In the blink of an eye, Peter and Belle had been living in Washington for a month.

In order to be a good tutor for the president's son, young Peter can be said to have done everything he could. He had enough intelligence and knowledge to educate Charlie Conway, who was not yet in elementary school, but in order to make the little boy like him, Peter had to play a little trick every now and then, turning his head, making a face, telling a joke, and so on. All in all, he did a pretty good job, and with his help, little Charlie was able to put together a complete Lego Death Star in three weeks.

The President of the United States has the top secret authority of S.H.I.E.L.D., so he naturally knows that a dangerous person who can sneak into the Avengers headquarters has recently emerged, and of course he also knows that the real identity of this governess Peter Parker is Spider-Man, who was appointed by the Avengers to protect the safety of the president's family. Seeing that Peter got along so well with his own son, the president didn't complain so much about hiring a governess out of his own pocket.

"It's all for security reasons," Tony Stark explained to the president, "after all, the White House is not obligated to pay for the president's children's homeschooling, and only being a governess can guarantee that Peter has enough reason to look after that cute little guy all the time." ”

As for Belle, since she was photographed attending the Independence Day White House dinner with the first lady of the United States, those rumors that she is a gang member and even involved with foreign terrorist forces have been self-defeating. Even if there are a few conspiracy theorists who have not given up their views, they have not made much of a storm.

Unexpectedly, she not only recovered her reputation, but also became an Internet celebrity all of a sudden. Those pieces of information that are of little value in the eyes of S.H.I.E.L.D., what professional-level ballet literacy, shining models, Mensa members, students in prestigious schools, etc., are enough for them to create a new national goddess in the hands of the media. For a while, the peaks and loops turned around, and the work offers from the agent were soft, but Belle suddenly lowered her profile and declined all job offers. Until an attentive reporter found her name on the list of registered staff members of the White House, and found that she had actually become an assistant to the president and his wife in their private life. Soon after, there was an article on the entertainment gossip page of Clarion Daily, entitled "Someone else's 19-year-old, mixed-race young lady is like a hanging-like life".

Peter sat in the back seat of the car, looking at the daily newspaper with the horn in his hand, and kept muttering.

"Tut-tut, the treatment is really different, I also went to that dinner, I'm also a member of Mensa, and I'm studying in a prestigious school, why did I get mixed up to the point of teaching little kids ABCD every day?" Peter said, touching Belle's arm, who was sitting in the back seat with him, "Big star, look at the car behind, is it possible that the paparazzi are following you?" ”

"No one can track my car." The driver in the front seat interjected coldly.

There's nothing wrong with that, because he's Clint Patton, a top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, known as Hawkeye's man.

"Isn't it your own request to keep a low profile?" Belle said, "If your name is on the White House list, combined with our frequent interactions, Hydra will easily think that you are Spider-Man, and not only you, but Mrs. Parker will be in danger." ”

"But what are you doing here, uncle?" Peter asked, very unfashionably.

The corners of Clint's mouth twitched, but he endured it, not as knowledgeable as Peter.

"Two days later, the president went to England, but London has not been very peaceful lately, and MI5 explicitly refused to allow the war machine to enter with the president, and they discussed it, and I became the pilot of Air Force One."

Peter's face also became heavy, and he said: "I read the news, there have been terrorist attacks in Westminster, London Bridge and Borough Market, and it seems that there are protest marches against the president's visit to the United Kingdom, it is a mess. However, if it is just to deal with a general terrorist attack, it should be enough to have the local military police plus the secret service, as well as Belle and me, and actually need to send Colonel Rhodes again? ”

"The terrorist attacks caused panic across the UK and also covered up the sharp edge of several homicides. In the past month, there have been seven deaths in London, all of whom were women, between the ages of 18 and 25, and the British police have no clue about how they were killed. But what worries us is the common denominator of these women, who work in special trades, who are Americans, and who are very much like our first lady. ”

"That's too mysterious, isn't it?" Peter asked, "What does it mean to be very much like the First Lady?" Does she have so many twin sisters waiting in London for the gangsters to come to the door? ”

Clint didn't answer, just threw over a folder.

Peter opened it and looked inside, revealing that it contained photographs taken from the murder scene. He glanced briefly at it and handed it to Belle, who, after reading it, spoke out the confusion in the hearts of the two of them.

"It's not that it looks like, but that the deceased deliberately dressed up as the first lady? Or was she dressed up as the first lady by the murderer after her death? ”

"It's not the most critical issue right now." "Mr. President made it clear that this visit cannot be canceled because of this inexplicable threat, and that given the Queen's invitation, the First Lady and Charlie will be going together, the task for both of you is very heavy," Clint said. ”

Hearing Clint say this, Peter couldn't help but straighten his back, but Belle sighed softly.

"By the way, in the past two days, I will be your driver part-time, and I will report to me every day if there is any new situation, and I will be responsible for all actions during my stay in London, but I am old, and I mainly have to rely on the two of you."

Peter's waist straightened up, and he didn't care at all that Belle asked nonsensically beside him, "What do you eat at night?"

……

A month ago.

London, North Gower Street, next to 187 Speedy's Cafe.

If you make a list of the most famous cafes in the UK, Speedy's will definitely make it to the top 10. It's just that compared to the super high popularity, its storefront is pitifully small. Four small broken tables and eight chairs huddled together in the doorway fill the small space between the glass vitrines and the walkway. The store is crowded and dimly lit, a display cabinet and cash register occupy a third of the entire storefront, several old wooden tables for four people are lined up along the wall, and the red and white checkered brick floor is matched with mint green walls and white ceilings, and the whole space can appear in the old movies of the sixties and seventies of the last century without any flaws. Two or three clerks were bored, and a few old neighbors of regular customers teased each other, complaining that tourists only took pictures outside the door, but rarely came in to buy something.

Jack Mitchinson is a medical student at University College London and a veteran detective storyteller. I wanted to find a summer job that could be related to his hobbies, earn some living expenses, and cultivate his sentiments. It's a pity that his ideal place is already full of people, so he has to settle for the next best thing and choose here, living a lifeless life in the store every day, and can only rely on the wonderful daily routine of consulting detectives and veterans upstairs to pass the time.

On a gloomy Tuesday, when there was no one in the store, Jack was lazy, hiding behind the cash register and watching the BBC series on his phone. So he didn't see Amora come in the first place.

This became the second regret moment in his life.

The sound of three knuckles tapping on the counter pulls him back from the series back to the real world.

"A cup of coffee."

The sound made Jack feel like his ears were filled with melted caramel.

He looked up and saw the face that would affect almost his entire life. This face is so beautiful and seductive that it can make Holmes forget Irene Adler after seeing it, and let Watson forget Holmes after seeing it.

"Excuse me...... Want...... Which one? Jack stammered, his tongue out of control.

With her left arm clasped around her chest and her right index finger lightly resting on her lips, Amola frowned and stared at the menu on the wall for a moment, looking a little tangled. Then she chuckled softly, shook her head, and tapped Jack's lips lightly with the finger that had just stained her lips, and said:

"Come and surprise me."

Then he walked and sat down in the chair closest to Jack.

Jack's soul is about to fly.

Soon, the cup of coffee he had carefully prepared was brought to Amora.

He was just about to leave, but he felt his hand being pulled out, and the delicate touch made his heart start beating wildly.

"Sit with me for a while." Amora said softly.

Jack sat down obediently and watched as Amora gently stirred the coffee, milk foam, cinnamon and coffee gradually mixing in the quilt with the turn of the small spoon. Her spoon messed up the coffee, and it messed up Jack's sanity and emotions.

She twisted up the coffee cup and took a small sip, frowning slightly.

I couldn't have expected to drink so much authentic coffee in a street shop in the UK, but Amora didn't expect it to be so bad. But forget it, she didn't come for coffee in the first place.

She feigned anger and threw a cup of coffee on Jack's face.

"That's what you surprised me?"

Amora's tone was particularly gentle, but the content was clearly murderous. It's like your girlfriend asks what to eat for the night, you think it's just a casual ask, but if you don't answer well, just wait to sleep on the couch.

Jack didn't know how to answer.

Amora didn't need him to answer. She stood up and walked behind Jack, took a tissue, helped him wipe the coffee stains on his face, and brought her face close to his face from time to time, her nose fluttering slightly, as if the cup of inferior coffee and the oil stain on Jack's face who hadn't washed his face in the morning were mixed together, and could give off the fragrance of Dior's real self.

"How are you going to compensate me?" Amora asked, leaning into Jack's ear, in a tactful voice and blowing like an orchid.

Before Jack could speak, she laughed to herself, stroking Jack's cheek, the tips of her long nails inadvertently scratching his skin, and she could peel off Jack's entire face with a little more force. But she didn't do that, she needed Jack, or rather, she needed that Jack who had been unleashed to his full potential.

"My dear ripper, are you ready?"

Like a scalpel, Jack picked up the coffee spoon that had fallen to the ground. The spoon spun between his long, nimble fingers, and was finally grasped firmly by his thumb and forefinger. He pointed the back of the spoon at himself and Amora, revealing two faces that were distorted by the curved surface and looked hideous.

He got down on one knee, kissed the tips of Amora's toes, suppressed the frenzy and impulse in his heart, and said in the voice that was as smooth as possible:

"Everything is at your command."