A Beautiful Lie (Playing with Fire #1)(64)

Parker showered and dressed for lunch, leaving the room before Garrett got back. It was better this way: no awkward silences, no attempt at strained conversation, no need for her heart to crack a little more because of what she’d done, what she’d given that hadn’t been returned. The black three-quarter sleeved wrap dress she wore looked like something she’d wear to a funeral, which was fitting, given her mood.

She exited the room and smiled at the guard standing in the hallway, her black, peep-toed Jimmy Choo heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked. She’d been there almost twenty-four hours and hadn’t even thought to look around. She was losing her touch and forgetting her training all because of one man.

Parker didn’t figure she’d find anything or gain access into any room that might have information that would help them, but she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing.

She wandered along every floor of the palace, walking at a casual pace and pretending like she was checking out the artwork on the walls as she went. Parker wasn’t stupid enough to reach out and turn the handle on any of the closed doors, knowing full well that she’d be seen and questioned.

Instead, she focused on the conversations of guards and staff. She assumed they had been informed that she spoke a bit of Spanish after her words of thanks to the President’s wife at dinner the other evening. This explained why the people she passed spoke to each other in Portuguese when they noticed her standing there. The two languages were similar in that many of the words were spelled the same, so they were easy to learn. The main difference was the pronunciation. Lucky for Parker she had spent several weeks last summer speaking only Portuguese. She was quite fluent.

Most of the conversations focused on security of the palace, meetings about security of the palace, or changes in security of the palace. Nothing stuck out to Parker as unusual until she walked by an office with two men in a heated discussion. She immediately recognized the first man as the Vice President. The man he argued with looked like one of the staff members since he wore the same crisp, white uniform everyone else did.

She walked by the door as quickly and quietly as she could, stopping once she reached the other side so she could listen, translating their conversation in her mind.

“They are going to find out about the cat.”

“They aren’t intelligent enough to put that together. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“You and I both know what he’ll do if this is uncovered.”

Parker knew her Portuguese was spot on and there was no doubt in her mind she translated what they said perfectly. But what the hell did it mean, she wondered.

“Mrs. Miller,” a familiar, booming voice echoed in the hall behind her, causing her to jump and turn around. “You look lovely this afternoon.”

Parker easily masked the look of guilt on her face and smiled politely at Fernandez.

“Thank you, Mr. President. I hope you don’t mind. I was just enjoying some of your art pieces before our late lunch,” she said, the lie easily rolling off of her tongue.

Fernandez stared at her with a smile on his face, but it wasn’t one of joy. He was using it to cover up his irritation because she was wandering around alone.

“And which piece have you enjoyed the most?” he asked her, attempting to trip her up, most likely knowing full well she hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to any of the paintings or sculptures as she wandered.

Parker had spent the better part of eight years studying this man. She knew the name and location of every single piece in the palace, along with how much it cost and the date it was purchased. She didn’t need to pay attention to her surroundings to know how to answer his question.

“I am particularly fond of the Salazar, 'Unscathed Earth', in the northwest corner of the third floor, next to the executive office balcony,” Parker replied confidently, raising one of her eyebrows in challenge.

If Fernandez was ruffled by her knowledge, he didn’t show it.

“I do believe we should be heading down to the dining room. It would be a pleasure to escort you,” he replied, bending his elbow for her to take.

Parker had a feeling he didn’t really care about being a gentleman, he just didn’t want her snooping around anymore. She wondered if the guards would get a good tongue lashing later for not stopping her.

Garrett stood up from his place at the table as Parker entered the room on Fernandez’s arm. He’d spent the better part of the last two hours wondering if something had happened to her. The only thing that kept him calm was the subtle, clean smell of her soap from the shower and the exotic scent of her coconut perfume she’d sprayed while getting ready in their room. It permeated the air when he finally let himself in after wallowing down by the pool for an hour after she left.

Fernandez walked Parker over to Garrett’s side and he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. The dress she wore clung to every inch of her curves and showed off a generous amount of cleavage, and Garrett had to remind himself that it would be inappropriate to maul her at the dinner table.

“I found your wife roaming the palace unaccompanied, so I thought I’d escort her back to your care,” Fernandez said as Garrett pulled Parker’s chair out for her.

The condescending way he spoke of Parker, making it seem like she’d sneaked away from her husband without permission, made her curl her fists in anger.