Page 56 of Lone Spy

Omar's laugh is rich and somewhat irresistible. He's not an iceberg. "I've been trying to reach you for days. I'd really like to see you again, Angela."

My throat tightens. I've had plenty of time to prepare for this question and yet I have no answer. "That's hard, Omar. I mean, I'm traveling for another week and then I have other projects lined up. I'm not…easy."

"I'm not interested in easy. I'm interested in you." Well, when you put it like that… "It's my understanding you have another week of the European tour and then a break before the Pacific leg begins."

"Have you been readingUS Weekly?"

Omar laughs. "I don't know where Rashid gets his information but I trust him implicitly."

"I see." The engines start up, vibrating the room.

"Meet me in Scotland—join me at Balmoral Castle at the invitation of the the Duke and Duchess of Balmoral.” There is a smile in his voice. “Benjamin and Victoria would love to see you again.”

Temperance and Rebecca said this invite would come from the princess. Omar did something they apparently didn't expect. "I don't know," I say.

"The security is very tight," Omar promises. "And, of course, you'd be welcome to bring your own team."

A tinny voice comes through unseen speakers. "This is your captain…"

"I have to go," I say. "My flight is about to take off."

"Just think about it, please."

"You sound good when you beg," I admit.

Omar laughs again, and it sends tingles over my skin. I do like him.Would it be so bad to share information… Ash's question floats through my mind.

Ash, who never laughs. Ash, who looks at me with pain in his eyes. Ash, who I want to shove as much as kiss. Ash, infuriating and yet somehow safe. Ash, who I need to get out of my head.

"I will think about it," I promise.

ChapterTwenty-Three

I do thinkabout Omar's offer. I think about it at the premiere in Berlin, through the days of press. Every time another bouquet of flowers arrives from him. When Ash's hand brushes my hip in a crowded elevator to move me behind him.

I think about it when I'm on the phone with my attorney and my financial advisor. Most of my assets are owned by corporations that I, in turn, own. Even my houses in Malibu and LA are owned by my LLC. “That doesn’t mean they are safe,” Tamara Delgado, my lawyer, says. “Right now is the time to secure your situation.”

“What do you recommend?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral. I’m pretending we are not talking about something unthinkable and yet historically so much more likely than the freedoms I’ve known my whole life. But my rights are relatively new—women didn’t have access to credit in the United States until the seventies. That’s only fifty years. Less than a lifetime. It took a century of fighting to get to where we are, and the Grand administration is rolling it back in a matter of years.

“We can place your stocks, bonds, and a big chunk of cash in a trust that we establish offshore,” Tamara says. “The Cayman Islands and Switzerland are both good options.”

“Okay.” My lips are numb. I stare out the window of my hotel room. It’s early here, the day gray and gloomy. Raindrops patter against the glass. I focus on them, watching the individual path each one chooses after slapping the glass, the way each zig-zags down the smooth surface, following gravity’s pull in its own unique way.

“We can also set up foreign entities to own the property. Really, moving as much offshore as possible is vital.”

“What about Violet Glamour?” I ask.

Tamara clears her throat. “If we establish residency for you abroad…”

Tamara keeps talking but the words stop making sense. It’s like I’m underwater. I can hear the sounds she’s making but they are distorted. Inside my head Ash’s voice reminds me thatit's easier to kill you outside of the United States.

“We can also consider relying on male family members or associates as nominal account holders or property owners, ensuring you have control through enforceable private contracts.”

I take a breath, let it out. “That’s kind of what Mary’s doing,” I say. “But she’s going a step further and getting married.”

“It’s a strategy that does provide a lot of protection and allows you to continue living in the United States. Do you have someone in mind?”

“I hate the idea of it,” I say. “Depending on someone like that.” I’m not one of those girls who grew up dreaming of a white wedding—I longed for Oscar’s accolades, not a husband. I wanted freedom. Still do…

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