Page 19 of The Phoenix (Spy Girl 6)
“No. If she doesn’t announce it, then I will. I’m going to tell the world that I’m marrying her.”
“You’ll look like a fool, Daniel. Especially when she denies it.”
“She won’t do that,” he huffs.
“Yes, she will. Maybe you should call her.”
He marches off to his room.
Five minutes later, he comes back in and dramatically throws himself across my bed. “You suck.”
“I did what I had to do. For all of us.”
His mouth pulls up into a smile, revealing both dimples. “Can I watch the video before you destroy it?” I playfully smack him upside the head as he grabs me and pulls me on the bed with him. “At least my plan worked.”
“It was the dumbest plan ever, but you’re right. And I’m really glad you’re happy, Daniel. I feel bad for Lizzie. The queen has been pushing her really hard. Interviews, photo shoots—anything to up her social media status in the world.” I let out a laugh. “Ohmigosh. I forgot to tell you! At the Olympic Village, guess what I saw! Teacups with her face on them!”
He laughs along with me, then rolls over and props his head up on a pile of pillows. “You know what this means now. You’re going to have to wear my lucky shirt every day.”
“It would make my wardrobe planning easy, I guess. You should know, I’m wearing a red dress to the Royal Olympic Ball.”
“My favorite color.” He lets out a sigh. “I suppose we’re going to have to dance with each other all night? Pretend to be in love still?”
“I think that would be expected.”
“Oh, maybe I should wear a fully sequined stars-and-stripes tuxedo. Maybe a matching top hat.”
“If you do, we’re definitely not dancing together,” I joke.
“I wish I were going to Ari’s wedding with you. I feel bad I can’t come, but it’s the freaking Olympics. Why couldn’t he wait a couple of weeks? Is Allie knocked up or something?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, you’re the one who mentioned talk of a coup. Maybe we’re all in danger here in Montrovia.”
“If something like that happens, all bets are off. I’m grabbing Lizzie, and we’re getting the heck out of here on Air Force One.”
“Nice. Forget all about me,” I tease before turning serious. “Hopefully, Lorenzo can stop it. Or figure out if it’s even really a threat.”
“Huntley, if my dad is worried, we should be worried, too.”
“Yet you’re all still here.”
“That’s because it’s the freaking Olympics!” he says again, this time with a laugh.
“I know. And I promise to be back in time for the opening ceremonies.” I kiss his cheek, get off the bed, and then grin back at him. “And I won’t be wearing that ratty shirt.”
As I’m getting in the car to go to the airport, my phone rings.
“Your jet or mine?” Lorenzo asks.
“I thought you were hosting the stag party tonight?”
“I most definitely am, but with the wedding festivities tomorrow, it makes more sense for me to fly there than fly everyone here and back.”
“Definitely mine then. Can we come pick you up, somewhere discreet? I don’t think the press needs to be aware of our travel plans.”
“I have a few staff with me.”
“Bring Juan. That’s all you’ll need.”
“That means you must stay very close to me,” he says sexily. “I’ll need protection.”
“You’re incorrigible. Meet me at the house down by the dock in ten minutes.”
I let Ellis know to make a U-turn, and as he does, a store sign catches my attention.
“Stop the car!” I yell out.
Ellis screeches to a halt. I have to admit that I’m impressed by his quick reaction.
“Why?” he asks.
“I need to run in a store,” I say, hopping out of the car before he can question me further.
I walk back half a block, coming to stand in front of the store called Punk Rocker. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to remember.
When nothing comes, I open my eyes and go inside, where I’m immediately greeted by an older woman with purple hair, a nose ring, and numerous beautifully colored tattoos.
“Whatcha need, honey?” she says, smacking her gum as she speaks.
“Do you have any Cure T-shirts?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes and studies me. “You a punk rock girl under your ritzy exterior?”
“My father loves their music,” I say with a shrug.
“Well, cheers to him.” She doesn’t move from her spot, just points to the middle of the store.
I make my way to it, passing a lot of black clothing—studded jackets, leather jeans, graphic and band T-shirts, and a full collection of accessories. My attention is quickly distracted by a cute metal-spiked bracelet set on a thick leather band. I pick it up and try it on. While I’m deciding if I should buy it, a memory comes rushing back.
I was trying on a bracelet with glittering rhinestones. My mom was holding a T-shirt in her hand.
“I’ve never heard of The Cure,” I told her.
“My best guy friend in high school loved this band,” she replied, a smile lighting up her face.
“Why did he like them?”
“’Cause it’s The Cure,” she muttered. “Something no one should want.”
“Like, in our lives?” I asked, not understanding if she was talking about the band or something else.
“In all our lives,” she replied. “That is why I need to meet with someone this afternoon without you. I’ll find a place close by where you can keep an eye on me though.”
“Okay,” I said. “Are you buying the shirt?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I definitely am.”
“That’s a badass bracelet, isn’t it?” the saleswoman says, approaching me. “And the spikes match the ones on the designer heels you’re wearing.”
“They do. I think I definitely need it.”
She takes the bracelet from my hand and leads me to the cashier’s desk. “You’re that girl who was dating the prince, right? The one who inherited a bunch of money and has that hot brother?”
“Yes, I’m Huntley Von Allister.” I hold my hand out to shake h
ers. “It’s nice to meet you. You have a bit of a British accent. Have you been here long?”
“Born and raised in Wales. Followed a man—well, a band—to Montrovia and loved it so much that I decided to stay. Worked as a waitress for nearly twenty years. Went to the casino seven years ago on my fortieth birthday and hit the jackpot on a slot machine. Won twenty-seven million dollars, bought a house, and opened this store.”
“That’s amazing. I remember coming here with my mother about six years ago. You must have been newly opened.”
“I was. So, did you buy anything when you were here?”
“My mom bought a band T-shirt. The Cure. She passed away not long after that, so when I was driving by and recognized the store, I just had to stop.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she says. “And, for the record, I think Lorenzo should be marrying you. He doesn’t look at her the way he looked at you. What’s the real story on all that?”
“What happened with you and the guy in the band?”
She nods in understanding and grins. “Young love doesn’t always work out, right? The real world interferes.”
“It sure does,” I agree.
I pay for the bracelet and wear it out of the store, her comment about the real world on my mind. I’m suddenly feeling thankful to be leaving Montrovia. At least, when Lorenzo is with me, I know I can keep him safe. Once the Olympics starts, all bets are off, so I might as well enjoy every minute of whatever time we might have left.
I hop in the car, and Ellis drives down to the docks to pick up our passengers.
When Lorenzo gets in, he greets me with a delicious kiss on the lips, and I’m very thankful the windows are tinted.
“Your brother will meet us at the airport shortly,” he says. “I have yet to tell him of our plans for today other than that.”
“And what are the details?” I ask.
Juan gives me a smirk. “A night filled with debauchery, of course.”
“Of course,” I sigh, my raised spirits quickly diminished as I imagine Lorenzo partying with other women. I scoot away from him, pretending to make more room for Juan.
