Page 10 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"Of course, Lorenzo. We were on your yacht."
"And you were the first woman to ever step foot on it," he adds.
"Besides your mother," I correct, teasing.
He cradles my face in his hands. "Insomuch as love grows in you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul. You are the beauty of my soul, Lee. I love you."
My heart swells with joy at the same time my stomach drops. He shouldn't love me. And I can't say it back. It wouldn't be fair to him. Lorenzo makes me wish I were a normal girl. The kind of girl who would be thrilled to hear his words of love. I consider saying something like thank you, but I figure that would be dumb, so I just gaze into his eyes, hoping it's enough. Hoping he sees through my hardened exterior and knows, somehow, that I feel the same. And that I wish I could tell him.
After a moment, he breaks eye contact, picking up the other package and setting it on my lap. I quickly tear open the wrapping to find the beautiful chess set from his study with its inlaid marble chessboard and intricately carved but worn wooden pieces.
"I can't accept this, Lorenzo. It must be quite old."
"It's been in my family since the sixteenth century and is passed to the eldest son on his sixteenth birthday. But I must give it to you, for every time I look at it, I recall the desire in your eyes. Desire I'd like to fulfill in the future. I hope that you will continue this tradition, by passing this on to your son on his sixteenth birthday. And if I'm lucky enough that your child is also my son, that will mean I have lived a truly blessed life."
I throw myself into his arms, giving him a tight hug. Then we lie down on the bed, holding hands and staring at the balloons floating in the air above us until we fall asleep.
MISSION:DAY TWO
The sun shines in through the curtains, reflecting off the balloons and giving the room a colorful glow. I wake up feeling like I'm in the midst of a rainbow. The effect is even more stunning than the night before. Or maybe it's the afterglow of sleeping in Lorenzo's arms all night.
"Good morning, my sweet," he murmurs in my ear, causing me to melt.
I know, eventually, the helium will fade, all the balloons will drop to the ground, and he'll be left picking up the pieces--just like he will in our relationship. Part of me wants to confront him about his impending engagement, but I don't want to ruin this moment.
"Good morning, Your Highness," I say with a little giggle.
"I have to admit, this is a surprise," he says. "Waking up in bed with a beautiful woman, fully clothed, and being happy about it."
I lean down and give him a kiss. "You're very cute."
"Cute? I have been called handsome, rakish, debonair, suave, sophisticated, and even dapper. But I don't think I have ever been called cute."
"Well, I think you are. What are your plans for the day?"
He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I plan to spend the day with you. Let's have breakfast here, in your suite. We are due downstairs around ten thirty for pre-departure drinks."
I glance at the clock, and seeing it's already eight, I pop out of bed. "Why don't you order breakfast while I shower?"
"Sounds like a plan. Although we could conserve water by showering together," he says sexily.
My breath catches, stopping me in my tracks. I don't want to turn him down. I don't want to stop his advances. There's nothing I would like more than to say yes.
"Um," I end up saying.
He takes my hand in his. "I understand," he says. "We will wait for such exquisite pleasures."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. Because I have to. I'm afraid, if I open my mouth again, I will beg him to join me. And I'm already in deep with him emotionally; if I let it get physical, I will never be able to finish my mission. Because I won't want to leave him.
Instead, I race into the bathroom and turn on the water, locking the door behind me--to lock myself in more than to keep him out.
I quickly strip off my clothes and get into the shower, allowing the steamy water to rush over my body. I close my eyes and think about my next mission as I wash my hair. I must stay focused on that.
While I thought that going after The Priest would be my most dangerous mission, I realize I was wrong. The stakes will just continue to get higher as I work my way up the chain of deceit.
In school, they taught us to think critically. To dissect plots on the fly. We must identify the players, figure out what they want to accomplish, why they want it. Understanding the motivation behind a plot can help you make assumptions in a case. The problem is, so far, we don't know anything, except that it starts in Montrovia. What bothers me is that I feel Black X knows more than they are sharing with us. Our missions are simply leading us along some predetermined path. And, somehow, that path is related to my mother's death.
I'd thought, when I found The Priest, I would get some answers. But he knew nothing; he was just a hired gun. If it's true that former president John Hillford Senior himself ordered the hit on my mother, the question is, why? What did she know? Was she investigating the president? Maybe that's where I need to look. It could be the key to unraveling everything.
"The key. The lockbox key for the Royal Montrovian Bank," I say out loud.
Could something in it point me in the right direction? Although, based on what was in the vault in Switzerland, I highly doubt it. Mom would never have knowingly put me in danger.
I pause, sucking in a deep breath, as realization hits me.
Actually, that's not true. We traveled together for her "work" all the time. I was probably always in some kind of danger.
My mind flits back to a time when we were in Casablanca. We had been strolling through the city and were on the grounds of the Cathedrale du Sacre Coeur. My dad was supposed to "meet a friend" there, and while we waited, my mom was telling me about how the castle was built in the 1930s, making it new compared to the city itself, which dated back to the tenth century BC. My dad got a call on his phone, and his eyes got big. He and Mom shared a panicked look. I could sense something was wrong, and when we abruptly split up, I got scared.
"Where is Daddy going?" I asked in French since that was the language we were speaking on this trip.
She tightly grabbed my hand, practically dragging me through the grounds and then down a curved street, toward an art school.
"I don't have time to explain. We have to hurry, Lee," she also said in French, trying to keep her voice sounding calm but it came out with a shrill.
When we got inside the school, we rushed upstairs, down a long, narrow hall, and then back down a different set of stairs.
She stopped briefly at the door, holding me back with one arm, while she surveyed the alley.
"We're going to have to split up," she said, pointing. "Run straight that way to the Boulevard Hassan I, take a left, and then another left onto Boulevard Moulay Youssef. Go to the US Consulate. Tell them your name and that you and your mom got split up. I will meet you there. You will need to speak in English even though we've been speaking French on this trip. Okay?"
"Okay, Mom." I heard a car screech to a stop somewhere nearby.
"Go, Lee!" she said. "And, no matter what you hear, don't turn around."
But I did turn around. After I was safely behind the corner of a building, I stopped and peeked my head out, seeing two men in suits hopping out of a dark sedan, both brandishing weapons. And I instinctively knew, I'd better follow my mother's directions exactly if I ever wanted to see her again.
I walked to the Consulate like I knew exactly where I was going. Because I did. Mom always made me get to know the local area whenever we arrived in a new city.
And, when I got there, I calmly told them my mother's name and that we'd gotten separated.
The soldier at the door was kind, took me inside, and hit a few keys on a computer. Whatever he saw caused his eyes to perceptibly widen. Then he said, "Come with me."
I followed him to an elevator where he instructed me to wait. The elevator doors parted, rev
ealing a tall man in a different type of uniform. This one, all black.
He pulled me into the elevator with him and placed his palm on a screen. Instead of the elevator going upward, as expected, I could feel us descending.
When the doors opened, a large space was spread out in front of us. It looked like something out of a war movie with huge flat-paneled screens showing diagrams and charts and live video feeds.
"What is all that?" I asked.
"It's a normal part of all Consulates," he told me. "It just allows us to monitor news and other information going on in the country. Our job is to keep our citizens who are traveling here safe. Now, tell me where you were when you lost your mom."
He led me into the room and pulled up a map on the computer. I showed him the art school and where we had been before. I didn't tell him about the armed men since I wasn't supposed to see that.
He nodded to someone standing next to him and then led me to a kitchen where he got me a snack.
"Stay here and eat. And don't worry; we'll find your mom."
But it wasn't until the next morning when we were all reunited. My dad walked with a limp that he shrugged off as an old football injury, saying that it had gotten irritated when sightseeing through the old streets. But my mom was banged up, like she'd been in a car accident. Her right cheek was bruised, and the eye above it was swollen nearly shut. There were six stitches on her neck, and her arm was in a sling. She told me that she'd gotten mugged, but I know better than that now.
I dry off, wrap myself up in a plush hunter-green bathrobe with a Prescott Manor monogram, and comb my hair. There's a knock at the door, so I rush out of the bathroom to answer it, suddenly feeling starved.
I notice that Lorenzo has changed out of his suit and into a matching robe. He's sitting at the table, reading the morning paper, and his hair is wet. He must have gone back to his room and showered already.
"I'll get it," I tell him when I see him start to rise.
When I open the door, I'm surprised to find Daniel with a large tray of food.
"Your breakfast is served, Miss Von Allister," he says with a devilish look in his eye. "I don't know what all you ordered, but it looks like enough for two. Thought I would join you."
He doesn't give me a chance to reply before he walks in past me and toward the table. But then he stops midway upon seeing Lorenzo in my room. And I know how it looks.
"I'll just drop this here," he says, his voice turning cold, as he sets it on the table. "You two have a great morning." Then he turns on his heel and walks back out of the room.
I follow him. "Daniel," I say, catching him in the hall, "it's not how it looks."
"What makes you think I care how it looks? And what's with all the balloons?"
