Married to the Operative

By Ashley Zakrzewski

What happens when you receive orders to marry a complete stranger?

 

Maxwell receives a new mission to marry Vanessa Lambert. Upon further research, he figures out she's worth billions of dollars, has two Ph.D.'s and is the foremost authority on biological agents and neural mapping.

 

Vanessa is excited to help the NSA take down enemies foreign and domestic, but is it more than what she bargained for? Intelligence doesn't matter when someone is trying to kill you and she has no combative experience or training.

 

Maxwell, a highly decorated member of the NSA's task force, has never turned down an order, and he won't start now.

 

Will the forced proximity push them together or tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Zakrzewski
• Release date: Apr 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393105718

Ashley Zakrzewski

USA Today & International Best Selling Author Ashley Zakrzewski is known for her captivating storytelling, sultry plots, and dynamic protagonists. Hailing from Arkansas, her affinity for the written word began early on, and she has been relentlessly chasing after her dreams ever since.

Book preview

1

Maxwell stared at the orders in the folder in front of him without bothering to disguise his skepticism. What were they trying to do? The orders inside seemed weird, even for the National Security Agency. Formally, he was a soldier until eight months ago.

As a highly decorated member of their task force, they deployed him on more classified missions than he could count because of his unique skill set. During his time with the organization, he already aided a coup in Africa, revealed two corrupt politicians, and prevented a bombing in Emerson. Not something like the disclosed information within the folder sitting on his lap.

He looked at the paperwork in his hands and wasn’t sure how to process what he was being asked to do. Of course he could decline the mission, but being accustomed to following orders for ten years makes it hard. Were they being serious? Why would they ask him to do this? At first, he thought maybe it was possible they were pranking him, but that was considered out of character for them.

He glanced up from his orders to the watchful eyes of his handler, General Ethan Wright. The older man broke the silence. What are you thinking? he asked, his index finger on his chin.

After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, Permission to speak freely?

Granted.

Is the NSA sure this is a good idea? This woman, from what I have read, is a civilian. Clearly, she’s exceptionally brilliant, but not a soldier, and certainly not a spy. Does this woman know what she’s getting herself into, or am I simply supposed to charm her into marrying me?

There it was on the table. The mission, to marry a woman named Vanessa Lambert. She held not one, but two PhDs and was one of the foremost authorities on biological agents and neural mapping. How was he going to marry a stranger? Marriage was something he always hoped for, but he didn’t know if he would ever meet that special someone because of his occupation. This certainly wasn’t how he planned on doing it. However, he wasn’t one to decline orders either, and even though this would be completely against what he believed in marriage-wise, he would do it.

Vanessa was worth several billion dollars. Lambert Designs was a think tank company founded by her parents and their vice president of research and development. The company sold ideas and products to technological, pharmaceutical, and scientific corporations around the world—not to mention their government contracts. Aside from being brilliant and wealthy, she was also philanthropically minded. Her foundation specialized in providing research grants and scholarships to underprivileged but deserving students. On paper, she was remarkable, but nowhere in the file had he read about training to be a spy.

This was interesting to him, but he was not sure how it qualified her to become an operative for the NSA. Intelligence didn’t matter when someone was trying to kill you, or worse.

The General took up Maxwell’s inquiry with a quiet smile. Vanessa’s remarkable. It would be difficult to find another person on the planet whose opinion is so often sought. She graduated from the University of Beaufort at fifteen, finished her graduate work by twenty-one, and has been prolifically publishing and researching since she was a teenager.

Maxwell’s gaze clearly communicated that he was assured by this declaration as Ethan continued. She knows about our proposition and has many of the same questions as you. Of course, NSA had married couples in the past who have worked together. However, those relationships have always evolved naturally. We also have agents who pose as husband and wife regularly, but we believe developing a long-term team would be helpful, more genuine.

Maxwell couldn’t quite suppress his laughter. Genuine? We’re spies—you’re worried about being genuine?

General Wright ignored his outburst. We are only asking for a year. You would simply think of it as a job. The two of you would decide what restrictions to place on each other—and how far you’ll take things—but there are obvious issues that you must consider. For instance, overt flirting or cheating with another person, while perhaps tempting, can’t happen. Those are all details that will be smoothed out as you go. The real issue is, are you willing to meet and try it?

Maxwell stared out the window of Ethan’s office. Why her? Why not another NSA agent?

General Wright suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. You know why. The two of you would be an unstoppable team. You have the practical and tactical training needed. However, you know as well as anyone that many of the threats we face today have as much to do with brains as the ability to fire a gun—no offense to your own highly decorated academic career. We need a team that can handle both aspects of the job. You would be our go-to team for countless missions. I doubt the two of you would have much downtime at all.

Maxwell smiled for the first time since reading those orders. He obtained a master’s degree in multicultural communication and graduated with honors. However, compared to Vanessa Lambert, he was a high school dropout. Well, if she’s game, I’m willing to at least meet her.

Standing, General Wright shook his hand. Good man. Here’s your information packet. It contains all the details in these files. You know the protocol. Wipe all memory once you have reviewed the data. Your meeting will appear to be unplanned. Let me know what the two of you decide.

Walking back into the warm Carlston sun, Maxwell opened the envelope that held his future. There was a ticket for a seminar, one week from today. Vanessa was one of the speakers.

There were so many questions running through his mind. Who was this woman he was going to marry? Was she a snob? Her intelligence was attractive in its own right, but they would have to stand each other for this to work properly.

NSA was attempting to enact a plot that, until yesterday, he would have argued only happened in movies. Unfortunately, this was real life; the bullets actually killed people, and there were no green screens or second takes.

He was hesitant to drag a civilian into the mess of his daily life, but he would talk with her. It would be fascinating to meet a genius, but it took more than intelligence to be NSA. Was she a good liar? Had she ever held a gun or used one? So many things ran through his mind about her safety in this partnership, and the last thing he needed was to have to worry about his partner getting hurt because she didn’t have adequate training.

A week later, sitting in a room with fifty other people, waiting for the seminar on subconscious biological decision theory to start, Maxwell was feeling less confident in his decision to meet with Vanessa. Could the two even hold a conversation? He didn’t have a clue about neurological mapping, or most of the things on the list to speak about today.

The audience filled with individuals that seemed excited to be there. Significant others had dragged a few; some were attending because of company policy or at a professor’s recommendation. Vanessa was co-presenting with a popular self-help guru, Dr. Melanie May Renault.

Mildly surprised, one of the world’s leading scientific minds would be sharing the stage with someone who seemed more interested in social norms than scientific data. This should be interesting. This could be an indication that she’s not as snobbish as her intelligence would perceive.

At last, the two presenters took to the stage. It relieved Maxwell to see that Vanessa appeared to be engaging and enthusiastic instead of the staid academic figure he feared she would be.

While he understood the main points of the lecture, he also had moments of confusion as the two women walked through mountains of data obtained in recent experiments.

After the presentation finished, a whole line of people formed to ask questions of the speakers.

Maxwell joined the admiring throng, listening with interest to the questions and answers being shared. It also gave him the opportunity to study his prospective partner—wife—in greater detail.

She was petite with dark hair, piercing green eyes, and an adorable sprinkling of freckles. He could only describe her build as fit and would wager she worked out regularly. Their eyes met briefly as a flicker of recognition dawned in her gaze before she went back to her explanation of game theory analysis and the way they had refined it through years of biological conditioning.

As publishers and managers started ushering others away, Maxwell made his move. That was an interesting discussion.

VANESSA STARED AT THE man before her; he was about average height with curly dark hair and warm brown eyes. His manner seemed relaxed and winning.

He was probably used to being able to charm his way out of almost any situation. However, his muscular frame could clearly handle any resistance he might meet. According to his file, Maxwell was ex special forces, spoke three different languages, was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, and could shoot with an accuracy most snipers would envy.

Mirroring his calm demeanor, she offered, Thank you, are you familiar with biological decision theory?

Maxwell grinned. Actually, I’m not familiar with the technical terms associated with it, but after hearing your discussion, it’s clearly a concept we use daily. Have you and Dr. Renault worked together for long?

An event manager was motioning for Vanessa to leave, but she ignored the man and continued talking with her new acquaintance. We worked together on a joint project several years ago—not long after I graduated from college. We became good friends, and it was a natural pairing. She deals with the practical behavioral side of the equations, and I deal with the data. It is a formula that has served our purposes through several collaborations.

What prompted the two of you to set up today’s seminar?

She didn’t blink as she answered, Actually, a good friend of ours, Dr. Stewart, who works at The University of Carlston, coordinated the event. He knew that Melanie and I would both be in the area. I just finished addressing several committees in Parliament and Melanie is guest lecturing for the next two weeks. All we had to do was show up and share our research.

Offering his most sincere smile along with his hand, he added, Forgive my manners, I’m Maxwell Park. A buddy of mine from the Army mentioned I should come hear your lecture. A workshop you conducted for their squadron a while back suitably awed him. I must say he was right on all points, including the fact that you’re quite beautiful.

Vanessa resisted the urge to flush at his praise. It was all part of the game. He was selling their story for the first time to their first audience. Matching his half-playful, half-sincere tone, she laughed. I must get your friend to endorse my next research paper if he is saying such nice things.

The manager rolled his eyes. Maxwell had mercy on the man and moved to the next step. I was wondering if I could take you to dinner. I know a great Italian restaurant in the area.

Continuing on their pre-scripted discussion, Vanessa replied, That is a wonderful offer, but I have an early flight tomorrow. Maybe you could join me for an early dinner at my hotel. They say the chef is excellent.

He quickly agreed, and they would meet in two hours. Going their separate ways, it wasn’t difficult to imagine what the other was thinking.

Would further conversation reveal a personality and character that the other could live with for the next year? Would serving their country be sufficient motivation to commit to such a nonsensical endeavor? Could they lie to their families? Could they navigate the awkward first stages of pretending to get to know one another when they had already read a condensed version of each other’s lives in black-and-white print?

As Maxwell left, she continued to network with the others who came to hear her lecture. She’d always been good at public speaking, but meeting him in this atmosphere was intimidating. Most people don’t understand her area of expertise and find it quite boring, which was why the nerves set in as she took the stage.

Vanessa got caught up in talking and let time slip by with only thirty minutes before her dinner date with Maxwell.

Excuse me, I’ve got to leave now. Enjoy the rest of your evening. She apologized.

Making it back to her hotel room, she had fifteen minutes to change and then make it back downstairs. She was not one to be late to anything.

Vanessa descended the broad staircase of the hotel, wondering if Maxwell had already taken a seat at the table she reserved earlier in the afternoon. She had changed into a cocktail dress but tried not to think too much about her appearance.

It was difficult to know how to proceed. After all, there were government officials wanting her to marry this man, but what if they hated one another? What if he chewed with his mouth open or couldn’t stand her restless nights?

When NSA approached her about their latest proposal, she told them they were crazy. Of course, she worked with them before, along with the CIA, MI5 and MI6, Australian Intelligence, and almost every other country considered to be the good guys.

Yet she had never considered becoming a field agent. Still, the more they had explained their plan, the more it made sense.

She could understand why they wanted to pair Maxwell and her together. They were the missing halves of each other. The perfect team. If they could sell the story of their relationship, they would be unstoppable. Still, she wasn’t sure how she could marry a stranger. Hell, marry anyone at all. It wasn’t like men threw themselves at her. Marriage was something she gave up on. No perfect husband and a beautiful house with a white picket fence, and two kids for her. The older she got, the more she gave up on the idea of being happy in that way.

Finding his eyes across the room as she followed the concierge, she wondered if he had many of the same questions floating around in his mind.

2

Maxwell watched his future wife, if all went according to plan, approach. She changed into a slightly more formal dress, which made him happy; he opted for his blazer instead of just the shirt he had been wearing earlier in the day.

He stood to greet her nervously, lightly kissing her cheek. You look beautiful.

She didn’t reject his kiss, offering a wry smile as she took her seat. You don’t look so bad yourself.

They spent the next hour in conversation about facts they already knew. The topics were flagging—it was exhausting to pretend to discuss and be interested in information they already read. During a pause, Vanessa turned to him in genuine curiosity for the first time. What does it feel like in those final moments before you attack... during a mission?

This was a departure from their former discussion, but if this relationship was going to work, they needed some spontaneity.

Maxwell’s gaze rested on some distant point, but his mind was a thousand miles away, reliving those seconds before breach—before bullets started flying or before they began silently wending their way through dark tunnels, disabling their targets.

After a lengthy pause, he answered, Quiet. It feels quiet. All the adrenaline, training, debriefing... It all goes still, and I just focus on breathing. I search for the one peaceful space in my brain and try to inhabit that area for as long as possible. It kept me sane when the chaos started. That is as close as I can get to describing what I experienced.

It enraptured Vanessa. This was her area of expertise—mapping the human brain, finding the connections between emotions expressed, where they originated, and why it affected some people differently than others.

Dozens of questions poured from her as it forced Maxwell into more introspection as he attempted to answer her queries. It was a challenge to follow some of her logical progressions, but she stopped every so often to illustrate her points and elaborate on her past research.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle many nights like this, but he couldn’t deny the intrigue. She was very intelligent, and he couldn’t relate to the things she spoke about, but he wanted to learn, for their marriage’s sake.

Catching glimpses into her mind was like free diving. The more you did it, the deeper you could go. With training, it would become easier, but no matter how good you got, there were areas that would remain mysteries.

Yet