Sometimes the power of love . . . A.J. Grayson has come a long way from adopted orphan to fast-rising executive at a cutting-edge technology firm. Now an anti-terrorist agency wants to use the revolutionary artificial intelligence system she developed to thwart a plot against Jafir's monarchy—and handsome, dynamic Damon Toca, the region's newly crowned king. . . . can be the most seductive weapon of all. In six short months, Damon has gone from gallery owner to controversial politician. When his cabinet hires A.J. Grayson—without his consent—he gets ready for a battle. Expecting a computer geek, and skeptical of A.J.'s highly touted secret invention, he is stunned to find a strong-minded beauty who arouses much more than his suspicions. But someone in his inner circle is in league with a treacherous adversary who threatens his throne, his nation's tenuous peace . . . and his future with a woman he'll risk everything to have and to hold. Selena Montgomery is the nom de plume of Stacey Abrams—she is the three-time New York Times bestselling author of Our Time Is Now , Lead from the Outside , and While Justice Sleeps ; an entrepreneur; and a political leader. As Selena Montgomery, she is an award-winning author of eight romantic suspense novels. Chapter One A.J. stared at the short, stern man, incredulous. The patience so antithetical to her nature and so necessary in her job was sorely strained this morning, and she was in no mood for even the most absurd humor. Certainly not the ludicrous story she'd just spent the better part of an hour digesting. The tepid coffee in the unmarked black mug sloshed a bit as she raised the rim to the soft mouth thinned into a line of disgust. She didn't have time for this . . . this farce. Anger warred with good manners as she stared at the older man, curbing her tongue with effort. The morning had begun at four thirty a.m., the shrill summons of the bedside phone rousing her from a fitful sleep. She had tumbled into bed a mere three hours before, after spending most of the night in the laboratory. Bleary-eyed, she'd grabbed a plastic-wrapped suit from the closet and what she had luckily guessed were matching shoes from a jumble beneath the bed. The jet left the private hangar half an hour later, arriving in DC in time for a glossy obsidian car to spirit her to a nondescript building in Dupont Circle. Early morning meetings were nothing new to A.J., but she had a firm policy against the unexpected. She despised the unknown; loathed surprises. Particularly those surprises that sprung up the day before the most important meeting of her twenty-five-year-old life. On Monday morning, she would have to convince thirty people that cognitive science was the wave of the future and a natural complement to their product line. The brainchild she'd slaved over in secret for more than a year would be revealed. Even more, she'd have to cajole the board of directors for one of the world's most powerful corporations into turning over complete control of research and development to the youngest executive in Grayson Conglomerate International. A.J. didn't doubt her capacity to handle the job. More than anyone, she was vibrantly aware of the responsibility she sought. R&D was the lifeblood of the GCI empire, particularly its advanced computer technology. Under her command, Poppet would be the next wave in artificial intelligence. But instead of preparing her presentation to the board or fine-tuning her prototype, she was seated in a bureaucrat's office at an ungodly hour of the morning, listening to a preposterous tale about secret agents and international intrigue. "Let me get this straight. You wake me at an unconscionable hour. Fly me five hundred miles in a rainstorm. Whisk me to a clandestine meeting all to tell me that my cousin is James Bond?" With a withering glance, A.J. pushed back her chair and rose. "Goodbye, Mr. Russell." "Sit down, Athena," the man quietly instructed. "No one calls me that," A.J. growled, but she sat immediately. Not that she was at all afraid of the man behind the desk. At least fifty years old, Russell had black hair sprinkled liberally with gray, a color that matched the thoroughly unnerving eyes. "The name is A.J.," she grumbled. She crossed her arms in a petulant pose familiar to her family, and pouted full, glossed lips. "What other fairy tales do you want to tell me? That Adam and Raleigh met on a secret mission and fell madly in love?" "Well, that's true, but beside the point." James "Atlas" Russell favored the young woman with a grin. "Of course, they broke up when she refused to save his partner, but yep, that's how it started." The Texas drawl revealed his amusement with the story. "Damnedest romance I ever saw." "Raleigh's a spy too?" Now A.J. knew the man was a lunatic. Raleigh Foster, the newest member of the Grayson family, was entirely too sensible and, well, staid, to be Emma Peel to Adam's Mr. Steed. Atlas leaned back in t