44.2
“And you’re going to head right back out the way you came in,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and giving him my best glare.
“I come bearing a gift,” he says. “Ben – my valet – found your passport. The footman never unpacked it from your bag.” He hands it to me, and I turn it over, feeling simultaneously grateful and skeptical.
“Why didn’t he bring it to me?” I ask.
“Because I asked him to find it, and he mentioned he did,” Kev says. “Besides, I know that last night you said no tours, but I came to change your mind. I’m offering you a private tour of Venici.”
“Yeah, right,” I say. “A private tour of your bedroom, you mean.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I have no ulterior motive,” he says. “I swear.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Suit yourself, then, luv,” he says. “If you’d rather have tea with my grandmother and a bunch of her stuffy old friends this afternoon, then have at it. I’m sure they’ll have lots of opinions about your charity work in Africa.”
The thought of enduring tea with Kev’s grandmother makes my stomach queasy. “You’re ditching out on the afternoon agenda?”
“Obviously,” he says. “But if you’d rather spend the afternoon with the old ladies, be my guest.” He turns to push the panel on the wall again. “Have fun, luv.”
“Hang on,” I say. “Let me get my bag.”
“I knew you’d see reason.”
“It’s not reason,” I say, stuffing my wallet into one of the designer purses from my well-appointed closet. “You’re just the lesser of two evils.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kev says, grinning. “I’m clearly growing on you.”
I stifle my laugh as I follow him into the passageway. “Yeah,” I say. “Just like a fungus.”
Outside, Alexia and two men in suits are waiting on a launch pad beside a helicopter. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved that Kev and I have chaperones.
Relieved is probably the appropriate response, I tell myself. I should definitely be relieved.
“A helicopter,” I yell over the roar of the rotors, unsuccessfully trying to restrain my hair as it whips around my face in the wind. At least I’m wearing my old jeans and not one of the new dresses from my closet. Thank goodness for small mercies, because that would be unfortunate. I’m sure Kev would be delighted to witness me having a Marilyn Carter moment.
“Nothing gets by you, Princess,” Kev says. “I told you I’d give you a tour of Venici.”
Alexia elbows Kev. “None of your combat landing bullshit this time, either, Alb,” she yells.
“It’s not my fault you have a sensitive stomach,” he says, laughing.
“Sensitive, my ass,” Alexia yells. “You’re such a prick. I don’t know why I even agreed to get in a helicopter with you again.”
“Because you’d rather puke into a bag than spend an afternoon listening to your grandmother lecture you about how inappropriate you hair color is?”
“Wait. You’re the one flying this thing?” I ask.
“What did you think I did in the army, luv?” Kev yells. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
“Never,” I say.
“That’s good to hear,” he yells. “If you’re good, I might even refrain from doing any tactical flight maneuvers.”
I’ve never actually been in a helicopter, but I don’t tell Kev that. A few of my high school friends had parents with private planes, so I’ve been on those – but a helicopter is different. We’re strapped in, our headsets on, while Kev runs a dozen checks, fiddling with buttons and dials on the dashboard in the front. Beside me, Alexia flips through her phone nonchalantly, like she does this kind of thing every day. Of course, she probably does.
The two suits with us are their personal bodyguards – one each, for Kev and Alexia. Apparently, I’ll get assigned a security detail soon enough if I stick around, but since I only just arrived at the palace, I’m in some kind of transitional phase.
I wonder why the hell we needed to sneak around inside the palace, when the bodyguards already knew where we were going. But I don’t have time to think about that before we’re up in the air and I’m distracted by everything else.
Alexia texts on her phone, hardly paying attention to the scenery below us, but I’m transfixed. Kev speaks into the microphone, giving me a history of Venici as he flies over the city, pointing out particular buildings as he flies over the capitol city.
“Venici dates back to fifteen thirty-two,” he says, as we veer left out of the capitol. He gives us a brief history of the country, but I'm too distracted to listen, transfixed with the view I have of the buildings below.
“Kev is such a nerd,” Alexia says into her microphone. “He’s like, obsessed with our family history and shit.”
“I guess if the whole future-king thing doesn’t work out, you can always get a job as a tour guide,” I say.
“It’s good to have options in life,” Kev says.
We fly out over the countryside, and Kev still points out important places, but I find it hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, simply because the scenery is breathtaking -- rolling fields the color of emeralds, dotted with cottages and farmhouses. At some point in the flight, even Alexia puts down her cell phone and looks outside.
I’m not sure how long we’re in the air, before Kev tells us we’re going to land. “This is the summer house,” he says, as an estate, spread across acres of land, comes into view.
“Isn’t it summer now?” I ask.
“We’ll be there in a few weeks,” Alexia says. “Once the royal couple makes their engagement announcement. The engagement party will be at the palace, and then we’ll retreat to the countryside. Fewer public appearances and all that. Way more boring, too.” I can’t see her expression, but if I had to guess, she’d be rolling her eyes.
No sooner does the helicopter touch down on the pad then a red convertible speeds up, driven by a guy in sunglasses I can tell is gorgeous even from where I’m sitting. Beside me, Alex scrambles out of her seatbelt. “Tell dad I’ll be back in a few days,” she yells at Kev.
“I’m not covering for you, shithead,” he says.
One of the bodyguards mutters under his breath, “Your sister,” and curses into his microphone before ripping it off his head. He follows Alex out of the helicopter, and I see her arguing with him outside, flipping him the bird as she hops into a convertible that pulls away.
So much for the summerhouse being boring, I guess.
