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A few moments later, the family is hugging each other in the entryway, and I'm introduced to Daniel's grandparents, Joseph Spear and his wife, Judith. After some small talk, we're seated in the dining room as dinner is ready to be served.

  I'm next to Daniel on one side of the table, opposite his grandparents, and his mother and father are sitting at the heads of the table. I'm making polite conversation but am mostly just enthralled watching them interact. They seem very close, and I come to learn that while Daniel shares his mother's temperament, he owes his form and bright blue eyes to his father and grandfather. I know I'd sure as hell vote for either of the elder Spears. It's fun to see all three generations lined up, matching eyes, similar height and build, but with varying shades of hair color. Daniel's is dark, making the contrast of his eyes more distinct. His father's is a salt and pepper mix, and his grandfather's completely grey. Each stage of life equally attractive in different ways. While his grandfather seems more refined, his father seems to love the challenge of the game--another trait passed on to his son.

  His mother exudes a strong confidence. She's smart, straightforward, and affable. I could see the political arena feeling like bullshit to her. I also suspect trust is extremely important to her. She's nice to me but slightly aloof. Or maybe that's just a natural reaction to all the girls who come and go from Daniel's life. She knows I won't last, so why bother getting to know me.

  Grandma, on the other hand, loves me. Apparently, she follows the tabloids and knows of my relationship with Lorenzo, probably more reason why Daniel's mother doesn't care for me, and keeps me engaged in conversation.

  A few moments after our soup dishes are removed and our main course placed in front of us, a phone vibrates.

  "It's the First Lady," Dr. Spear says. "I need to take this." She steps into the hallway, speaks in hushed tones, then comes back in the room looking solemn. "The President passed away a few minutes ago. I gave her our sincere condolences."

  She no more than gets the words out of her mouth when the Vice President's phone starts ringing. He answers, says he understands, and hangs up.

  "I will be sworn in as President," he says numbly. "Shouldn't I get a few moments to mourn?"

  "Are you required to have an official swearing in and an inaugural party?" Daniel asks. "All that pomp and circumstance would seem disrespectful considering the circumstances."

  "No, that's only for elected Presidents. We have to put our grief aside for a few moments. Our country can't be without a leader." He smiles at his dad. "And how lucky I am to have my father, a judge, here to be able to do it for me."

  Grandpa nods, his eyes filled with pride. "It would be my honor."

  Very quickly the dining room is filled with the Vice President's staff. "Sir--"

  "We've already been informed on the President's passing," Daniel's dad says. "Amanda just spoke to the First Lady."

  "We need to get you sworn in immediately, sir."

  "We'll need a Bible," Grandpa says.

  "Let's all go into the study," Daniel's mother suggests.

  Once in the study, Daniel's father scans a bookshelf. "I have multiple Bibles, but this one seems most appropriate."

  Grandma gets tears in her eyes when he shows it to her. "That was the Bible my father gave to you when you became Governor. It's been in our family for generations."

  We gather around and watch as the Honorable Joseph Spear places the Bible in his palm and holds it in front of his son. Acting Vice President Ryan Spear raises his right hand and places his left hand on the Bible.

  "Repeat after me," the judge says. "I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God."

  After repeating the words, he shakes his head. "I have always dreamed of becoming President, but not in this way. Let's have a moment of silence for Jack."

  The new President of the United States is given hugs by his family, and I'm feeling both proud to be an American and lucky to have been able to witness this piece of history for myself.

  "You'll need to address the nation," his advisor states. "After that, I'll share a photo of the swearing in with the media."

  "You arrange for a press conference, while we finish our meal," he replies. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

  After dessert, I bid the family goodnight.

  "I'm sorry our dinner was interrupted," President Spear says. "It was very nice to meet you."

  "It was a pleasure to meet your family, as well. My condolences for your loss--and, I guess, congratulations."

  The President nods his head solemnly, and Daniel walks me to my car.

  "I can't believe that just happened," he says, pulling me into his arms. "It's almost surreal."

  "I know. You are now the First Son."

  "Which means even more Secret Service to deal with."

  "But I bet the White House has a bigger pool."

  He grins. "You're right. They do. It was built by Gerald Ford, who swam laps most every day."

  "See, there you go."

  "Do you have to leave?"

  "We have house guests, remember?"

  "Oh, trust me, I haven't forgotten that Lorenzo is sleeping across the hall from you. Just make sure it stays that way," he says, lowering his mouth to mine in a possessive kiss.

  "I really have to go," I tell him, pulling my lips away and sliding in the car.

  When I arrive back at the mansion, the butler informs me that Ari is out for the evening and that Lorenzo is in the theater room.

  I slip my heels off and head that way, only to find Juan and Lorenzo both sound asleep, an action movie playing loudly in the background. I don't blame them.

  They had been awake for almost twenty-four hours.

  I quietly slip out of the room and am soon in my own bed.

  MISSION:DAY TWO

  Even though I was exhausted and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow, my internal clock is messed up and I find myself wide awake at four in the morning.

  I patter down the stairs, make a cup of coffee, and on my way back hear the sounds of a television coming from Lorenzo's room across the hall.

  I go back downstairs, make another cup of coffee, return to the hall, and then gently knock on his door.

  He answers wearing just a pair of pajama bottoms. Although his physique isn't as bulky as Daniel's, it's equally impressive.

  I bite my lip. "Heard the television, thought you might want some coffee."

  "Thank you. Would you like to come in?"

  I walk into his room, set a cup of coffee on his nightstand, and climb onto his bed.

  "Last night you were on the sidelines of history."

  "Yeah, that was kind of crazy. We were sitting there eating dinner when they got the call. And within minutes we were in the study watching him being sworn in."

  He turns his computer, showing me a photo of the swearing in. I'm standing next to Daniel looking very patriotic in my outfit choice.

  "That photo of President Spear being sworn in will be in every history book printed from this day forward. With you in it."

  "I wonder what the history books will say when they find out that Huntley Von Allister was not who she said she was, but rather a covert agent and trained assassin."

  "And you have the Montrovian rumor mills buzzing again, Contessa." He flips to a Montrovian tabloid that's contemplating my relationship with Lorenzo. "They don't know what to think of you. First, you are photographed at the gala in Washington with Daniel, then spend a week being photographed with me."

  "Are they calling me the orphan slut now?"

  He laughs. "On the contrary, they are calling you a very lucky girl."

  "I suppose. Two incredibly handsome men, vying for my heart. Which would be great if that were true."

  "You don't think Daniel and I are vying for your heart?"

  "I think Daniel's only conce
rn is for my body."

  "He does not fancy you other than in his bed?"

  I shrug. "He's very hot and cold. One minute he wants me to meet his parents and support him at the Olympics, the next he's telling me he likes no strings relationships because he can't be distracted during his training."

  "That is the problem with American men. They are afraid to clearly state their intentions."

  "Does the Playboy Prince usually state his intentions to the women he beds?" I roll my eyes.

  "Actually, I do," he says, his heated gaze trailing down my body, which I realize now is very scantily clad in only a skimpy silk robe. "Would you like me to state my intentions toward you more clearly than I already have?"

  "Um . . ."

  He leans closer to me and says in his dreamy accent, "I desire you, Huntley, and am fully committed in my pursuit."

  I grab the computer off his lap and click back to the article about President Spear's swearing in. Anything to change the subject. "I look sad in the picture."

  "You do, as is appropriate in that situation."

  "It was hard. You could feel his family's pride. Imagine your dad being sworn in as President." I glance at him and laugh. "Okay, so you probably don't have to imagine something like that. Anyway, there was the pride, but also the sorrow of losing their family friend. I suppose that's how you felt during your coronation. A lot of mixed emotions."

  "That's exactly how I felt."

  "So what did you do last night? What are your plans for today?"

  "Ari and I had dinner. He went out after, and Juan and I watched a movie. Well, part of it. I fell asleep. I have a staff meeting this morning then a visit to the Embassy. There is a formal event at the Embassy this week. Would you be willing to accompany me?"

  "I'd love to." I set my coffee on his nightstand. "I'm sleepy, but I can't sleep."

  He holds his arm out, so I can snuggle up to him. The gesture causes my heart to do a little flip.

  I should leave.

  All my instincts and training are yelling at me to leave.

  But I don't want to.

  So I lie down next to him and enjoy the feel of his arms wrapped around me and his lips pressed against my temple. When I turn to face him, he kisses me. It's a slow, tentative kiss. Like he's dipping his toes in a pool to determine its temperature. When I run my hand through the back of his hair, he must decide it's warm and dives in, his tongue tangling with mine.

  Our kissing quickly becomes heated, his hand sliding under my robe.

  "Um?"

  He stops kissing me, but his hand continues to caress my bare skin.

  "Is my show of affection making you uncomfortable?"

  "No, I just--"

  "Do you wish I halt my advances?"

  "Yes . . . no . . . maybe."

  "Which is it, my sweet?"

  My body, which had tensed, relaxes when he calls me that. I want to just sigh with happiness. What would I do if I weren't a spy? Probably allow myself to fall head over heels in love with him only to get heartbroken. Regardless of how dreamy he is, his reputation is for loving and leaving them.

  Which makes me wonder why I don't just love him?

  Not like fall for him, I mean experience him, sexually.

  His hand glides down my arm. "You are not so uptight. You like words of love?"

  But I can't do that, either. It was only a few days ago when I was last with Daniel. Even though sex is supposed to be only about pleasure, it doesn't feel right. I start to rise. "I think I better go back to my room."

  "Don't go, Huntley," he says, holding his hands up in defeat. "I enjoy the pleasure of your company. Do you not wish to have a physical relationship with me?"

  "I have a purely physical relationship with Daniel. It suits my lifestyle."

  "And you aren't interested in a purely physical relationship with me?"

  "I could never have a purely physical relationship with you, Lorenzo. The only reason I slept with Daniel on the yacht is because I thought we were over."

  "So are we to start anew? Am I--as you Americans say it--back on first base with you?"

  I laugh but feel like crying. I reach out and touch his handsome face then shake my head. "I can't have a physical relationship with you, because it would be my undoing."

  "You already have me completely undone. I long to experience more with you. Every kiss is precious and exquisite," he says, his thumb tracing the line of my collarbone then moving to caress my face. When his knuckles graze my lips, I squeeze his hand and press my lips against it, enjoying the tenderness of the moment.

  Then I jump off the bed, tears in my eyes. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

  I run to my room, flop across my bed, and allow myself to dream of a different life.

  Then I shake my head to clear my silly thoughts and get in the shower.

  I'm just getting dressed for the day when I get a text from Terrance. Just a single dot. Like maybe it was a butt-text. But then I run into the closet, grab my handbag, and pull out the phone he gave me.

  I have seven missed calls from him over the last few days. I hadn't bothered to check it while I was on vacation.

  I quickly choose his number--the only number--from the speed dial list.

  "Sorry I missed your calls."

  "We need to talk," he says. "About the thing you gave me. There's a bar in the Hay-Adams hotel called Off the Record. I'll be at a table by the fireplace. I was going to tell you to dress in a suit and blend in, but after last night, that's not possible. You might as well wear something outrageously sexy. Sit next to me on the couch, your back against the wall. Bring a big enough purse that I can put something into it. Then we'll have lunch and flirt."

  "Okay. What time?"

  "I'm already here."

  A quick Google search tells me the hotel is directly across from the White House and often filled with congressional leaders. Upon arrival, I'm directed downstairs. Terrance was right, most everyone I've seen so far is wearing a suit.

  I chose a grey spaghetti strap dress with a swingy skirt in a slinky jersey fabric. The front of the dress is a crossover style, and there is a small triangular cutout at the waist that adds to the sex appeal. On the hanger was a little card that suggested for daytime I pair it with the Valentino Rockstud butterfly-embroidered tie-dye tote and the multi-color trim, wedge-heel Louboutins.

  So I did.

  When I pulled the pieces out of the closet, I didn't think it all matched, but I have to admit, it looks good together. And I may be slightly obsessed with how cute this tote is.

  I spot Terrance in his seat by the fireplace and quickly scan the room for potential threats and possible exits. Then I stop myself. I can assume that Terrance wouldn't be here if he didn't feel it were safe, and I shouldn't look calculating as I walk through the room. I am Huntley Von Allister, new billionaire heiress, who has not a care in the world other than how to spend her money. I'm making my way through the lunch crowd when I hear my name and turn to see Senator Bill Callan waving at me from the bar.

  I walk over to greet him.

  "Huntley, my dear, how are you?"

  "I'm well. Did you and Sissy have a pleasant time in the Caymans?"

  "It was enjoyable, but I'm afraid we cut our trip short and came home when the President was shot."

  "It's just horrible," I say. "I can't believe this happened in our great country."

  "Me either. I was actually going to try to reach you today. Are you and Aristotle staying at your late father's home here in D.C.?"

  "Yes, we are."

  "I'd like to invite you to a dinner party my wife and I are having in Georgetown tonight. Are you and your brother free?"

  I try to think of a way out of it. I can only imagine how boring one of his weeknight parties would be. Although, he's a senator, and the more contacts we make, the better for our cover, right? "Yes, I believe we are."

  "Perfect. I will have Sissy messenger the invitation to your home." He turns to the man seated next t
o him, who I instantly recognize from my studies. "Where are my manners? Huntley, I'd like to introduce you to the Director of the CIA, Mike Burnes."

  I put on a big smile and try not to look nervous. "Wow. I guess the write-ups about this bar were correct. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Burnes."

  "Mike will be at the dinner party this evening. I sincerely hope you can join us. You and your brother were delightful dinner companions."

  "Thank you. We'll see you then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be meeting someone."

  They say goodbye, and I work my way through to the back of the room where Terrance is waiting.

  When he stands to greet me, I kiss his cheek and whisper, "Did you see who I just spoke to?"

  "I did. If anyone asks, we met at the Montrovian Royal Casino," he whispers back.

  "It's so good to see you again," I say, knowing that we have to be careful.

  "So, Huntley, remember that vintage bag you wanted me to track down for you when I told you I was an internet whiz?"

  "Um, yes." I go along with his ruse, knowing he's talking about the locket not some stupid bag. "Did you have any luck?"

  "I did."

  A waiter interrupts him and asks for our drink order. I pause for a second. I'm not of legal drinking age, but Huntley Von Allister is and she would order something.

  "What do you think I'd like?" I ask the waiter flirtatiously.

  He doesn't miss a beat. "I'd go with the pear martini."

  I smile and give a little clap. "Oh, that sounds yummy."

  "Would you like a sugared rim?"

  "Of course," I reply, even though I know the drink is just a prop and I won't take more than a few sips.

  "And for you, sir?" he asks Terrance.

  Terrance raises an eyebrow in my direction. "You buying?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  "Then I'll have the JW Blue Label," he says. "And we'll share the macaroni and cheese fritters and the salted caramel creme brulee to start." While he's ordering, he discreetly slides an envelope into my handbag then switches to sit across from me. "So I can stare into those gorgeous eyes of yours," he says, before the waiter leaves. Terrance looks quite dapper here, dressed in a navy suit, white spread collar, and a traditional red tie.

  "Rumor has it the man can read lips," Terrance says. "So I'll talk and you say random things in reply to make it look like we're having fun. And keep an eye on him. Don't let him sneak up on me."