Secret Service

chapter two

chapter two

• alice •

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I looked out the window at the enormous Victorian-styled building in front of me. My first red carpet event. This should be fun.

The car came to a stop right outside the entrance, and a young man rushed over to open the car door for me. I stuck one leg out, and when my prized, black louboutin stilettos touched the red carpet, I pasted on a dazzling smile and slid out of the Lamborghini mini-limo one of the agents drove me here in.

Bright lights flashed in my face, and I barely resisted the urge to show the press and paparazzi my other prized stilettos, which were not shoes at all. My fingers itched to reach for the knives that were usually strapped to my thighs, but for this occasion, I had left them at my flat because judging by the mean looking ushers guarding the door, weapons weren't welcome in this new year's eve party.

I cat-walked down the red carpet, eyes locking onto the five burly men holding tablets in their bear paws.

"Good evening, gentlemen," I purred, turning up the charm a few notches. I tried not to think about what would happen if my picture hadn't been updated onto the digital guest list to replace the picture of the poor girl we had neutralized for the night to give me a spot in this party.

They nodded at me, donning polite smiles. "May I see your invitation, please?" one of the ushers said, reaching out a hand to accept the physical copy of the invitation I did not have.

"Of course!" I said, quickly rifling through my tiny crimson-colored snake-skin purse that matched my slit dress. I counted to three then looked up, crimson lips pouting and blue eyes watering in panic. "Oh no, I think I lost it!"

The ushers looked at one another, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Ugh, I must have dropped it at the airport when I was rushing here all the way from Los Angeles!" I moaned, before snapping my gaze up at them pleadingly. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz. Is there any way at all that I can get in without my physical invitation?" I asked softly, resting a tentative hand on the arm of the usher who had asked me for the invitation.

The five men exchanged another look before the one I was training all my charm on sighed and turned to me.

"It's alright, ma'am. We'll just look you up in the guest list. If you're on the list, then you may pass." he then looked at me sternly, "But next year, please remember to bring the invitation."

I flashed him my most brilliant smile and squeezed his arm, gushing, "Thank you, love. My name is Aleksandra Romanova."

He cleared his throat and didn't shake off my hand when he looked at his tablet, scrolling down the list of what must be three hundred people. After all, the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world were invited to this gala, plus their dates.

The usher frowned and my stomach clenched. "Yes, your name is on here. But why is there no picture?" he asked, brows furrowed.

I stood on my tip toes and peered over the tablet, but leaned back when the usher jerked the tablet towards his chest and shot me a warning look. Raising both eyebrows innocently, I shrugged, "Lag? Try reloading. I'm definitely there."

When the usher continued to regard me in suspicion, I breathed out heavily through my nose. Time for Plan B. My hand slipped off his arm and I narrowed my eyes at him, speaking in a mildly haughty tone, "Look, are you going to check and let me in, or not? Because if you keep holding me up, my date is going to be really upset."

I pointed at my neck, where a delicate chain of diamonds dripped from my collar bones. "He did not buy me this ten-carat diamond necklace just for it to be wasted on the likes of you." I almost snarled, eyes narrowing into slits.