Page 6 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"That, too," I say, leaning in to kiss him.
I wrap my arms around his neck and sigh into his mouth, wondering why I should even care about any of this. My mom is dead, and no matter how much sleuthing and killing I do, nothing will bring her back.
When we finally stop kissing, he says, "If you think I'm the target of the third hit, it is imperative for you to stay very close to me."
"Just how close are we talking?" I ask as his hand trails up my thigh.
He gives me a devilish grin. "Inseparable. What do you say we take a drive in the countryside and skip the rest of the festivities?"
I can't help but smile at him. "I think that sounds completely wonderful."
After a relaxing drive, where we stopped on the side of the road numerous times to get out and take photos, we arrive at Prescott Manor. We're shown to opulent suites across the hall from each other and told cocktails will be served on the terrace in an hour with dinner to follow. A maid follows me into my room, unpacking my clothes and steaming the wrinkles out of them, while I freshen up.
I choose a pretty pink-and-black gown, the tag stating that it is a silk Marchesa. It features a plunging V-neckline, a bodice made of black Chantilly lace, and a tiered skirt with silk roses. I put it on and study my reflection in the full-length mirror, loving the way I look in this dress. Then I grab the beautiful pair of Oscar de la Renta embroidered-illusion pumps I'm supposed to pair with it. I take a seat on the divan at the end of the bed and am slipping them on when there's a knock at my door.
"Come in," I say, standing up.
Lorenzo walks into the room, looking particularly delicious in a white shirt and dinner jacket paired with a black bowtie and slacks.
"Lee," he says, admiring me, "that dress is sublime. I fear many men will be vying for your attention."
I nervously laugh and feel my cheeks flush. "Thank you."
"Shall we?" he says, holding out his elbow.
We've been on the terrace for all of about fifteen minutes, and I already feel like I've stepped onto the set of a soap opera. Peter, who is supposed to be with Allie, is flirting with Miss Tennis, who is actually here as Daniel's date. Ari is hitting on Allie, who is openly encouraging him because Peter is ignoring her. Lizzie is talking seriously with Daniel when he's not teasing me. And then there's Lorenzo, sweet Lorenzo, who seems to only have eyes for me.
I take in my surroundings, trying to get my bearings in Prescott Manor. But it's huge. Twenty-seven bedrooms. Six hundred acres of land with formal gardens so elaborate that they remind me of the Palace of Versailles, its own golf course, stables, and plenty of wooded grounds for hunting. It's no wonder Peter acts the way he does. How could you not be both sheltered and privileged when you grew up in a place like this?
I belly up to the bar next to him when he goes to retrieve more champagne for Miss Tennis.
"Did you grow up here, Peter?" I ask him.
He hands me a flute and softly clinks his glass to mine in a silent toast. "I grew up in boarding school. This is one of our summer homes."
"One of them?"
"Yes, we have multiple real estate holdings across the world, but this is one of my favorites." He leans in and whispers, "Last summer, when my parents were vacationing in the Antibes for a month, I had one of the company jets bring over a group of my school chums. Ask Daniel. Women. Booze. We even did a club one night. Brought in an international DJ we'd met in Ibiza and nearly brought the roof down. It was the best party ever."
"Sounds like it." I look around at the couture-clad men and women demurely sipping champagne in the great hall, trying to picture what Peter described.
"In fact," he says as he starts to walk back to Miss Tennis, "my mother was just telling me about their next vacation, so we're doing it again. Expect an invite."
I glance over at Lorenzo, who is talking polo with the Danish prince. He flashes me a grin, so I head in his direction, only to be stopped halfway there by Daniel.
He grabs my left hand and studies it. "Are you and Lorenzo engaged?"
"Engaged? Where did you ever get such an idea? The tabloids?"
"No, from Lizzie. We danced at the Queen's Ball after you turned me down. Anyway, we've stayed in touch. She told me that Lorenzo must marry before his next birthday, which is less than a year away."
"Lorenzo did tell me that."
"Did he also tell you that he has a deadline?"
"For getting married? Yeah, before his next birthday."
"No, for getting engaged. Royal weddings take time to plan. And his deadline for being engaged is quickly approaching."
"Hmm. That, I didn't know."
I now understand why Lorenzo has been talking about marriage so much. He's under pressure to take a bride.
"I bet you also didn't know that if he isn't engaged to a woman of his own choosing, he will have to marry Lizzie. Their parents have an agreement."
I can't hide my shock. "Does Lorenzo know that?"
Daniel rolls his eyes at me. "Of course he does." He gives me a smirk. "Seems Prince Charming hasn't been forthcoming. I'd say he was just sowing his wild oats with you before he settled down with Lizzie, but I believe you when you say you haven't slept with him yet."
"I never said that," I bark back.
"Still," he replies, raising his eyebrows at me and then walking away.
For a few moments, I stay rooted in my spot. The realization of what Daniel revealed comes crashing down. I want to run from the room, flop on my bed, and cry.
Instead, I text Ari.
Me: Hey, where are you?
Ari: Right behind you.
I turn around to find him standing there. I was so distracted by the thought of Lorenzo marrying someone else that I didn't hear him sneak up on me. I'm losing my edge.
"Let's check out the garden," I tell him, grabbing his arm and leading him to a somewhat private area.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Maybe I'm just not dealing with all this so well. How are you doing it?" I ask, lying, but I don't want to talk to him about Lorenzo marrying someone else. It makes me feel sick.
"I am happy to discover that you're my sister. Are you upset about it?"
"I'm upset about all of it. The way we are being manipulated and lied to. I think you might be right about Black X trying to brainwash me, Ari. They told me over and over that, if I wanted to be the best, I couldn't have any emotional attachments. Then they spring a brother on me? How am I supposed to work with you? You're not expendable anymore. And then there's Lorenzo. He's ignoring my advice about trying to stay safe. What if he's the target of the third hit?"
"Then you won't have to worry about him marrying Lizzie," he says.
I put my head down and try not to cry. "How do you know about that? And how do you know that's why I'm so upset?"
"Daniel told me. And because I know you can deal with the rest. Are you in love with Lorenzo?"
"I can't be, Ari. We barely know each other," I say, trying to rationalize my feelings away.
"But?"
"I feel like I am in love. The thought of him marrying someone else makes me feel sick to my stomach. But then I worry that I'm just desperate for love. You have no idea what it was like, being sent to Blackwood after my mother died. I had no one. And the one guy who my parents always told me would take care of me if something happened dumped me there and only came back to see me once."
"Huntley, you have me now," he says, patting my arm. "We have each other."
"But I don't want you to be my brother. You're my partner. I don't know how to function like this. I'm not supposed to care. But I do. And it's messing with my head. How can I be depended on to make important life and death decisions when I didn't even notice you'd snuck up behind me? I'm unraveling."
"No, you're not. You're in a safe environment, and you let your guard down for a minute."
"Which I should never do! We could literally be standing in the lion's den right now, Ari. We just don't know it yet beca
use the lion hasn't shown himself."
"I think you're wrong about that," he says, taking in the lush setting. "And I think you should talk to Lorenzo about his situation. It's so obvious that he's in love with you."
He goes back to the party.
I take a seat on a nearby bench, needing a moment to catch my breath.
But I don't get one because Peter's father, Malcolm Prescott, sits down next to me.
"I'm glad you could join us," he says.
"Your estate is incredible. You must love it here."
"It is one of my favorite homes. Are you all right? You look distressed."
I am very much so, but I can't tell him that. Anyone in their right mind would think I'd be a fool for not wanting to be with a man like Lorenzo. So I lie. "Today is my birthday. I'm just taking a few moments to reflect."
