Page 15 of The Eagle (Spy Girl 2)
"His sending you on the boat and not going with you was a mistake on his part."
"Juan, I'm not sure I could handle the pressures of being a princess, let alone be the queen of your country."
"And I'm thinking you most certainly could. You're unflappable, smart, and quick on your feet. Because of you, we're all alive."
"Is it just me, or does the King's security team seem a little, um, old?"
"I suggested that he offer his father's guards nice retirement packages and recruit his own men. He declined."
"Maybe after today, you should remind him of that."
He smiles. "Maybe you should be the one to tell him."
I nod in agreement. "I think I will."
Lorenzo is in the study taking calls from reporters. I sit down in one of the chairs not already occupied by his staff.
When he finishes the call, his personal secretary says, "CNN wants you in studio tonight to talk about the events of today, the other attempts on your life, and your new role as King."
His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. "Tell them I have plans for this evening."
"What about first thing in the morning?" she counters.
"Tomorrow is the funeral for the President," he reminds her.
She looks frustrated. "Very well then."
"I'm done for the day," Lorenzo states, then he walks over, takes my hand, and pulls me out of my seat. "We aren't going to let this ruin our evening. And we're going out alone." He addresses his staff. "I want you all to take the night off. Go enjoy the city."
Although they protest, they don't put up a fight. Soon we're in the study alone.
I shut the doors and fix Lorenzo a drink.
"Can I talk to you about today? Not only as someone who cares for you, but also to give you my professional opinion?"
"Certainly."
"You need a new security detail. The men who guarded your father are out of shape, slow to react, and not up to date with current threats in the world. They should have constant training, not rest on their laurels. You should promote Juan and let him recruit the best of the best from the Montrovian Special Forces. Guarding you may be an honor, but it's more than that."
He sets his drink down and slips his arm around my waist. "Or I could marry you."
"If I marry you, I will lose my abilities, as well. Something I'm not prepared to do."
"What if I hired you as my very personal body guard?" he asks, his eyes smoldering. "A man of my position would most definitely require constant care. Particularly at night, in my bed."
"You are not taking me seriously."
"Oh, but that is where you are wrong. I would take having you in my bed extremely seriously."
"I mean about your guard."
"I'm glad you are worried about my safety, and you are probably right. I'll talk to Juan about it tomorrow, and he can start the process." He kisses me, sending shivers down to my toes. "Back to you in my bed."
"I thought you wanted me in your limo so we could take in the monuments at night?"
He narrows his eyes at me.
"I want you in my limo, alright."
"Lorenzo!" I screech.
"But, Huntley, my dear, I am very serious about it. You may have to fight me off."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Challenge accepted."
"Merda," he mutters. "How am I ever supposed to have my way with you when you so easily can fend off my advances?"
"If I want things to advance, I am certainly capable of letting you know."
"And how will you do that?" he asks with a smirk. "Can you give me details?"
"Go get in the limo before you get yourself in trouble." I laugh.
MISSION:DAY FOUR
Although Daniel texted me late last night and asked me to attend the funeral with him, it was vetoed by his family this morning, who said that a solemn occasion such as this should not be made a media spectacle like what happened with the swearing in photo.
And I guess I can respect that.
It made it easier for me, since Lorenzo also requested that I accompany him. Ari could have come with us but decided there was no need.
"The man's dead, there's nothing further we can do for him," he says callously as Lorenzo and I are leaving. His words make Lorenzo flinch, but I suspect his harshness comes more from his personal losses than from a lack of respect.
When we arrive at the National Cathedral, a media spectacle is already taking place. Thousands are lined up on the streets waving American flags along the hearse's route to the funeral. Reporters from every station--from local to international--seem to be present. And although there is no red carpet, there might as well be with all the recognizable faces. Republicans, Democrats, world leaders, former Presidents, political dignitaries, and celebrities, all dressed in black, come together to mourn for our nation.
And although I am here to do the same, I have another job. I want to scan the crowd looking for someone who seems out of place. Someone whose calculating eyes betray their feelings. Someone who isn't sad, but rather who may have benefited from the President's death.
But the only person I can see who has directly benefited is Daniel's father, and he is visibly upset, particularly when the flag-draped casket is carried down the aisle by a military honor guard and placed at the front of the church.
When the funeral is over the casket is taken out of the church, followed by the former President's family.
Lorenzo leans over and whispers to me, "The casket and family will be taken on Air Force One to President Hillford's home state of Massachusetts, where he will be buried on the grounds of what will be his Presidential Library."
I expect to be let out of the church row by row, but once the family and casket, along with the current President and his family--including Daniel who looked devilishly handsome in a dark suit and who gave me a wink as he walked by--are out of the church, everyone gets up and mingles. People are being comforted by one and other. Hugs, greetings from people who haven't seen each other in "ages," and even an occasional peel of laughter--the sounds of the living fill the air.
While Lorenzo is making his rounds, I stand by his side looking pretty and using the time to survey the crowd. I haven't spotted anyone rubbing their hands together like the evil men on cartoons, happy their nefarious plan has come together--if only it were that easy.
"Huntley, I'd like you to meet Malcolm Prescott, Peter's father," Lorenzo says, introducing me to a distinguished looking man wearing a very expensive Italian suit.
"It's a joy to finally meet you," he says. "Peter has told me much about you. What an interesting story you have. Is your brother here with you? Ares and I were quite close. I never knew he had children." He studies my face then smiles at me. "But it's obvious you are his daughter. You have his eyes."
"How did you know each other?" I ask.
"We were friends back when we all thought we were at the top of our game, having each earned our first million before we were twenty-five." He smiles a sad smile. "Except for the man we laid to rest here today. He simply turned twenty and received a large trust fund. But it was that trust fund that gave the three of us, who had nothing to speak of, the seed money for the businesses we went on to create."
"So you, President Hillford, and my father were friends?"
"Yes, along with Aleksandr Nikolaevich. I believe you met his son, Viktor, in Montrovia." He smiles at me. "Your father was obsessed with racing, not to mention all sorts of other fun gadgets. Through him we were invited by Ferrari to attend the Montrovian Grand Prix." He turns toward Lorenzo. "Which is whe
re we met your father when he was still the prince." He gives Lorenzo a little slap on the back. "And from what I've heard, you are a chip off the old block. Your father was quite the ladies' man."
Lorenzo almost chokes. "Really?"
"Yes, but as men eventually do, he settled down. Except for Ares," he says to me. "He told us he would never let a woman tie him down. How did you come to find out you are his children?"
"Apparently a woman never did tie him down, because Ares was never in our lives. An attorney contacted us both. Quite frankly, I didn't really believe it. I thought I was being punked. I was half expecting someone to jump out from behind a door, laugh at me, and send me on my way with a toaster oven for being a good sport."
"What evidence did they show you that changed your mind?"
"My brother," I say with a smile. "When we were introduced, it was"--I make myself tear up--"overwhelming, I guess." I fan my face in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. "And one look at him and I knew it was true. And it's cool, because neither of us have any family."
"Your father's estate holds a large amount of my company's stock, and I still am heavily invested in Von Allister Industries. That sort of makes us like family." He pats my back in comfort. "My wife is famous for her social gatherings. As a matter of fact, we're having a soiree at our home in London starting on Sunday with festivities before the Cartier Queen's Cup, and then throughout the week before and after the Royal Ascot. Peter and his new friend--what is her name?"
"Allie."
"Ah, yes. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I am afraid I can't keep track of my son's women. Peter and Allie are already in London, and we would love for the three of you to join us."
"I was planning on attending both events," Lorenzo says. "We'd love to."
"It was very nice to meet you, Huntley," he says.
"You, as well. Maybe in London you could tell me more about Ares? His life sounds, um, rather complicated, the last years of his life. It would be nice to know what he was like before that."
"I will look forward to it." He shakes Lorenzo's hand and kisses my cheeks.
"He's really nice," I say to Lorenzo after he walks away. "Reminds me of Peter. Easy to get to know but without the pompous ass factor."
"I suppose it's because he didn't grow up with wealth as Peter has. He had to work for it." Lorenzo glances at his watch. "I need to say hello to the Prince of Denmark, then we can make our departure. I'm due back for a conference call with the Prime Minister shortly."
