Page 7 of Lone Spy (Starstruck Thrillers #2)

Chapter Seven

Buckingham Palace looms out of the foggy London night—the lights illuminating the building haloed by mist. It's massive, opulent, everything I ever thought a palace would be. And I'm an invited guest. Wild.

I resist pressing my forehead against the limousine's window to see it better as we inch toward the grand entrance.

The building is so tall I can't see the top of it anymore—just the lower floors with their massive windows and the pillars that stretch out of my view.

Hannah leans over. "You're not in Kansas anymore. "

"Shut up." I laugh, looking over at her. "You've been saving that one, haven't you?"

"I admit nothing," Hannah says, an obvious twinkle in her eye.

"I hope not because that's terrible," Zade says, faux disdain in their voice even as their dimples peek.

Hannah's laugh is deep. She doesn't seem nervous to be attending a party at the world’s most famous palace. "Is this your first royal event?" I ask.

"Of course not, I'm here most weekends," she teases.

"Same," Zade says, examining their nails—which are painted a metallic blue that matches their chunky heels.

Their dress is gorgeous. The material is a shimmering black that hugs their body; a slit on the left side shows off a long, toned leg wrapped in a sheer stocking dotted with crystals.

One strong shoulder is exposed. Peacock feathers flair off the other.

Zade's lashes match the blue, green, and gold.

They flutter them at me, a teasing grin slipping into place.

My dress is straight up boring in comparison.

It's a black silk halter top with a low back and loose skirt.

I could hike it up and sprint if I needed to…

after I kicked off my red heels. My lips match my shoes and the heart-shaped clutch I carry.

Inside is the "gift" Temperance gave me to pass on to the duchess—the compass with a bronze cover and chain. No context. Just the object.

I doubt I'll have time to slip it to her tonight without being seen. But leaving it at the hotel felt too risky. I'll see Victoria again tomorrow when we tour the Globe Theatre. I imagine we will find time to be alone then.

The thing may look like a compass, but it feels like an explosive.

Hannah's burgundy dress spills over my skirts as she crowds toward the window, trying to catch the same view as me.

The rich color of her gown sets off the silver in her hair.

She looks so elegant and composed—the cap sleeves and square-cut neckline at once sexy and commanding. I let out a shaky breath.

Hannah catches my eye. "Don't worry." She smiles. "Just act like you belong. Here, I'll give you a character. You're an internationally renowned actor on the cusp of her first Oscar nomination. You're drop dead gorgeous, stylish, and kind. Oh, and you're rich AF."

I laugh, the tightness in my chest loosening.

Piano music infuses the air. Warm yellow light fractures off the four-tiered chandelier hanging from the gilded domed ceiling. The walls are lined with gold-framed mirrors reflecting the elegant crowd bathed in glittering light.

The scent of floral perfume and baked puff pastries mingle—the signature perfume of these types of affairs.

Royalty, politicians, successful business people, and those of us in the arts stand in small groups as waiters expertly navigate through the crowd, their trays carrying champagne flutes and canapés.

The conversation and clink of glass is almost louder than the music coming from the ornate Erard grand piano.

It fits the room perfectly, adorned and embellished on every surface except the keys.

The three legs look like they belong on a mythical beast—pawed and feathered.

Paintings of cherubic angels trumpet along the sides.

I sip my champagne, resisting the urge to tilt my head back and stare at the intricate ceiling. Zade catches my eyes and raises one brow. Not in Kansas anymore.

I grin back. Definitely not Kansas.

My gaze tracks back over the crowd until it lands on Ash. He stands against the wall, hands clasped in front of him, eyes on me. I swallow an unnamable emotion and offer a soft smile. His gaze falls behind me and a faint line of concern etches into his brow.

Turning my head, I scan the crowd—tuxedos, gowns, and heavy jewelry. My breath stalls. There is a man staring at me.

Ebony eyes under black brows. Obsidian hair gilded by the room’s golden light. Full lips a few shades redder than his amber skin—as if they are slightly embarrassed by how good-looking he is and what a heavy look he's giving the stranger across the room. I turn away, feeling heat crawl up my chest.

I don't blush at men's looks. I take power from them.

"Oh my god," Hannah says, leaning close. "That man wants to eat you for dinner."

"They all do," Zade points out.

"Yes, but that one." Hannah is looking past me at the hauntingly beautiful stranger. "He doesn't look afraid to try. They usually look scared."

"That's because Ash is usually mean-mugging them." Zade takes a sip of their champagne before raising their flute to Ash in a salute. "Like he's doing now."

I glance over at Ash again. His expression doesn't seem much changed—the man is in an almost constant state of mean-mugging—but the line in his brow that first drew my attention to Hungry Eyes has deepened slightly.

"That's just his face," Hannah says.

"Maybe," Zade admits. "But I've gotten a smile out of him more than once."

"How?" Hannah asks, her tone breathless—as if Zade has accomplished some great feat. I laugh.

Zade shrugs and tips their chin down coquettishly. "A lady never tells."

Hannah and I both laugh. The crowd shifts around us and we all follow the movement to see Victoria Elizabeth and Benjamin Arthur—aka the Duke and Duchess of Balmoral—approaching.

Victoria Elizabeth is one of those wispy women—all long limbs and elegant movements. Her blonde hair is swept up with a diamond tiara nestled in the thick locks. A glitter of copper eyeshadow brings out the honey tones of her brown eyes.

Her husband walks slightly behind her, almost like a bodyguard.

But with a nicer tux. He is broad, strong, and wearing his penguin suit like he was born in one—which he might have been.

A member of the aristocracy and a noted actor, Benjamin Arthur is handsome in a classic sense.

Strong jaw and nose, full head of brown hair, and straight, white teeth.

The princess offers me a warm smile and extends her hand.

I take it and resist the urge to curtsy.

She is third in line to the throne. Her grandmother occupies it now and her father will be next.

Then Victoria. One day this woman will be the queen of England.

And she’s smiling at me like we could be friends.

Her grip is just the right amount of pressure. She's not squeezing the life out of me but also isn't afraid to make contact. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you," she says, her accent as crisp as a fall morning.

"The honor is mine," I say.

The princess shakes her head as if she's embarrassed by her power. "Please," she says. "I'm a huge admirer of your work. We watched The Benefactor last night. A masterpiece." She turns to Hannah. "You did a wonderful job."

"Thank you," Hannah says.

"So true," the duke says, his voice a boom compared to his wife's soft purr. "I loved it. Exceptional work. Did you do the makeup?" he asks Zade.

"Yes, I did," Zade says, their expression surprised. The duke notices makeup? It makes sense, though, as he was in the industry.

Benjamin turns his attention to Hannah and starts to compliment her on the film, going into detail of what he likes about her work.

Hannah glows under the praise. The princess and I stand next to each other on the periphery of the conversation.

She leans close, creating an intimate space between us.

"Thank you so much for attending and donating your time. It means the world to the kids."

"I'm happy to do it," I reply, surprised by the earnestness in her voice. She seems to actually care. "Your organization really helped mine. I'm very happy to return the favor in any way I can."

"That's kind of you. I know your schedule must be mad."

I let out a surprised laugh. "Yes, something I'm sure you know a little about." She gives me a self-deprecating smile. "Do you think we could find a moment alone together tomorrow?" I ask.

“I’d like that very much. We should have some privacy during lunch. I very much look forward to it. I feel we have a lot in common.” Her focus is pulled behind me before I can respond to that wild statement.

My mind whirls as the truth of her words strikes me. We share a passion for the theater, lost our mothers young, share the benefits and drawbacks of fame…but we could hardly come from more different worlds.

A trickle of awareness rides up my bare back. I turn to see Hungry Eyes making his way toward us.

The crowd parts for him the way it did for the royal couple, but there is an edge of danger to this man. The princess's family history and country’s love create the aura around her and her husband. This man…it's not that everyone knows who he is, it's that they sense his power and bend to it.

I turn back to the princess. She's offering Hungry Eyes a warm smile.

My gaze can't help but skitter to Ash where he still stands at his post. His hands are unclasped, loose at his sides, ready to grab Hungry Eyes by the throat and show him what a dangerous man really looks like.

A slight smile pulls at my lips to see so much emotion on Ash's face. Sure, it's just a deepening of the crease on his brow and a slightly different light in his eyes, but I can see it. I can read him.

I turn to Hungry Eyes with a teasing smile and a head tilt, angling my body to allow him access to our group. He eats up the space and drops into a slight bow to the princess. "Your Highness," he says, his voice a rich baritone.