Spare Me

Chapter 8

Unknown number

Maddy, did you make it home alright?

Who is this?

Unknown number

Your martini assailant

M addy snorted. She wouldn’t have expected the prince to have a sense of humor. In their limited interactions so far he’d been serious, confident verging on cocky, at times shy, but never particularly lighthearted.

How did you get my number?

Mr. Martini

The same way I got your address to send you flowers.

Wow, stalker much?

They were beautiful, by the way. Thank you. That was very kind and very unnecessary.

Mr. Martini

It was nothing. I’m guessing by the fact that you’re responding to my SMS that you did, in fact, get home last night?

Nope, this is my ghost. Hello from the other side

Yes, I got home fine. Call off the constabulary, London’s cabbies are still passing muster

Mr. Martini

Why didn’t you ride back with the Stewarts? Didn’t they have a car there?

They were ready to leave before me, so I sent them on. It wasn’t a big deal.

Mr. Martini

If you were mine, you would never be finding your own ride at half midnight.

“If I was his ?” Maddy was about to unleash a feminist screed by text when Alex’s next message came through.

Mr. Martini

My employee, I mean

I see…

The typing bubbles appeared then disappeared several times before his next message came through.

Mr. Martini

I’d like to get to know you better.

Have dinner with me ?

Maddy’s jaw dropped. “Did the prince of England really just ask me on a date?” she asked the empty room, her voice rising an octave, nearly squeaking the word “date.”

Mr. Martini

I mean, if you’d like to. I won’t send Scotland Yard if you say no.

Maddy chewed her bottom lip. The fact of the matter was that yes, of course, she did want to go. But where royals went, so did the paparazzi. She’d had her fair share of photographers in the last two years and had no desire to be thrust back into the media melee. And, of course, the idea of a new relationship was out of the question. She was done being connected to men whose careers came with a spotlight. Maddy 2.0 had no business getting involved with anyone, least of all the second in line to the throne. If anything, she should be looking for forgettably attractive men to have casual flings with, not a literal celebrity.

I’m flattered, really. But I’m super busy with work right now.

It was partially true. As the autumn deepened, there were more and more events she’d need to help prep the Stewarts for and attend. But mostly, it was just better that way.

Mr. Martini

Okay, what about coffee?

Maddy’s eyebrows raised. She hadn’t expected him to counter. Then again, he probably wasn’t used to people turning him down.

Alex, I really can’t.

There was a longer pause before his next response.

Mr. Martini

If you’re seeing someone else, it could just be platonic.

Maddy huffed out a laugh. The idea of anyone else was borderline ludicrous to her.

It’s not that.

She paused, trying to figure out how to compose the rest of the message in a way that was both truthful and also completely devoid of information.

I’m just trying to work on myself. I’m still getting settled in London, still trying to get acclimated to this job.

The typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, and reappeared a few times before his next message came in.

Mr. Martini

Understood. Well, if you want someone to show you around town, you know who to ask. My family’s lived here for quite a while.

LOL. Understatement of the century. Thanks, Alex. Appreciate the offer.

Maddy sighed and laid her phone face down on her desk next to her keyboard and tried to get back to working her way through her inbox, which had gotten out of hand in the frantic run-up to the Armistice Day concert. A big part of her had wanted to say yes to Alex’s invitation. Had wanted to see what it would be like to spend time with a prince. What girl wouldn’t? But she also knew that after a lifetime of being in someone’s shadow, the only way to change the trajectory of her own life, to take things by the reins, would be to make choices that would put her on that new trajectory. And she knew without more than a moment’s thought that dating the spare to the British throne was the pinnacle of playing second fiddle.

Maddy didn’t hear from Alex again that day. Or at all over the weekend. But the following Monday, midway through the morning, she got another text.

Mr. Martini

This wasn’t you, was it?

His message was followed by a link to an article about an American tourist who had accidentally wound up in Dover after falling asleep on a commuter train and then gotten lost in the warren of decommissioned military tunnels in the famed white cliffs before someone had rescued her.

Maddy giggled, as she typed out a response.

Thankfully, no. Glad to know you think so highly of my intelligence, though!

Mr. Martini

I mean, you said you hadn’t had much time to get to know the city. I was mostly joking!

Maddy could practically hear him sputtering as he tripped over himself to apologize.

I know you were just teasing me. It’s fine. That’s hilarious.

As was this. Did this happen to you too?

She linked to an article she’d seen a few days earlier where a celebrity was asked about going to school with Prince Benjamin and had said he liked standing near him on the rugby team because everyone wanted to be able to say they’d tackled a prince.

Mr. Martini

Thankfully, no. They knew better than to put me on a rugby pitch. Definitely had a few kids at school try to befriend me for less than genuine reasons, but nothing like that.

Maddy paused. She hadn’t meant to take the conversation deeper.

I’m sorry, Alex. That’s awful.

There was a longer pause before he replied again.

Mr. Martini

Comes with the territory. I’m fine.

Now will you have dinner with me? Coffee? Lunch?

Maddy smiled ruefully as she started typing.

Nice try, but still no.

They went on like that for another week. Intermittent lighthearted texting banter, always ending with him trying to get her to go out with him and her demurring. She had to admit that it got harder to say no each time. But she just kept reminding herself that this new chapter was supposed to be about putting herself first. About making the most of her independence. About trying new things. Not about diving back into a relationship with someone whose career would force her back into the public eye.

One night Maddy was lazing on her couch, scrolling aimlessly on her phone with an episode of a mindless reality show about rich women behaving badly streaming on her laptop when her phone rang. It was Alex.

“Hello?” He’d never called her before, and she found herself curious about why he was calling now.

“Hi, Maddy,” he said. There was a slight pause. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, this is fine,” she said, reaching forward to pause her show. “How are you?”

She heard him sigh quietly through the phone. “I just… at the risk of sounding like an ungrateful prick, sometimes I wish I had a different life. One with more agency. The ability to make decisions without having to get my father and a committee of his staff to agree to things.” A beat. “Do… do you ever feel that way? ”

She let out a shaky laugh. “I think I know how you feel,” she said carefully. “I mean, I can imagine what would make you feel that way, but is there something specific that’s happening right now to make you feel like that?”

He sighed deeply. “Yeah, I just… sorry. You’re probably super busy, and I’m just calling you randomly. I just wasn’t sure who else I could call who might understand. And after the conversation we had after the Armistice Day concert, I sort of thought you might.”

“Alex, I’m literally sitting here watching a big screen while scrolling aimlessly on a little screen. This is fine. What’s up?”

“I don’t know if you met Eric, my private secretary?”

“Yeah, he seemed great. Really easy to work with. Why?”

“He threatened to quit because my family are basically the poster children for unearned white privilege and he can’t stand working for us anymore, which, fair. So I went to my parents and asked what we could do about it and my father seemed… about as open to it as I could have expected. But we met with his staff today to talk more about it, and they were just… ugh. I should be used to this by now, but they were simultaneously so brownnosing to me and almost condescending to Eric, and I felt terrible for bringing him there and subjecting him to these elitist pricks and also… just so mad about it.”

Maddy let out a long exhale. “Yeah, that sounds rough. Change can’t come easy to an institution like your family. What did Eric say afterwards?”

Alex sighed. “Not much. I mean, he still hasn’t formally quit—I asked him to wait until we could see what we might be able to do about setting up this reparations fund and putting him in charge of it, so he hasn’t said no. But he also hasn’t said yes.”

“But did your father’s people say no?”

“Not in so many words. I just—” He broke off, clearly searching for the right words. “I knew that I had no idea what his lived experience was like. But I didn’t realize the extent to which I didn’t know until this conversation. It’s like they thought he wasn’t smart enough to realize that they were talking down to him. The man did better at Cambridge than I did. And any idiot could have seen that. It was gross.”

“And what did you do about it?”

Another heavy sigh. “Not enough.” He sounded defeated. “I apologized to him afterwards, but I should have spoken up more in the meeting.”

“It’s hard,” she said. “Standing up for the right thing is hard, and you’re trying to start these conversations in a space where nobody has ever even considered doing that. So maybe today wasn’t perfect, but the fact that you recognize that you could do more is a good step. Is there another meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re supposed to meet again next week.”

“Well, good,” she said. “You’ve got another chance. What do you think you want to do differently next time?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I think I want to talk to Eric first, see if he wants me to speak up for him… but I want to shut them down.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Thanks, Maddy,” he said. “Sorry, I know this is kind of heavy. I just feel like I can’t talk to Eric about this part, and my brother is all wrapped up with the wedding and also only kind of gets it.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m honored that you trusted me with this.”

“Now will you please go to dinner with me?”

“You really aren’t used to people telling you no, are you?” She responded with snark, hoping to avoid the heart of the conversation.

“Well, come to think of it, no, but that’s not it. I just… even though we come from such different places, I feel like we have a lot of things in common. I don’t have a lot of people I ca n talk to and who will actually be straight with me instead of just telling me what I want to hear. I’d really like to get to know you better. Please, Maddy?”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “Alex, I just really don’t think that’s a good idea. Surely you can understand why.” If Alex had her address and phone number, there was no chance he didn’t have a full dossier on her and her history. He was clearly not stupid and would have to understand that being seen publicly with her wouldn’t be good for either of them.

“Look, I know I’m a liability in a relationship. But in case you hadn’t heard I’m new back in town and could use a few friends. And,” he went on, “it seems like you could too.”

Maddy wished she had someone she could talk this through with. The truth was that she was intrigued by Alex. She had, admittedly, never spent much time considering what a prince would be like, but the reality of him definitely wasn’t what she would have expected. Nadia had worked hard to befriend her, and Maddy liked her a lot. But they weren’t close enough for Maddy to tell her about everything that had happened before she came to London. The only people in London who knew about her past were the Stewarts, and she definitely couldn’t talk to them about the fact that Prince Alex was texting her. So maybe she needed some friends too. She couldn’t believe she was even considering this. It seemed like a supremely stupid idea. And yet, he’d worn down her resistance thoroughly.

“So, we’re going to have to unpack that ‘I’m a liability in a relationship’ line, but I guess there’s a chance that I could use a friend in London. Dinner. On the DL. As friends.”

“I promise we’ll keep it discreet,” he said. She could hear the victory in his voice. “I’ll text you with the details. ”

Maddy started to question her decision almost immediately, but she’d made a commitment and wasn’t going to back down from it, so the next night just after seven, she slipped out of Winfield House and walked toward the Tube. She didn’t seriously think anyone was following or taking note of her movements about town, but she figured that on the off chance that the paparazzi were watching, she was less likely to be followed in the Underground than she was in a cab.

She’d agonized over her outfit in a way she never would have if she was going to meet any other “friend.” You never thought about what you were going to wear when we hung out as friends , Evan’s ribbing voice resounded. After scouring the restaurant’s Instagram to see that it was a low-key upscale gastropub, she’d decided that her work clothes would be too much and make it seem like a business meeting. She’d never seen the prince in anything less formal than a suit, so jeans felt too casual. She finally settled on a maroon turtleneck sweater dress, black tights, and black booties.

Maddy walked up to the restaurant at 7:32. She paused for a moment outside, gathering her composure and trying to settle her nerves. It’s just dinner , she kept repeating. A friendly dinner among friends. Friends are allowed to have dinner together. This is casual. A casual, friendly dinner. With one more stabilizing breath, she approached the entrance and went in.

It was amazing how much quieter it was inside, even for a relatively popular bistro on a Thursday night. The bustle of the street outside faded away almost instantly to a quiet hush of conversations and the clinks of glassware and utensils on plates. The smell of high-class fried food wafted over her, and she inhaled appreciatively.

She approached the hostess desk and gave the name that Alex had texted her. The staff member nodded as if they had the prince in for dinner every night and asked Maddy to follow them. They led Maddy back through a dark hallway to a door, which they knocked on twice and then opened.

Inside, Alex sat at a table for two. The room was a small private dining room, clearly intended for small gatherings, but theirs was the only table set for dinner. Although she certainly understood why they would be dining in private, Maddy found it a little odd.

As Maddy entered, Alex stood, as if on reflex. He was more casual than Maddy had ever seen him—dark jeans paired with a soft looking green V-neck sweater under a blue blazer. He nodded his thanks to the host before coming to Maddy and kissing her casually on the cheek. She tried to ignore the niggling fear that her cheeks might have flushed at the gesture, which absolutely didn't mean anything.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, joining her at the table. “I have to admit, I was a little afraid you’d change your mind.”

She smiled uncomfortably, wondering how open she could afford to be with him. “I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind.” Apparently that open.

“Why did you come?” he asked, looking at her intently, as if she was the only thing in the room, which she supposed she was, given that they were sitting in a near-empty private dining room.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” She huffed out a sardonic laugh. “I probably shouldn’t have. If anyone finds out I’m here with you, we’ll both be in big trouble.” He was still gazing at her, his eyes telling her that he was waiting for more of an answer than the non-answer she’d given him. She sighed. “The real answer? I think part of me knew I’d never forgive myself if I turned down dinner with the prince of England.” He inclined his head in a way that told her he wasn’t too surprised. “And also, you intrigue me,” she said honestly. “You’re not what I expected, whatever that was, and I wanted to find out more.” She swallowed. “Why me? Why would you try to befriend me, of all people?”

“Well, you’re kind, you’re smart, you’re witty, and I think we have some things in common. The way we feel about family and loyalty.” He smirked a little. “And I’d be lying if it wasn’t damned appealing that you clearly had no idea who I was until I showed up in that first meeting at Winfield House.”

She laughed ruefully and put a hand to her forehead, hiding her eyes. “I suppose that’s valid. Although to be fair, you’ve done a pretty good job of hiding yourself. I bet there are plenty of your own countrymen who couldn’t pick you out of a lineup of guys in a tuxedo.”

They were interrupted when their server came to take their drink orders and the slight awkwardness dissipated as they perused the menu.

“So tell me,” she said, when the server had left with their menus, “what were you doing Down Under?”

“Well, for one thing,” he began, “‘Down Under’ refers to Australia, and I was in New Zealand.”

“Avoiding the question,” she said into her glass of water.

“What was I doing?” he asked. “I was trying to be useful. I have a degree in the history of art and architecture from Cambridge. I did an internship with a restoration firm. At first they sent me down there as a gesture of goodwill after that bad typhoon to show that The Family cared.” Maddy could almost hear the capitalization in the way he said “The Family.” “But when I got there and saw the devastation and realized what a huge project it was going to be, I asked to stay.” Their server returned with their drinks. When they were alone again he continued. “I could use what I’d learned in combination with this absurd privilege I have, my connections and resources, to try to help. At first I think the people expected me to stay for a photo op and a PR boost and then leave with the photographers. And really, that’s what I was originally supposed to do. But then I started building relationships, talking with the folks who lived there. And I don’t know.” He trailed off. “It’s not like I was anonymous there, but the press there doesn’t care about me the way the press here does. The people there were just trying to figure out how to rebuild a sense of normalcy, and they didn’t care who I was as long as I was there showing up and trying to help. So I just stayed. And a two-week trip turned into a month turned into three months turned into years.”

“So why did you come back?” Maddy asked, hoping that if she got him talking about himself he’d be distracted from asking her questions about herself.

“Duty called,” he said wryly, taking another sip of his beer. He sighed, gave Maddy a searching look, and, seemingly having made a decision, went on. “And with the wedding coming up, my family is going to be in the press more and more. It was going to look weird if I didn’t start showing up for things. So my father called and told me it was time to come back. And that was that. I’d had a good run, shirking my duty to the family business and playing at being a commoner”—the sarcasm dripped from his voice—“but playtime was over, and it was time for me to grow up and come home.”

“What would have happened if you had just said no? Refused to get on the plane? Fed your passport to a platypus? Taken refuge in a hobbit hole?”

He chuckled. “Platypuses are Australia.” Maddy raised her eyebrows at him, clearly waiting for the rest of his answer. “Pretty sure MI-6 would have gotten involved. And they have their ways,” he said, with an air of dark humor. “And really my parents can be like dogs with a bone. When they want me to do something, they’re not going to let go until it’s done. It was either stay there and wake up to increasingly nagging voicemails every morning until I gave in, or just come when they asked and save myself the hassle.”

“And how does it feel to be back?” she asked.

“Well, it’s reassuring to have the water in the toilet bowl going the right way again,” he quipped. “Right unnerving that is.” She laughed and then waited for him to go on. “I mean, it’s fine? As much as this conversation might not make it seem like it, my parents and I actually have a pretty good relationship, so it’s nice to be able to see them more often and spend more time together. And of course, I’m glad to be here for Ben and Hannah.” He stopped for another sip of beer. “But I guess even though I’ve been back for three months I’m still trying to find my footing. Figure out where I belong in the new family order. Find the things that give my life here meaning.” A pause. “How do you get me to just spill all of my feelings?” he burst out, laughing. “Are you secretly a therapist?”

“Tell me about your childhood,” she deadpanned with a quirked eyebrow.

They were interrupted then by the arrival of their food, and the conversation drifted to inane small talk for a few minutes as they tucked in.

“Ohh my god,” Maddy mumbled around the cheeseburger. “It’s a good thing this isn’t a date because this is so not a first-date food, but damn is it delicious.”

“What in heaven’s name is a ‘first-date food’?”

“It’s something the girls at college used to talk about,” she explained. “ Apparently on a first date you’re supposed to find something that isn’t too messy, won’t get stuck in your teeth, and won’t risk giving you bad breath.” She paused to take another bite. “It’s honestly shockingly hard to find something besides salad that meets all three of those criteria.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Yes, I suppose if those are prerequisites, it does seem kind of limiting.” He paused, thoughtful. “I have to confess, I sincerely doubt the dates on the other side of the table were putting that much thought into what they were ordering.”

Maddy smiled ruefully. “You’re probably right.”

“So how do you like London?” he asked, turning the conversation in her direction. “What brought you here?”

“It’s great!” she said, hoping she sounded suitably enthusiastic and simultaneously steeling herself for more questions. “I mean, of course, I work a lot, so I haven’t had much time to really explore. But I love the architecture and the history.” At least that was something she could say honestly.

“What’s your job like?” he asked. “How did you end up working for the ambassador?”

“It’s good,” she said, mentally searching for what she could say without going too deep. “I like my coworkers, and it’s nice to finally feel like I’m using my degree at least a little bit.”

She intentionally hadn’t answered the second question and was relieved when he followed up with “What’s your degree in?”

“I got a bachelor’s degree in American Studies from Vassar,” she replied.

“You Americans,” he teased. “Only you would decide you needed to study your own country. You don’t hear about us taking degrees in British studies or Kiwi Studies.”

“Yeah,” she snorted, “because if you tried to research British Studies it would be a whole lot of ‘and then we colonized this foreign land and then we stole that priceless artifact with the excuse that the people who created it certainly couldn’t be responsible for it.’”

“And that’s different than your beloved melting pot, how?” he asked.

“Touché.”

“And how did you wind up working for the ambassador?” he said, coming back to his original question .

“Actually, he’s an old friend of the family. You know how that goes.” Alex chuckled wryly and tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. “What do you miss most about New Zealand?”

He looked at her a bit oddly, but politely refrained from commenting on her abrupt change of topic. He thought for a second. “The anonymity. After I’d been there a few weeks, the people got used to me and stopped paying attention. I’ve never had that kind of freedom to go about my day-to-day life without feeling like I’m constantly being watched or worrying that by showing up somewhere I’m going to cause problems for other people or create a disturbance. I mean, I still had a guard with me, but I could do my own grocery shopping, go on hikes, eat out without having to reserve a private room under an assumed name.”

“I can certainly see how that would feel liberating.” Maddy said, swallowing the last of her burger and wiping her mouth with her napkin. “And what’s your plan now that you’re back here under your microscope?”

“Still trying to figure that out.” He stole one of her fries and ran it through a puddle of gravy on his own empty plate. “For now I’m just going where I’m told, shaking hands and trying to be a good son. One of these days I’ll need to make a plan, though, or I’ll start going mental.”

“It’s an inflection point,” she said.

“Hm,” he mused. “I suppose it is. I guess I’m at a bit of a fork in the road.”

“Scary,” she said. “But also kind of exciting.”

He smiled at her. “That it is.”

The sound of voices passing in the hallway filtered into the silence and before Maddy could stop herself she blurted, “So what did you mean when you said you were a liability in a relationship?” she asked, referring to his texts on the morning after the concert .

He sighed. “Wow, you really don’t do small talk, do you?”

“I mean, who knows if I’ll ever share a meal with a prince again. I need to be sure I get all of my questions answered!”

“Well, you’ve been in London long enough to see that the paparazzi can be vicious to royals. There’s no anonymity, very little of what the average person would consider normalcy, and almost everything we do is scrutinized by the press. Most people are decidedly disinterested in all of that baggage, and the ones that like the attention don’t tend to be my type.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.”

There was a beat of silence. “But I suspect you knew that already. You’re clearly very bright, and you said yourself that spending time together wasn’t going to be good for either of us.” It wasn’t a question, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

Maddy fidgeted, the outward sign of her interior panic as she tried to decide how to answer him. Part of her just wanted to tell him everything. It would be such a relief to be totally open about her past. But she couldn’t. Whatever “this” was with Alex, it couldn’t become anything more than a superficial friendship. To do anything else would be in direct contravention of the plan for Maddy 2.0. And she had to stick to the plan. Even if it was going to sting to do it. She decided she had to rip off the bandage. This whole evening had probably been a mistake. “I should get going,” she said. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She started to push back her chair.

“Maddy, wait. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Alex said, reaching across the table to put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. You’re just kind of an enigma to me. You’re so good at drawing out other people—that woman and her daughter at the concert, my staff, hell, me —but you’re a little sphinx-like yourself. I just wanted to know you better, but I can see you’re a private person. I’m sorry for prying.”

She looked at him searchingly. “I think I’m just confused. You clearly have a report on me. You’re right, I’m not stupid. I’m confident your people did a thorough background check on me before you walked into Winfield for the first time, and my story is not at all hard to find. Anyone with access to Google could pretty much find my entire life story with two clicks. I guess I just don’t understand why you’re asking when you clearly already know.”

“Maddy, my staff have a file on you. I’m sure Eric knows not only where you live and your life story, but how you take your coffee, and what’s in the darkest recesses of your internet search history.” Maddy flushed, but he barreled on, seemingly oblivious. “I have no interest in getting to know you from a security report. I want to get to know you from you . I asked him for your contact information, but I haven’t seen the report myself, and I’m not planning on reading it. I don’t know anything about you that didn’t come directly from you or my own observations.”

Her body relaxed, a surge of nerves and adrenaline that she hadn’t even been aware of experiencing vanishing rapidly.

“Eric knows I’m here with you, and I trust him like a brother. Actually, probably more than my own brother, who has been known to make some shockingly bad decisions in his day. Eric wouldn’t let me be here and you wouldn’t have been hired to work for the embassy if you were a criminal or a sociopath.”

Realizing Maddy wasn’t going to bolt imminently, Alex removed his hand from her arm. “Like I said, I’d like to get to know you better. As a friend. But I want to earn your trust. You clearly haven’t Googled me, despite the full knowledge that there was ample information about me out there, and even though I had no idea your life was so easily accessible, I wanted to grant you the same courtesy.”

She sighed and dropped her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I have a hard time opening up to people, especially lately. It’s been…” She fought past the tightening in her throat. “It’s been a long couple of years. But I think you’re right that we probably have some things in common and it seems like we could both use some friends.” She was startled to discover that she actually could imagine telling him her story. Someday. But not yet.

“It’s late,” she said, stifling a yawn. “We should ask for the check.” She reached for her purse and looked around, realizing that the server hadn’t been in recently.

He scoffed at her. “You don’t actually think I’m going to let you pay, do you?”

“This isn’t a date, for one thing,” she began indignantly. “And for another thing, even if it was, don’t tell me you buy into that kind of patriarchal nonsense.”

He held up both hands in a placating gesture. “It’s not a date, you’re right. But last I checked, the attachés at the American embassy don’t get the best pay, and my family” —he paused for a moment in mock thought—“oh, that’s right, my family basically owns this country. So I think I can get this one.”

She rolled her eyes, but backed down.

“Well, thank you for a very interesting evening, Alex,” she said, still faltering slightly at using his first name.

“And thank you ,” he said, smiling at her warmly. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed talking with someone this much.”

Maddy shrugged into her coat and hefted her Liberty tote—her sole splurge purchase since accepting the position at the embassy—over her shoulder. “So, how does this work?” she asked. “Do I go out the front, and you wait five minutes before sneaking out the back?”

“Actually, it works pretty much exactly like that.”

She shifted somewhat awkwardly, unsure of how to leave things, then turned to him and extended her hand. “Good night, Alex.”

He clasped her hand warmly. “Good night, Maddy.”

She tried to ignore the electric surge that shot up her arm when they touched, and she quickly turned and left the room, heading back through the main dining room of the restaurant and out into the cold November night.