Page 57 of Lone Spy

Tamara sighs. It’s the first time I’ve heard any emotion from her on this topic. She’s in her fifties, black, and at the top of her field. This is a woman who busts balls for a living. Like Mary, she sounds like this is all business—and that bitching and moaning about it to her clients isn’t going to change a single fucking thing. But that sigh. Fuck. I felt it in my bones.

“I understand,” she says, her voice softer. Gentler. “You don’t have to decide right now, but I think it’s important for you to start to think about this—while it’s possible nothing will happen at the federal level, and you’ll be fine with your California residency, I’d hate to bet your fortune on that outcome.”

“Of course,” I say. “I understand.”

“Just think about it.”

“I will,” I promise.

I do think about it. I think about Omar’s invitation to Scotland, Rebecca Levi’s intelligent eyes, and if I need to find a safe man to marry while going over my next projects with Mary—I have one lined up but scripts are pouring in. "There is a lot of awards talk aroundThe Benefactor,” Mary says with glee in her voice. "Everyone wants to work with you."

I’m thinking about it all when Synthia and I finally reach each other after a dozen missed connections. Ash and I are driving back to my hotel after a long second day of press. One during which Alesana mentioned a hair was out of place and then winked at me.

Zade slapped his brawny shoulder and then pretended their hand had been gravely injured. It made me laugh. The whole thing reminded me I’m not drowned yet.

Ash is sitting next to me now. Our pinkies are nowhere near each other. "You seem better," Synthia says, the connection distant—like she's in a cave talking to me through a tin can.

"You mean I didn't burst into tears at the sound of your voice."

She laughs. "We like improvement. Have you been working out?"

"Yes, Mom. Every morning." As long as I didn't spend the night in clandestine meetings or fighting for my life. "But I'm looking forward to being back in regular training with you."

"Mary tells me you're going to need swordplay training. And horseback riding lessons."

"Yes, should be fun. I rode when I was a kid." Before my parents died…my mind tries to drag me back to those sun-soaked memories, but I block them. The joy hidden there is drenched in sorrow I can't face right now.

"Totally, I've got some good people to introduce you to. You're back next week, right?"

"I'm not sure, I was invited to Scotland after this leg is over—so I may be a few days delayed returning to LA."

"Scotland? Who invited you there?"

I shift in my seat, turning to look out the window, blocking Ash from my vision. "Omar."

"The prince who nearly got you killed?”

"When you put it like that…"

"How would you put it?" Synthia's tone isn't playful. She's pissed. Pissed I'm considering becoming more involved with a man who has proven to be dangerous.

"He didn't do anything."

"Except abandon you in a burning building."

"He was unconscious. His…assistant, estuary, whatever that word is that means assistant but is all royal. But Rashid pulled him out. Nothing personal. Ash wouldn't have gone back for Omar after saving me."

Synthia lets out a frustrated sigh. "Angela, there are lots of men in the world. Why put yourself in danger for this one?"

"He is a prince," I joke. Every little girl's dream…one my grandmother would have refused to let me participate in even if my heart had led me that direction.No one will save you. Always be ready to run.

"Who lives on the other side of the world. You broke up with Julian because of these same issues; you think a prince has more flexibility in his schedule?" Synthia asks, always ready with the logic. "You barely know him. Don't do it." Synthia's advice never comes sugar-coated.

I chew on my lower lip. She's right. Of course. But she doesn’t have all the information. And I can’t give it to her.

"How is Archie?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Speaking of princes," Synthia says. "You spoil that dog."

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