CIA Agent? Piece Of Cake.

Engaged?!

DAVE'S POV:

The next day:

I woke up at my hotel to my ringtone of 'Wake Me Up' by Avicii. I fumbled for my phone on the small cupboard beside me, nearly dropping it.

"Hello?" I mutter, in my gruff, scratchy voice.

"Mister Dave?" said a male voice on the other end, smooth and suave. "I'm sorry for intruding on you like this, but I have a message from the princess."

The princess? If it was anybody else besides Isabelle, I would have bitten their head off by now. I groan. There must be something important, for someone from the royal palace to call.

"Yeah what is it?" I sat up, rubbing my eyes. I was well, shirtless and wearing only my bermuda shorts. The air-cond was on full blast.

"The princess asked me to inform you to bring your luggage to the Royal Palace. You will be staying there. She will talk to you after you have settled in. I will be waiting for you, sir."

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in about... thirty minutes?"

"Take your time sir. After all, it's only eight thirty."

"Easy for you to say. Good bye."

I cut the line and I grumble. I slept at one thirty last night, and now I am deprived of my sleep. Just great. Well, being a CIA agent isn't always a 'piece of cake'. Why didn't Isabelle tell me last night? She probably planned this all along.

I got up and took a shower, brushing my teeth and afterwards heading towards the breakfast lounge. After a cup of coffee, a few glasses of orange juice and food, I headed back up to pack and got ready to get to the Royal Palace.

I hailed a cab, and fifteen minutes later, was at the Palace. I paid the driver, headed into the palace and was greeted by a man in his late forties, bald, scrawny and a little shorter than me.

"This way, Mister Dave," he said, ushering me into the direction of the hallway. The palace was huge, and he brought me to a room a few doors away from Isabelle's.

The room was huge, as big as Isabelle's room, equipped with a drawer, a table and chair, a TV, a queen-sized comfortable bed and a modern bathroom. It was better than a six-star hotel, but of course. It was a palace! The man left as quickly as he appeared.

I settled in, and laid down on my new bed for the time being. I closed my eyes, and relaxed for a moment, before heading off to Isabelle's room. I knocked the door a few times. She didn't answer. I knocked a few more times.

"Isabelle," I called, irritated. She didn't answer again, and I burst open her doors, yelling, "Isabelle! Why didn't you-"

I stopped when I saw her. She was changing, and I saw her wearing a gray color bra with jeans, while half-way wearing her shirt. My mouth hung open.

"YOU PERV!" Isabelle shouted, turning red and throwing a water bottle at me.

"I'M SORRY!" I yelled back, hurrying out of the room and closing the doors behind me, red in my face. I was panting. Oh goodness. I just saw her in her bra! And she called me a pervert! I didn't realize she had such a nice-

The doors burst open, and Isabelle stormed out.

"You pervert!" she growled, pointing a finger at me. "Why did you burst in my room like that?"

I tried to defend myself. "Why didn't you lock the door?" I shot back.

"I didn't say you could come in!" she said, exasperated.

"You didn't shout for me not to come in!" I retorted. "Goodness! What the heck were you doing?"

"WASN'T IT OBVIOUS? I WAS CHANGING!"