team, just showing up at the Olympics in that little patriotic swimsuit will make all the women in America happy. We really don’t care that much if you win; we just like to watch.”
I can practically hear him rolling his eyes.
“See you soon, Huntley. Just for the record, I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“I love you, too.”
“You and every other woman,” he teases as he hangs up.
I close my eyes and absorb everything Daniel said and didn’t say, my eyes shooting open.
I pick up the journal and run down to the basement.
When I get there, I find Terrance tacking photographs up on a bulletin board, and my brother is writing locations on the whiteboard next to it.
“What if my mother was investigating Ares?” I blurt out.
Ari turns and points the marker in his hand in my direction. “What makes you say that?”
“I got a call from Daniel; something he said just made it all click. And I’ve been reading Clarice’s journal. I found some things.”
“Ellis should be bringing us a late lunch down shortly,” Terrance says, taking a seat and motioning for Ari and me to do the same.
But Ari continues to pace. I think it’s how he does his best thinking.
I set the journal on the table and open it to the first page I marked. “Okay, so we’re starting with last May. I’ll just read it aloud.
“1 May
“Today, we celebrated Montrovia’s national holiday. Ophelia is becoming unbearable. She’s already a bossy know-it-all, but now, she acts like she will be queen someday.
“I told her, if I were ever called upon to serve, I’d abdicate the throne. Too much responsibility, too many people watching you with high expectations. No, thanks. But she told me that I should think deeper about all the things I have rambled about being interested in—from the protection of animals to living in peace—and how it could all be possible with the right person in charge. That made me laugh.
“The only way I’d ever become queen is if Enzo and my sister died early deaths before having heirs. If my sister were queen, she wouldn’t die just to spite me. And Montrovia would not be the wonderful place it is today, equal and just. Ophelia would rule with an iron fist. When we were young, our father used to jokingly call her the little fascist because it was her way or the highway.
“And although she pretends to hate this place because of our father, she loves being royal. I don’t care as much about that, but I love that I have money and freedom and a place in society.
“Her suggestion did give me pause though. Maybe I should be more proactive. I talk about change all the time, but that is all it is—talk. Maybe, someday, once I know more about the world, I’ll do something to bring about change.”
“And what did you consider a clue in that?” Terrance inquires.
“Not really a clue. Just let me keep going.
“28 January
“My father passed away exactly two months ago. I haven’t written anything about it until now because I haven’t felt strong enough to put it onto paper. For some reason, I felt that if I wrote it in my journal it would make it true, and I’m still holding out hope that he’ll walk in the door and ask me how his little princess is doing.
“I love my mother, but I also resent her a little. She took us away from our father when we were young. The minute I turned eighteen and was old enough to call the shots in my own life, I told my mother I was moving to Montrovia. Everyone thinks it was my sister’s idea, but it was not. While I’ve always blamed my mother, Ophelia believes our father didn’t want us around—which I know in my heart isn’t true. She decided to come with me to protect me from the evil Montrovian royal family, who she said would eat me alive. But I have found just the opposite. I love my family and this country, and they have made me feel nothing but welcome, like I finally have a home.
“I’m told my father killed himself, but I don’t believe it and, if I didn’t know better, I’d think my own sister was behind it. She’s been going on about how, when Uncle Gio passes, Lorenzo will not be fit to rule. That she could do better. And she’s just unscrupulous enough to make it happen.
“Just the other day, I saw her kick our father’s dog. The dog he’d loved and allowed to sleep on his bed, something you are not supposed to allow a prized hunting dog to do. Needless to say, the dog has been staying in my room and under my watchful eye ever since.
“And I’m very worried because, even though it hasn’t been announced to the press yet, Uncle Gio came back from the hunting trip he and my father were on as a very sick man. And they don’t know if he will survive.
“It just all seems a little fishy to me. My father always told me that I had to be careful because I was a princess, especially concerning men. That I shouldn’t allow a man to use me for my power. Not that I really have any. Mostly, I get to attend charity events and balls and raise money for the queen’s causes. And I’m proud of myself. Just before my father passed, he helped me set up my own charitable foundation so that I could start raising money for the kind of causes I found worthy. Like helping to make sure everyone in the world has water and food.
“Really, I probably wouldn’t be writing any of this even now, but today, Ophelia showed me a dollar bill that she intends to give Enzo for his birthday in March—a supposed gag gift. Apparently, she sweet-talked one of the palace guards, specifically the one in charge of the royal vault, to let her borrow the ruler’s crown to wear for a photo. The bill features her on it—as queen.
“When I told her that Lorenzo might not find it funny and that his father might not like the fact that it looks like it might have actually been printed by the Royal Minter, she pointed out the name of the country on her bill was not our great country but rather Arcadia. I let it go, knowing it was no use to argue with her. If she gave that bill to me, it would feel more like a threat than a gag gift.
“But then, when I was lying in my bed tonight, I thought about the name Arcadia. For some reason, it seemed familiar, but I couldn’t recall why. So, I looked it up. I found that, in Greek mythology, Arcadia was the home of the god Pan, which was rustic, an untouched wilderness, and it was said that he lived in perfect harmony with nature. It was considered to be an unspoiled and harmonious world, especially one uncorrupted by civilization—a utopia.
“That sounds nothing like my sister. She loves the spoils of wealth too much to live like that. Arcadia sounds more like a world of my liking where everyone is happy and free.
“But, when I clicked back to the search engine page, I noticed something by accident. That the name Ophelia was first used by a fifteenth-century poet named Jacopo Sannazaro for a character in his poem ‘Arcadia.’
“Is that why she chose Arcadia as the name of her pretend country? If she ever did come to power, would she change our country’s name?
“I should not be thinking about or even writing such things in my journal after having one too many glasses of champagne—okay, maybe three or four too many. LOL.
“Good night, fair journal.”
“Wow,” Ari says.
“Hold that thought, too. Let me keep going. One thing to note is that, from the time her father died to her next entry, she was truly in mourning. She didn’t date many people, and it’s a noticeable contrast to the great detail about her sexual encounters that she wrote previously.
“27 March
“Last night was Lorenzo’s twenty-third birthday party. It was a grand affair held at the castle but later moved to the casino where it became much more raucous and fun as we drank and gambled.
“My sister has been dating Viktor Nikolaevich for a few months. They got into some kind of tiff around three in the morning, probably because she was being her dull, bossy self, but the delicious part is that, after she left, Viktor indicated that he desired me.
“It was a night I will never forget, filled with the kind of passion I had yet to experience. And it sounds crazy, but I am in love with him.
“I know what you’re thinking, dear journal, because I would also have doubts, but it wasn’t the sexual passion that made me fall for him; it was his introducing me to something called the Terra Project.
“As our conversation went on this morning, he told me to imagine a world where everyone is truly equal and valued. A world with no war or terror. He said he knew it was strange that he, the son of a man who builds warships, would strive for the world to be as such. He confessed that his father would be ashamed of him, and there was such vulnerability in his eyes when he spoke that my heart and soul immediately became his. He told me how he had heard about the initiative through a class he took at university, and since then, he had even visited their facility in Florida. He was enthralled with the idea of a peaceful society and has been donating money to the cause without his father’s knowledge.
“Do I feel guilty about this? Yes, and no. She is my sister, and I was actually quite proud of the fact that she chose not to give Lorenzo the gag gift after all. But she’s been acting smugger than usual lately, and she even fired our father’s longtime housekeeper this week because she thought she was too nosy. That brings me to the no part. In reality, I don’t feel guilty because I know she and Viktor would never last. They are too different for it to work. But we are another story. Together, we will help bring about change in the world. I called him Terra Man and told him that he made me feel, for the first time ever, like my life was on level land.
“After that entry, most of her entries are about Viktor, but she never mentions his full name again, only calling him TM, short for Terra Man. They had many secret rendezvous and were clearly in love. Well, until he broke her heart.
“5 May
“The day I will always remember. TM broke things off with me.
“Said he’s going to propose.
“Not to me, but to my sister.
“At the Queen’s Garden Party.
“I yelled, screamed, cried, and begged. None of it makes any sense. But, when I suggested that he had just been using me this whole time, he started crying. He sweetly kissed me and told me that, no matter what, I must never doubt the love we had.
“Which isn’t much of a consolation.
“So, we first met Clarice on May 25th. At that point, she had been dating Armend for a few weeks. I thought it was odd that she was taking his shit, but I realize now that she probably latched on to the first boy who had shown her interest even if he was a bit of a jerk. She needed to make Viktor so jealous that he wouldn’t propose. When I think back to the scene at the Queen’s Garden Party, I was worried about protecting the prince at the time, but now, the things I was hearing take on a different light.”
“It’s no wonder Viktor looked so nervous,” Ari states, following my train of thought. “Clarice was gabbing about the Terra Project in front of him to anyone who would listen. It must have been her way of threatening him, don’t you think? He was probably afraid she was going to tell her sister as soon as he proposed, if not before.”
“So, why did he propose if he didn’t love her?” Terrance asks.
“I think we need to ask him that,” I reply. “I also want to know what the housekeeper she fired knew.”
“And what does this all have to do with your mother investigating Ares?”
“Just that I’ve missed so many clues before. Hints that he was under government surveillance.”
“But that makes no sense. Your mother worked for the CIA. If she was investigating Ares, it would have been her mission.”
“You’re right. And I think maybe that’s why she took a few weeks off. She needed to investigate him herself first. Remember, the CIA didn’t know she was really Kelley Bond or that she and Ares were close enough for him to father her children.
“What if the reason she never introduced me to my father is because he wasn’t a good man? And what if former president John F. Hillford Senior had her killed because she had seen or discovered something she wasn’t supposed to? What if she hadn’t told the CIA because she was afraid the conspiracy went all the way to the top of our government?”
“Let me get this straight,” Terrance says. “Are you saying, you think your mother was investigating Ares?”
“The picture she had on the disk is of his TerraSphere. He had to be mixed up in it somehow. If you recall, the dean of Blackwood, who was her handler, told me that she’d called him the night we got back home, right before she was murdered. She had set up a meeting with him because she had discovered something—something that ‘could end the world as we know it.’”
“Okay, so that makes sense for back then,” Terrance counters, trying to blow holes in the theory to see if it will float. “But both the former president and Ares Von Allister are now dead.”
“Maybe they weren’t working alone,” I suggest. “Maybe someone is going to finish what Ares started.”
“Or maybe he faked his death,” Ari throws in.
That thought knocks the wind out of me. I literally lean back in my chair like I got punched in the gut. I have never considered that possibility.
“Why do you look so white?”
“I just—what if you’re right, Ari? That would mean—what would it mean?” I’m dumbfounded.
“It would mean that you’re fighting against your own father.” Terrance laughs. “Like Luke, I am your father.”
Ari paces over and picks up the bill with Ophelia on it. “Maybe Arcadia isn’t just what Ophelia wanted to rename Montrovia. Maybe it’s the name of what’s left after the world as we know it ends.”
“So, who is Black X?” I wonder. “And why are they using Ares Von Allister’s kids to do their dirty work?”
“I think it’s a covert military group,” Terrance says. “Think about it; you go to your uncle Sam’s, and he’s the one who sends you to Blackwood. But what I don’t understand is how, after six years, they haven’t figured out the truth?”
“Maybe it’s because they still don’t know what your mom did.”
“That means Uncle Sam had to know my mother really well—as Kelley Bond and Charlotte Cassleberry. And he had to know about her relationship with Ares.”
“Could he have been related to Kelley?” Ari wonders.
“No,” Terrance says, “she was an only child.”
“Did you spend much time with your uncle Sam?” Ari asks me. “Do you know his full name?”
“I didn’t meet him until I was about ten. He and my mother seemed fond of each other. She always hugged him tightly. He was nice to me. Bought me a stuffed dog that year for Christmas. I lost it, um … when the car blew up. My dad was acting strange after my mom died. Not just in mourning, like scared, which I guess he had good reason to be.”
I’m saved from trying to remember anything else when Ellis brings us lunch. A ramekin next to my plate has two over-the-counter pain medications in it. I know they are supposed to be for my shoulder, but I’m hoping they will stop the pounding in my head.
After Ellis goes back up the elevator, Ari studies me. “How are you feeling—really?”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
“Good, because I got a call from Dr. Kate. I’m supposed to let her know when you are ready for our next mission.”
“I’m ready now,” I say, texting Kate and telling her myself.
“Now that that’s settled,” Ari says, “Terrance has the photos from the locket printed up. We have double-checked your passports and want to go over that with you to see what you remember.” I nod, indicating he should continue. “You and your mom went through immigration control in Montrovia as Charlotte and Calliope Cassleberry on May thirteenth and arrived back in DC on May twenty-eighth. So, we have a fifteen-day window.”
“Wait. You said before that those passports didn’t show any travel during that time frame.”
“In our earlier passport search, it didn’t come up,” Terrance explains, “but we found note of it in a very scant but deeply classified CIA file we hacked into. We assume they hid where she had been because they were investigating the time before her murder. Based on the rest of the file, they never discovered the reason for the hit.”
“But they didn’t have the locket. We do,” Ari states. “Do you feel up to looking at them?”
Although I want to figure this all out, I don’t want to remember. I know it will hurt way worse than my physical injuries. “Before we do that, Ari,” I say, stalling, “have you heard anything about a board of director’s meeting for Von Allister Industries?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s in a couple of weeks in London, and it happens to be the day before the British Grand Prix. Even though I plan to be in town for the race, I wasn’t going to go to the meeting. We received a proxy to sign, giving the chairman of the board the ability to vote our shares.”
“I think maybe we should go. Apparently, Mike Burnes, who tried to recruit me himself, talked to Daniel. Told him that certain military contracts are expiring, and the government wants an extension. I’m under the impression that Burnes is worried the board won’t approve the request.”
“How could we help with that?” Ari asks, looking confused.
“We own the company because we own the majority of the stock. No one can outvote us, just like they couldn’t outvote our father.”
“I was told Ares had sold the company before he passed. I’m sure that’s what the attorney said.”
Terrance swivels around to face his computer and types. “Nope, he simply liquidated a lot of shares. He used to own eighty percent, but he didn’t give up majority. He—well, you two still control the majority at fifty-one-point-nine percent.”
We’re interrupted by the sounds of all three of our phones buzzing simultaneously with the same message.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
Discover what Kelley Bond learned before she was assassinated, infiltrate Marquis Dupree’s organization, and continue to protect the Montrovian crown.
I raise my hand in the air with a grin. “I volunteer to continue to protect the Montrovian crown.”
Ari and Terrance both roll their eyes at me, but I know it’s my ticket out of here.
I stuff the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth and stand up. “And I should probably get to the castle immediately.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Ari says. “We’ve been working hard. Lorenzo pretty much threatened us with treason if we didn’t wait until you were recovered to catch you up on everything.”
“There’s more than just the pictures?”
“Yes,” Terrance says. “We worked with The, um … Henri and The Bartender guy in an attempt to track the deposit they had been paid for the three hits. It was a dead end, but we’re hoping to track the next wire transfer live.”
“You already told me that after the car bomb in London,” I sass.
“Fine. I’m trying to distract you.” Ari takes my hand, helps me out of my seat, and leads me over to the wall with the photos. “We need you to look at this. I’ll be right here with you.”
I take a deep breath as Ari pulls a picture off the wall and hands it to me.
“This is you with the dog in Ares Von Allister’s lab.”
“Caliper.”
“Try to remember the rest,” he says softly.
I close my eyes, and somehow, with my brother tightly holding my hand, I manage to relax. “There were a lot of people working in the office, the labs full of men in white coats, huddled around stainless steel tables. There was classical music playing—Beethoven, I think. I was sitting on the floor by the dog. My dad was wearing a navy suit and complained about the dog’s shedding, but he was petting her anyway. My mom was dressed in a striped blazer, collared shirt, and jeans. Also, I think this is the day we left for Montrovia. She’s wearing what she always wore on flights. Her hair was up and recently dyed a dark chestnut color. The dog licked her face, and she laughed. She left me and Dad in the lobby with the dog while she had a meeting. Her meeting didn’t last that long, and when she came out, she was carrying a file and seemed irritated.”
Ari squeezes my hand, causing me to open my eyes.
“I wonder what was in the file,” Terrance says.
“I would assume the stuff on the disk,” I reply. “I’m not sure why, but I think we went directly to the airport from the Von Allister lab.”
“Where did you go when you got to Montrovia?” Ari fires the question at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“When we got on the plane, she told me we were going on an adventure, that it was probably a wild goose chase, but that it would be fun. Like a treasure hunt.”
“Okay,” Terrance says with a sigh, handing me another photo. In this one, I’m standing in front of a sign that says, No Photographs. “Do you know where this is?”
“It’s the jewelry display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London,” I say. “I remember taking the sign as a bit of a challenge. I took a photo just to see if I could get away with it.”
“What was the picture of?”
“I don’t recall. It was more about the thrill of doing it.”
“The morning the bomb went off, Terrance and I managed to hack into the museum’s security tape recordings,” Ari says. “We had hoped to see what your mom looked at there, but the tapes didn’t go back far enough.”
“So, that’s another dead end,” Terrance huffs. “Let’s try this one. You are in front of what appears to be an old building, but because it’s a close-up of you, we haven’t been able to identify it.”
“It’s the Galleria Borghese in Rome,” I state. “My favorite museum in the world. Of course, that might be because they made me study every work in it for my art history class.”
“You studied just that museum? Why?” Ari wonders.
“I suppose because it’s famous. Some of the greatest sculptures ever created are housed there. And the stories of what went on back when they were created would now be called reality TV. Affairs, jealousy, corruption, and lots of conspicuous consumption and flaunting of wealth and privilege.”
“What I think your brother is getting at is, you’re like Wikipedia when it comes to some of this stuff,” Terrance states. “The things you studied at Blackwood all seem to have been purposeful. Like, did you study American history? Or geology?”
“No, we didn’t have the time for a full curriculum like what I suppose you had. We learned art, history, and classic literature. Chemistry and other sciences were taught only for practical reasons, like building different weapons using household products. Math was taught in order to do calculations relating to time, like how to count distance if you were kidnapped or how to figure the last moment you could pop a parachute and survive.”
“I just find it interesting. Why that museum?” Ari studies the photos on the wall. “What if they were trying to get you to remember through your lessons?”
“Because they didn’t know where my mom had been. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”
“Okay, whatever.” Ari starts pacing again. “Huntley, based only on your vast knowledge of this particular museum, can you think of any reason you were there that relates to this case?”
“No. And it’s weird because you would think, if you were investigating Ares Von Allister, you would go to Florence where the Medici family ruled during roughly the same time period as the Borghese family did in Rome. The Medici family was powerful and provided the church with four popes. It was from that bloodline that Lorenzo the Magnificent was sent to Montrovia. And according to Malcolm Prescott, our father was obsessed with all of that. Malcolm Prescott even has a book that once belonged to Ares about the Medici family and their echelon—or upper level of society.”
“There are no photos of Florence,” Ari says, handing me another photo.
“This photo. Was it on the locket?”
“Yes,” Terrance says.
“But’s the same one that was in the safety deposit box in Zurich, which means—”
“She had the pictures developed and left a trail for someone just in case. That means she knew she was in danger,” Ari finishes. “At least at the end.”
A scene pops into my head.
I’m in a small, windowless room at Blackwood Academy. A room I’d grown to hate in the short time I had been here. It was always the same drill. I’m asked for what seemed like the millionth time where my mom and I had been before she died—make that, before she was shot in front of me.
Blackwood Academy is nice enough, and I liked my classes because they kept me busy. I just wished they would have lasted all night, so I wouldn’t have had to relive her death every time I went to sleep.
My counselor, the man who was supposed to help me deal with my grief, entered the room. He looked perpetually stressed, and I had a feeling I was the cause of his stress. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to start in. But he didn’t. Instead, he asked if I had ever been to Rome. Maybe he’d finally gotten the hint that I didn’t want to talk about the stupid vacation. And no amount of talking was ever going to change the fact that I had failed my mother. I should have gone out there with her. I should have killed the assassin. I should have saved her.
“Yes, many times. My parents were sent there for work often.”
“And what did you see at the Galleria Borghese?”
“I’ve never been there,” I replied, working hard to keep my breath even when I wanted to scream out loud.
“You’re lying! Tell me the truth!” He wagged a photo in front of my face. “This is you standing in front of it. What did you see when you were there?”
“Art, I would assume,” I replied in a smart-ass tone.
“Which art specifically?”
“I don’t remember,” I said as tears filled my eyes. I knew I had been there, but I didn’t want to remember. I can’t. I won’t.
“I’m sick of your lies.”
“And I’m sick of you asking the same stupid questions,” I fired back.
The man jumped out of his chair with a menacing look in his eye, and came after me.
I reacted in a way that seemed second nature now—by punching him in the throat.
“Did you just remember something?” Ari asks, closely watching me.
“Sort of,” I admit. “At Blackwood, I was sent to therapy sessions, which basically involved a doctor questioning me in different ways about where my mother and I had been on our trip. On our last visit, he showed me the photo from the museum in Rome. My mother must have given it to someone or left it at our house.”
“What did you tell him?” Ari asks.
“Nothing.” I roll my eyes and let out a sigh. “I frustrated him. When I told him I didn’t remember being there, he got mad and came at me. I reacted by punching him in the throat. I guess Blackwood gave up because, after that, I never saw him again.”
Terrance hands me another photo. I’m standing in front of the placard of a bank in Zurich. “There’s this one. But you’ve already been there.”
“Blackwood must have known, after Montrovia, you traveled with the Huntley Bond passport, but anywhere you went in Europe that didn’t require customs wouldn’t have been noted. Without these photos or your memories, they’d have had no way of figuring out what your mom discovered.”
“We can assume our first stop was to Ares Von Allister’s lab. That indicates that she was either working for him or investigating him,” I reason.
“What if it had nothing to do with your trip?” Terrance questions. “What if she was there to introduce you to your biological dad?”
“Because she knew she might not survive this mission?”
“The mission that wasn’t a mission.”
“Maybe. Look, guys, this has been loads of fun, but I have a date with Lorenzo tonight, and I need to get ready. Besides, this is like a tangled ball of yarn; once you undo one knot, somehow, you’ve managed to create another.”
Lorenzo and Lady Elizabeth Palomar meet in a private suite at the Royal Casino, each of them breathless from having to sneak separately to the hotel’s seventh floor.
Lorenzo takes Lizzie’s hand as she enters the room, kissing it with affection. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “Did you have any luck with Huntley?”
“She agreed to formally court me.” Lorenzo grins.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Lizzie lets out a sigh of relief. “What did your mother say?”
“I have yet to tell her. We are keeping the news to ourselves for a short time. She’s still recovering from the injuries she sustained in the car bombing, and she doesn’t need the media pressure our announcement will entail.”
“I read she was experiencing dizzy spells due to carrying your heir. Is it true? Is that why you don’t want to announce it straightaway?”
“It is not. She was suffering from a concussion. She hit her head when the bomb went off.”
“I’m not sure it’s enough,” Lizzie says, walking to the window and looking longingly out to the harbor, almost like she’s planning to escape.
“What do you mean?”
“Our parents have signed the agreement. We are legally bound now.”
Lorenzo’s stomach drops. Or maybe it’s his heart. Although Lizzie is a dear friend and he initially agreed to marry her if he hadn’t taken a bride by the time he was twenty-six, he never imagined his father would move up the time line or that he would fall helplessly in love with someone else.
“How do you feel about that?” he asks, walking to the window to offer some comfort.
“I wept. Then, I was angry. Then, I thought I must be crazy. What woman in her right mind would turn down the opportunity to be queen? I made a list in my head of all the positives. And there were many. The jewels, the power, the wealth. The only downside to the arrangement is that I am not in love with you.
“But, in the end, I decided, if it was meant to be my destiny, I would fulfill the agreement. We’ve known each other since childhood. You are my friend and I love you. I feel a duty to both my family and our country. I understand the importance of heirs, but I feel, if there were passionate love for each other in us, we would have explored that facet of our friendship by now.”
Lorenzo raises his eyebrow at her and smiles. “You know I had a crush on you when we were young, but you liked older boys.”
“And look at where that got me.” She laughs. “I’m twenty-three and single—practically a disgrace to my family.”
“I want to marry for reasons of love and passion,” Lorenzo agrees, thinking of waking every morning with Huntley in his arms. What would he do if he was forced to marry someone he did not love? Would he abdicate his crown to be with her? Would he be willing to let his royal bloodline die?
“So do I,” Lizzie says, bringing him back to the present, “but the reality is, you are facing a ticking clock. Our wedding date is set for December seventeenth—just six months’ time.” Lorenzo rubs his hand across his face, trying to control his stress level, as she continues, “I was planning a trip out of town, and my father forbade me.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to go to the Olympic Swim Trials.”
A smile spreads across Lorenzo’s face as the realization of what she’s not saying hits him. “To see Daniel?”
“It’s a very recent development,” Lizzie replies, blushing slightly. “We danced at the Queen’s Ball and became friends. With the tabloids pitting you and Daniel against each other for Huntley’s affection, it means we’ve been able to see each other occasionally without notice. It’s one thing for you to be seen in the company of other women. It’s expected. Completely chauvinistic double standard, if you ask me, but I am not supposed to have dalliances before I am announced as your future queen. Enzo, I’m told an announcement is imminent. Don’t wait too long to talk to your mother, or there might be no turning back for us.”
“Are you saying you would go through with it?”
“I think it would be a great injustice to our country if you did not continue to rule. But, as you know, the sole purpose of the arrangement is to continue the Vallenta bloodline. The contract states that I’m to produce a minimum of three heirs. Once I fulfill that duty, my requirements ease—a minimum time spent in the country, fewer public appearances, and the ability to take on a lover or even divorce. Of course, there are financial arrangements in place for all possible outcomes, but the most important is that our children are to be raised in Montrovia.”
“All that is spelled out in the marriage contract?”
“Yes, and trust me, I’ve read all one hundred thirty-eight pages.”
Lorenzo wraps his arms around Lizzie, pulling her into an embrace. “I am deeply touched that you would even consider going through with this. You are a strong, independent, and beautiful woman. Montrovia would be lucky to call you its queen.”
“And what about you, Lorenzo?”
“I would be lucky as well.”
“That settles it. If Huntley doesn’t agree to marry you within the allotted time frame, I will.” She laughs. “Unless you can use your power to change the law your father set forth.”
“Unfortunately, I doubt Parliament would allow it. They believe an heir is the key to our country’s stability.”
“Here,” Terrance says, taking a bottle of whiskey out of his desk drawer and pouring me a stiff drink. “Ellis brought us down some reinforcements last night.”
I take a small sip, appreciating the gesture but doubting its effectiveness. I was planning to slip away by saying I needed to get ready, but Ari hands me the photo that was in the safety deposit box in Zurich and looks expectantly at me.
“When my mother took that photo, she told me she hoped I would always remember my visit to the Palacio de la Vallenta.”
“Any idea why?”
“Because we had fun, I assume. I remember running around outside, playing in that spot, but I don’t know where it is. When we got to Montrovia, literally the first thing I did was buy a ticket to tour the castle. I know you thought it was because I wanted to meet Lorenzo, but maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the prince and more to do with my brain wanting to go because I had been there before.”
“You were at the castle when the gunfire broke out. Wouldn’t you have remembered something then?”
“Yeah, but nothing Lorenzo showed me is included in the public tour and, more importantly, I didn’t see this wall. Not then, not at the Queen’s Garden Party, and not at the Queen’s Ball.”
“Okay, so maybe we should move on from that,” Terrance says. “Let’s talk about the stamp on Kelley and Huntley Bond’s passports when they arrived in Baghdad on May seventeenth.”
“Baghdad?” I ask as a memory flashes in my head—of us going through customs.
“Tell anyone who asks here that your name is Lee,” Mom told me just before we got off the plane. “Let’s pretend we’re on a secret treasure hunt and don’t want anyone to know, so we’re using false identities.”
“That sounds so exciting,” I replied. “Do you think we will find some treasure?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I’m hoping we’ll at least find some answers.”
“I remember, when we landed, she told me that, if anyone asked, my name was Lee. It wasn’t that odd of an request since that was what she always called me.”
Ari shows me a photo of a girl wearing an abaya with a hijab, standing near what looks like the TerraSphere in a desert location. There must have been a strong breeze that day because the headscarf is coming undone, revealing my smiling face.
“Bet you can’t catch me,” the girl said, running ahead.
We just met but became fast friends. Her hair was blonde, like mine. Well, like mine used to be. Mom dyed it a dark brown before we came here.
I easily caught her even though she is two years older than me.
“I’m sick of the sand,” she said, plopping down into it and running it through her hands. “I miss home.”
“Where is home?” I asked.
“Denmark. It’s the most beautiful place in the world. But my mother died, and my dad brought us here for his job.”
“What does he do?” I drew a tic-tac-toe board in the sand and put an O in one of the spaces to start a game.
“He’s a scientist and sort of like a superhero. He fights germs with the vaccines he makes. Only he works underground, and I can’t go see him during the day because it’s too dangerous.”
“So, you just play in the sand?”
“I wish. I have to go to school. I only got to take the day off since my dad wanted me to babysit you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I scoffed.
Then, I see my mother’s eyes.
“It’s just not coming back to me,” I say.
“Why are you crying?” Ari asks.
I touch my face, feeling cool tears. “Because, with every picture you show me, I can hear her voice and see a few fleeting scenes, but as soon as I try to recall the details, I see my mother—our mother—getting shot. It’s awful, Ari,” I say, now sobbing. “It’s why I couldn’t kill The Priest. It’s why I took his son. It’s why I didn’t kill him, even when he tried to blow us all up. I couldn’t do that to Chauncey. Blackwood Academy failed. I’m not the hardened killer they wanted me to be.”
Ari wraps me in a hug and pats my back. “What you did to rescue Enzo and me was nothing short of spectacular.”
“It’s what makes you special,” Terrance adds, handing me a tissue. “You have a conscience.”
“And I’m in love with Lorenzo.”
“Now, that we all know,” Ari teases. “I know it’s hard, but we’re not done with the photos. Try to remember this time without closing your eyes.”
I nod in response, so he takes my hand again, giving it a squeeze. “After you left Baghdad on the nineteenth, you must have flown to Orlando because your passport is stamped there on May twentieth. In this photo, you’re standing next to a silly-looking alligator.”
“That’s the crocodile from Peter Pan. I’m at Disney World. There was a flower festival, and Peter was on top of a building in London. I ate fish and chips.” I pause. “We’d been somewhere first though. Mom told me, if I didn’t complain about the drive, she’d take me to Disney.” I pause, thinking. “Terrance, pull up the conspiracy theories that were on the locket. No, wait, it was in Clarice’s journal. She mentioned that Viktor had donated to the Terra Project in Florida. And we looked it up when the word terra came up in the chatter. I think maybe we were there. But what do any of those places have to do with Ares? We couldn’t find any ties from the Terra Project to his TerraSphere. Wait, I remember a man. Living in the swamp. He had a beard. He showed us his garden.”
“This man?” Terrance asks, whipping his computer in front of me.
“Jules Raphael,” I say without thinking.
Ari studies my face and smiles. “You just remembered that on your own. The next picture is from the Coke museum in Atlanta. Do you remember going there?”
“Yes, we flew to Atlanta. I remember Mom telling me it was one of the busiest airports. But we drove somewhere out in the middle of nowhere and saw this thing that looked like Stonehenge.”
“The Georgia Guidestones?” Terrance asks. “It’s near Atlanta, and it is in the conspiracy theory papers on the disk.”
“Maybe,” I answer. “The next day, we went to the Coke museum. Mom met a friend there. They talked the whole time we were on the tour. I thought it was annoying.”
“Do you remember anything that was said?”
“They were talking about food—no, wait, they were talking about seeds. Seeds in a bank, which made me laugh because you’re supposed to put money in banks, not seeds.”
Terrance rushes over to a pile of papers. “This was also on the disk. The World Seed Vault. It’s on an island off Norway near the Arctic. Conspiracy theorists say it’s really a doomsday vault. A way to replenish the earth after a nuclear Armageddon.”
“Does that mean someone’s going to take control of Montrovia, cause a nuclear Armageddon, and then start over with Montrovia in control of whatever’s left?” I shake my head. “I mean, really, I like the new Atlanta football stadium theory—where it will open up like a Transformer to reveal a weapon of mass destruction and save us when the aliens attack—better than that.”
Ari laughs. Terrance doesn’t. He nods like he agrees.
“Here’s what I suggest,” Ari says. “You go get ready for your date. Tomorrow, we’ll go see what’s in the Montrovian safety deposit box.”
“And go on the castle tour,” Terrance adds, placing two tickets in my hand. “Hopefully, being there in person will help you remember, like it did at the lab.”
“And then we leave for Rome,” Ari says. “Enzo and I have our first Society meeting there, which means you can visit the museum.”
“What about Marquis Dupree? Our mission is to deal with him.”
“The search for a way to get to him is taking place over at our secret headquarters,” Terrance says.
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you about the safe house here?”
“Yeah.”
“Some friends are there, working together. It’s a motley, multinational crew. Let’s see, we have Intrepid from Britain, Josh from America, an admiral from Montrovia, an Israeli spy, the assassin known as The Priest, the old hacker known as The Bartender, and of course, we can’t forget Olivia the Plague.”
I can’t help but smile and feel happy that I’m not doing this completely on my own. But the words both the dean and The Priest told me keep playing through my head.
Trust no one.
And I wonder if I should heed their warnings.
Going through the tunnels to see Lorenzo feels very clandestine and gives me a rush. I feel like I’m in an old spy movie, racing across Russian enemy lines to be with the man I fell in love with. Today has been an emotionally trying day, and I’m so ready to just collapse in his arms and soak in the love he radiates. He’s like the calm port in my stormy life.
I’ve barely breached the war room before his lips meet mine in a passionate kiss.
“I could get used to being greeted like this,” I murmur against his neck.
“I’ve missed you desperately,” he says, kissing me again. Only after what sounds like a determined sigh does he pull his lips from mine. “You look devastatingly beautiful.”
He takes in the sinful dress I chose to wear for dinner this evening. Even though I love that he wants to wait, that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him.
“Thank you.” I push my fingers through his hair. “Your face is stressed. Was your day difficult?”
“Lately, every day feels difficult, but tonight, we are putting the world behind us, for I have a surprise for you.”
“The truffles?”
“The setting. Come with me.”
He holds out his hand. I curtsy before taking it, causing him to grin. He leads me down the hall, up two flights of stairs, and then out a set of worn French doors to a curved stone balcony overlooking the sea.
“The view is so beautiful,” I gush. “And we’re standing on the balcony of a real castle turret. I feel like I’m living in the fairy tales of my youth. Maybe you should go to the bottom and ask me to let down my hair.”
“I’m thrilled you like it, but we haven’t reached our destination yet, my sweet,” he says, pointing to an iron staircase. “Although I admit, it might be a treacherous climb, as the stairs were not created with your delicate-heeled shoes in mind.”
“I don’t think that’s going to stop me,” I say, looking up toward the top of the turret.
The stairs spiral around the outside of the turret, meaning our journey takes a while.
“It’d be easier if we just repelled back down,” I tease.
“Do you have a rope under your dress?” Lorenzo asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind as we get to the top.
The steps were a little dangerous and only wide enough to walk up them in single file.
“No, but I do have a high-tenacity wire in my handbag that will hold us both for a quick ride down,” I say, turning around to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Along with my lipstick, of course. You never know when you’re going to need to make a quick getaway—whether from a lecherous date or a trained assassin.”
“Good to know you are prepared,” he teases.
He leans me back into a sweeping kiss that gives me a brief feeling of falling. Falling in love most likely, although I suppose we could have tumbled to our death if he had stumbled.
After our kiss, he leads me into the room at the top of the turret where a dinner table is set for two with the finest of china, gold flatware, and heavy crystal. There is a single ornate chandelier hanging above it, and candles glowing in hurricanes line the circular room.
“How are they ever going to get our food up here?”
He grins at me and points to a modern elevator in the back of the room.
“Ah! Why didn’t we take that?”
“Because I thought you, of all people, would appreciate the adventure of doing it the old-fashioned way. This turret helped mark the entrance to the Port of Cap de Playa Antilles. The men of Montrovia have a long history as skilled boatmen and maritime merchants, which means they were often at sea. Legend says, women used to climb the stairs, even in the wind and pouring rain, to wait or pray for their loved ones’ safe passage. If they were lucky enough to spot their ship arriving, they would rush to the docks to reunite. Very romantic.”
“And very stressful,” I say with a smirk. “Nowadays, I could just put a GPS tracker on your boat and watch your travels on my phone from the comfort of my bedroom.”
He kisses me. “You are teasing me, I think.”
“It is quite the romantic gesture. And incredibly beautiful up here. I imagine the view to be as delightful in the daytime.”
“I have a mission for you,” he says, sweeping me into his arms again.
“You do?” I ask as I envision what it must have felt like to sit here in this cold, dark turret, doing nothing but watching the ocean, waiting for your love to return, each hour and day that passed causing you more worry than the day before as you wondered if he would make it home.
“In four days’ time,” Lorenzo says, “we will meet with my mother to inform her of our courtship. More than likely, she will want to very quickly announce it to the world. I suspect we’ll have to do a photo shoot, possibly a few interviews, and, um, maybe a little press conference.”
“Okay,” I agree, still thinking about the heartbreak and despair the sailor’s wife would feel. “This is a very romantic location, but it holds sorrow, too—with the dark sea seeming to rise nearly to the moon.”
Lorenzo kisses my neck in response and then takes my hand as we circle the room.
This view on the other side of the turret is quite different. Lights fill the Montrovian capital, a combination of boats in the busy harbor and homes dotting the hillside. Such a contrast to the solitary feel of the ocean.
“I’ve been to a lot of places in the world,” I say, “but there’s something about Montrovia. With its rich history, dazzlingly sea and countryside, it’s a special place that you get to call home.”
“I’ve decided to restore this room in your honor. I want Montrovia to be your safe place against the sea.”
“It feels like home already, although I suspect it has more to do with you than the view.”
“When will you receive your next mission?” he asks, looking worried.
“I got it today actually.”
“And what were you charged with doing?” After I repeat my orders, he says, “No matter what, I need you to be here on Sunday to meet with my mother. I will make an appointment with her assistant but not divulge the itinerary. It will be a lovely surprise.”
“Does it have to be Sunday?”
“Yes, because, on Tuesday, if you have not agreed to a courtship, she will move forward with announcing my betrothal to Lizzie.”
“If you were smart, you’d marry Lizzie,” I say even though that’s the last thing I want him to do.
“I have no desire to marry a woman I do not love. But, if we are to move forward in our relationship, I do need to ask you a few important questions.”
The elevator opens, causing Lorenzo to stop speaking. He leads me to the table, pulling out my chair. We are seated side by side, offering us both ocean and harbor views.
A wine steward serves us champagne and the chef presents our first course, then they retreat down the elevator, giving us time to enjoy the meal alone.
“First, we must toast,” Lorenzo says. “To us and to a love worth waiting for.” After we touch glasses, he continues, “Although this is a topic all couples discuss as their relationships progress, due to my being royalty, it takes on a different kind of importance.”
“Just say it, Lorenzo. What do you want to know?”
“Do you desire children?” he blurts out.
“I have always been fascinated with children, although I don’t know for sure if I have ever been one myself.”
“You and Chauncey have a special closeness,” he counters.
“He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever met. And those big blue eyes. How do you ever say no to him?” I chuckle. “I’d adopt him tomorrow if I could. But answering your question is complicated because I was trained not to want such things. Whoever created Black X knew about me and who I really was, but I think maybe Ari was a surprise to them. Something they hadn’t planned for.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because, if they knew that I’d eventually be teamed up with my brother, they would have trained me very differently—to work with a partner rather than to completely rely on myself.”
“So, how did they find out he was your brother?”
“I have a theory. Well, I’ve had numerous theories running through my mind today, but only one seems plausible. Six months ago, shortly after your uncle’s death, they started working me harder, probably preparing me for my upcoming insertion back into society. They would have checked and double-checked my legend for any and all possible holes. It would have to survive scrutiny from places like the CIA and your own agencies. I think that’s when they discovered Ari’s birth certificate along with mine.
“Up until then, all of my training was aimed toward me as an individual working alone. But then they suddenly and unusually started pairing us up. They put me with Josh specifically rather than my friend, who I would have preferred. We were tasked with conducting mission simulations as a team. And I’ll be honest, I wasn’t very good at it. I was taken into the dean’s office more than once over it.
“Also around that time, they sent Ari to train with the CIA. No one does that at his age. Then, I think they screwed up. Ares died, and a lawyer contacted Ari because he’s listed in the will for real. But then Black X made it Ari’s ‘mission’ to work with me, pretending to be siblings. For some reason, at that point, they didn’t want us to know that we were really twins.”
“Speaking of twins, we must return to our original conversation. Do they run in your family? When we marry, producing heirs will be a necessity. I don’t want to pressure you, but if our relationship is going to be blessed by my mother, she’ll want to know you understand that.”
“Lorenzo, if we don’t figure out what’s going to start in Montrovia, there might be nothing left for your heirs.”
“So, your plan is to discover the plot, stop it from happening, and then retire here, with me?”
The elevator dings, giving me a moment to contemplate what I’m about to say. Can I make a commitment to come home to him when I know I might not?
Our first course is taken away, and the delicate truffle pasta takes its place along with a complementary wine.
Once the staff has retreated, I say, “Yes, but on the flip side, I want you to consider the fact that you could be in this turret for a long time, waiting for someone who might never return.”
“Because she succumbed to the sea?”
“Something like that.”
He lowers his head, looking solemn, as he pulls a small package out of his jacket pocket and sets it on the table in front of me. “I’m willing to risk my heart for you, Lee. Please, open it.”
I undo the ribbon and lift the lid, finding an etched gold heart hanging from a delicate chain.
“May I?” he asks, taking the necklace and wrapping it around my neck.
“What does it say? I was unable to make out the etching in the soft glow of the candlelight.”
“It is a love poem, written by me and engraved in my hand.”
“Which poem?”
He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. I can see where they drew the heart and the words they copied onto the necklace in fragmented pieces.
“This poem is one that I composed just for you.”
“As in you wrote me a poem—like, from scratch?”
He nods his head and recites,
“Glimmering waters beckon,
Cliffs come into view.
The ocean kisses the shoreline,
As I dream of you.”
“That’s beautiful, Lorenzo.” I’m overcome with emotion and wonder how he put into words the essence that is this beautiful turret. “They are the most wonderful words I have ever heard. I love you.”
“As I love you,” he replies with a kiss. He gives me a wicked grin. “It also has a GPS tracker in it, so while this turret will always be our special place, I will be able to know where you are when you’re not by my side. But I suspect I will still be here, pacing and praying for your safe return.”