Page 39 of A Spy is Born
"Just wanted to congratulate you."
"Really?" I sit back in my seat. "I don't believe you."
He grins again. "You are really good at this."
"What do you want?" My eyes track to the door. How much time do we have?
"I wanted to give you something to take home with you."
"What?" He holds the pen out to me. It's black as ebony, with a gold tip and bottom. He shakes it a little, encouraging me to take it.
Raising my eyes, I meet his gaze. "Why?" I ask.
A smile curls his lips as he shakes his head. "Just take it. Get it home. I'll pick it up from you in a day or two. Don't lose it."
"What is it?" I ask again, and he just shakes his head.
My insistence suddenly seems ridiculous. I'm willing to kill a man, poison his drink with some unknown substance, but not carry a pen over international borders?
I reach my hand out and take the pen from him. It's heavy, as I'd expect an expensive pen to be, slick against my fingers. A chill runs over me as excitement tingles across my skin.This is dangerous. And it feels so good—that erotic pleasure is pulsing through me again.
Temperance is smiling when I look up at him. "You've done a great service for your country," he says.
"It—" I cut myself off and shake my head.
"What?" He leans forward, his brows bunching. He's concerned…afraid I can't handle this? He has no idea how much I'm liking it. Should I tell him?No, keep it a secret. Temperance is not a friend. He’s using me—for a greater good perhaps, but that does not make him trustworthy.
I shake my head. "Nothing." I give him one of my smiles—the one that hints at a sadness behind my eyes. "I'm happy to help my country." I take a breath. "Proud."This is hard for me, but I'm doing it because I'm a patriot.
Temperance’s eyes bore through me, seeking the reality beyond my words.Can he see the truth?He sits back as the door opens. "Thank you so much, Angela, I think I have everything I need,” he says.
"Wonderful." I give him a big smile—the one I give to every reporter at the end of an interview. It's broad, and yet, with the way I squint my eyes, feels intimate. It says,I smile for a living but you've really been a pleasure to spend time with."Thank you for your interest in me and our film."
"You're going places, I'm sure," Temperance says as he stands, holding out his hand to shake.
I stand as well and shake his hand. "Good luck," he says then turns to leave.
Sandra watches him go. "Damn," she says under her breath, her voice practically a wolf whistle. I laugh. "Well," she says, turning to me with a smile, "that man is something else, huh? Idris Elba vibes, right?"
I just smile.
"Never seen him before, must be new," she muses to herself, as she checks her watch again. There is a small knock on the door, and the next reporter and his crew step into the room.
I slip the black pen into my purse before taking my seat and putting on a smile as the cameraman sets up.
Julianand I ride together to the airport. A group of photographers are waiting at the terminal. "Can I hold your hand?" Julian asks.
He's asking if I'll be his girlfriend in the public eye.The black pen in my purse feels heavy. A whisper of guilt and doubt flitters through me. Is it wrong to be falling into this with Julian when I've got such a big secret?
He's got secrets. Everyone has secrets.
There is a shy smile pulling at my lips, and I let it draw my mouth up. "You sure you want to?" I ask.
He nods. "Yes, for months I've wanted to." Julian scoots closer to me, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me tight to him. "I—" He licks his lips, those blue eyes holding mine, making my body feel weak and pliable, making my mind feel strong and powerful. "I want to be with you, Angela."
I kiss him rather than answer. I want him too. But more than I want him, I’m enjoying the hell out of him right now. I don't know when I'll have had enough, but this...this could last.
I blink against the flashes of the cameras as we climb out of the black town car. Julian pulls me forward. In my other hand I grip my purse, the pen Temperance gave me zipped inside an interior pocket. Julian keeps his head down as the photographers yell questions at us.
