No way was this guy going to get away with her purse—with her mother’s final words in a journal lying at the bottom of the bag. For the first time ever, Annabelle regretted forcing Berto to walk at least ten paces behind her. This was all going down too fast for him to help.
Knowing the fate of the journal was at stake, she held on with all of her might. But the short lanky kid with a black ball cap was moving fast. His momentum practically yanked her arm out of its socket.
Pain zinged down her arm. The intense discomfort had her fingers instinctively loosening their grip. And then they were gone—the purse, the journal and the thief.
“Hey! Stop!” Annabelle gripped her sore shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Berto asked.
“No. I’m not. Please get my purse! Quick!”
The man hesitated. She knew his instructions were to stay with her no matter what, but this was different. That thief had her last connection to her mother. Not wasting another moment while the culprit got away, Annabelle took off with Berto close on her heels.
“Lady Annabelle, stop!” Berto called out.
No way! She couldn’t. She wasn’t about to let another piece of her past be stolen from her. The hole in her heart caused by her mother’s death was still there. It had scar tissue built up around it, but on those occasions when a mother’s presence was noticeably lacking, the pain could be felt with each beat of her heart.
Annabelle’s feet pounded the sidewalk harder and faster. “Stop him! Thief!”
Adrenaline flooded her veins as she threaded her way through the crowd of confused pedestrians. Some had been knocked aside by the thief. Others had stopped to take in the unfolding scene.
It soon became apparent that she wasn’t going to catch him. And yet she kept moving, catching glimpses of the kid’s black ball cap in the crowd. She wouldn’t stop until all hope was gone.
“Stop him! Thief!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Frustration and anger powered her onward. Berto remained at her side. She understood that his priority was her, but for once, she wished he would break the rules. He had no idea what she was about to lose.
Annabelle’s only hope was that a Good Samaritan would step forward and help. Please, oh, please, let me catch him.
“Stop! Thief!”
* * *
So this was Mirraccino.
Grayson Landers adjusted his dark sunglasses. He strolled down the sidewalk of Bellacitta, admiring how the historical architecture with its distinctive ornate appearance was butted up against more modern buildings with their smooth and seamless style. And what he liked even more was that no one on this crowded sidewalk seemed to notice him much less recognize him as...what did the tabloids dub him? Oh, yes, the slippery fat cat.
Of course, they weren’t entirely off the mark with that name. A frown pulled at his lips. He jerked his thoughts to a halt. He refused to get lost on that dark, miserable path into the past.
He scratched at the scruff on his face. It itched and he longed to shave it off, but he really didn’t want to be recognized. He didn’t want the questions to begin again. The minor irritation of a short beard and mustache was worth his anonymity. Here in sunny Mirraccino he could just be plain old Grayson Landers.
In fact, in less than a half hour, he had a meeting for a potential business deal—a chance to expand his gaming cafés that were all the rage in the United States. Now, it was time to expand into the Mediterranean region.
And Mirraccino offered some perks that had him inclined to give it a closer look. He couldn’t imagine that it’d be hard to attract new employees to the sunny island. This island nation was large enough to offer them a choice between city life or a more rural existence. And there was plenty of room on the South Shore for a sizable facility.
His board would love the revenue growth from the international venture. Adding Mirraccino as the hub would give them diversification. It could be the beginning of great things.
“Stop! Thief!” screamed a female above the murmur of voices.
The next thing Grayson knew a young lanky guy bumped into him as he ran up the walk. Grayson reached out, grabbing him as he passed.
The kid yanked, trying to escape the solid hold Grayson had on his upper arm. Between his grip on him and the fact that Grayson had almost a foot on the guy and at least thirty pounds, the kid wasn’t going anywhere.
“Thief! Stop him!” again came the female voice and it was growing closer.
Could this guy be the person in question? Grayson gave the teenager a quick once-over. “I’m guessing that’s not yours.” Grayson gestured to the purse in the kid’s hand.
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not exactly your color.” The purse was brown with pink trim and a pink strap.
The guy continued to struggle, obviously not smart enough to realize that he wasn’t going anywhere until the cops showed up. “Let me go!”
Grayson narrowed his gaze on the guy. “If you don’t stand still, you won’t like what I do next.”
“Dude, you don’t understand.” The kid glanced over his shoulder. “They’re after me.”
“Probably because you stole,” Grayson snatched the purse while the guy wasn’t paying attention, “this.”
The kid with a few scrawny hairs on his chin turned to him. “Hey, give that back.” He glanced over his shoulder again as a crowd formed around them. “Never mind. You keep it. Just let me go.”
“I’ll keep it and you.”
“I called the cops,” someone in the crowd called out.
Inwardly, Grayson cringed. The very last thing he wanted to do now was deal with more cops. A little more than a year ago, he’d answered enough questions to last him a lifetime. He was really tempted to let the kid get away and then Grayson could quietly slip into the thickening crowd.
Before he could make up his mind whether to do the right thing for some stranger or protect himself from yet another interrogation, the whoop-whoop of a police car blasted into the air. Then there was the slamming of a car door.
The suspect in Grayson’s hold fought for his freedom with amazing force for someone so slight. The punch that landed in Grayson’s gut made him grunt. Anger pumped in his veins. No matter what it cost him personally, this guy needed to learn a lesson.
The crowd parted, allowing the police officer to make his way over to them. Thankfully the officer immediately took custody of the feisty young man and restrained him.
“Move aside.” A deep gruff voice shouted. “Let the lady pass.”
Grayson glanced up to find the most beautiful young woman standing at the edge of the crowd. Immediately he could see that there was something special about her. Maybe it was her big brown eyes. Or perhaps it was the way her long flowing dark brown hair framed her face. Whatever it was, she was definitely a looker.
It was only then that Grayson noticed the big burly man at her side. Her boyfriend? Most likely. The stab of disappointment assailed him.
Not that he was interested in starting anything romantic. He’d learned his lesson about affairs of the heart—they made you do things you wouldn’t normally do and in the end, you got your heart broken, or in his case ripped from his chest. No, he was better on his own.
He was about to turn away when he realized the young woman looked familiar. And then it came to him. She was Lady Annabelle DiSalvo—the very woman he was here to meet with.
The police officer turned to the crowd. “There’s nothing here to see. Everyone, please, move on.”
Lady DiSalvo didn’t move. Was she that fascinated? Or could she be the victim in this case?
This was not the way he’d planned for their relationship to start—their business relationship that was. And then her gaze moved to him. He waited, wondering if she recognized him. Nothing a
ppeared to register in her eyes. And then she turned to talk to the man at her side.
A camera flash momentarily blinded Grayson.
Seriously? Could this day get any worse?
* * *
Where is it?
It has to be here.
Annabelle craned her neck. Her gaze frantically searched for her purse. Oh, please, let this be the right person. Let him still have my purse. And then she realized that during the foot chase he could have ditched it anywhere along the way. Her elation waned.
Her gaze latched on to the tall, dark and sexy man standing in the center of the scene. She’d sensed him staring at her earlier. But with those dark sunglasses, she couldn’t make out his eyes. He was tall with an athletic build. Her gaze took in the heavy layer of scruff trailing down his jaw, and she couldn’t help wondering what he’d look like without it. The thought intrigued her, but right now she had more pressing matters on her mind.
She was about to glance away when she noticed that he was holding her purse. Her gut said he wasn’t the thief. The young man next to him giving the policeman a hard time was wearing a dark ball cap. That had to be the culprit. The kid had the right build as well as a smart mouth.
“Hey you! That’s my purse!” Annabelle called out, hoping the stranger would hear her. “I need it back.”
A reporter positioned himself between them. The man with her purse began backing away and turning his face away from the camera. What was up with that?
She had to get to the man with her purse. And it’d probably go better if she didn’t have Berto in tow. Even though she knew he was a gentle giant, strangers found his mammoth size and quiet ways a bit off-putting.
While Berto glanced over the crowd for a new threat, she quietly slipped away. She threaded her way through the lingering crowd. There was a lot of pardon me and excuse me. But finally she made her way over to the man with her purse in his hand just as the officer was escorting the thief to the police car.
Annabelle had to crane her neck to gaze into the man’s face.
“Thank you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever see my purse again. You’re quite a hero.”
The man looked uncomfortable with her praise. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Well, I really appreciate it.”
“No big deal.”
It was a huge deal, but she didn’t want to get into any of that right now. “If you’ll just give me my purse, I’ll be going.”
Even standing this close to the man, she couldn’t make out his eyes through the large, dark sunglasses. His brows rose in surprise, but he didn’t make any motion to give it back.
“Is there a problem?”
“I can’t hand it over.” The man’s voice was deep and smooth like a fine gourmet coffee.
He couldn’t be serious. She pressed her hands to her hips. “I don’t think you understand. That’s my purse. He,” she gestured to the thief, who was struggling with the police officer, “stole it from me.”
“And it’s evidence. You’ll have to take it up with the police.”
Really? He was going to be a stickler for the law. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting—”
“I have to give this to the police. I’m sorry.” There was a finality to his tone.
What was it with this day? First, there was the scene with her father. Then she missed her flight. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d nearly lost her mother’s journal. And now, this man refused to return her belongings.
Maybe she just needed to take a different approach. “If it’s a reward you want, I’ll need my purse back in order to do that.”
The man frowned. “I don’t need your money.”
This couldn’t be happening. There had to be something she could say to change his mind before the policeman turned his attention their way. At last, she decided to do something that she’d never done before. She was about to play the royalty card. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures. And right now, she was most definitely desperate.
But then she had a thought. “If I don’t file charges, it’s not evidence.”
“You’ll have to take it up with the officer.”
Seriously. Why was the man so stubborn?
“Do you know who I am?”
Before the man could respond, the policeman strode over to them. “I’ll be taking that.”
The mystery man readily handed over her purse. She glared at him, but she didn’t have time to say anything. Her focus needed to remain on getting the journal back.
“That’s my purse. I need it back,” Annabelle pleaded with the officer. “All of my important things are in there.”
“Sorry, miss. Afraid it’s evidence now.” When the young officer glanced at her, the color drained from his face. “Lady Annabelle, I didn’t know it was you. I... I’m sorry.”
She smiled hoping to put him at ease. “It’s all right. You’re just doing your duty. As for my purse, could I have it back now?”
Color rose in the officer’s face. His gaze lowered to the purse in his hand. “The thing is, ma’am, regulations say I have to turn this in as evidence. My captain is always telling us to follow the regs. But seeing as it’s you, I guess I could make an exception—”
“No.” The word was out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying—or maybe she did realize it. She didn’t want this young man getting in trouble with his captain because she had him break the rules. “You do what you need to do and I’ll come by the police station to pick it up later.”
The officer’s eyes widened in surprise. “Much appreciated, ma’am, especially seeing as you’re the victim. I’ll need you to file a complaint against the suspect.”
“I...I’m not filing charges.”
The officer frowned at her. “That would be a mistake.”
He went on to list the reasons that letting the kid get away with this crime would be a bad idea. And he had some good points. In the end, she had to agree with him.
“Okay. I’ll need you and the man who caught the thief to make statements down at the station.” The officer glanced around. “Where did he go?”
She glanced around for her hero, but there was no sign of him. How could he vanish so quickly?
“I didn’t get a chance to catch his name much less take a statement.” The officer shook his head as he noted something on the pad of paper in his hand.
Why had the man disappeared without giving his statement? Was he afraid of cops? Or was it something else? Something that had him hiding behind dark sunglasses and a shaggy beard?
Or perhaps she’d watched one too many cop shows. She’d probably never know the truth about him. But that didn’t stop her from imagining that he was a bad boy, maybe a wrongly accused fugitive or a spy. Someone as mysterious as him had to have an interesting background. What could it be?
CHAPTER TWO
AT LAST SHE’D ARRIVED.
Annabelle checked the time on her cell phone. Luckily, she’d had it in her pocket or it would have been confiscated with her purse. She had two minutes to spare before her meeting with an executive of the Fo Shizzle Cafés. Her name was Mary and they’d corresponded for the past few weeks. It seemed Grayson Landers, the CEO and mastermind behind the hip cafés, was only hands-on once a site had been vetted by a trusted member of his team.
Annabelle took a seat at one of the umbrella tables off to the side of the historic piazza in the South Shore. She glanced around, but there weren’t any professional young women lurking about.
Annabelle looked down at the screen of her phone. Her social media popped up. There were already numerous posts about the incident with her purse. There were photos of her, but no photos of her hero’s face. Too bad.
And then a thought came to her. Perhaps a
phone call to the police station would hurry along the return of her possessions. Her finger moved over the screen, beginning the search for the phone number—
“You’re seriously not going to let me through?”
The disgruntled male voice drew Annabelle’s attention. She glanced up as Berto blocked a man from getting any closer. She swallowed hard. It didn’t matter how many times it happened, she was still uncomfortable having security scrutinize everyone that came within twenty meters of her.
Berto stood there like a big mountain of muscle with his bulky arms crossed and his legs slightly spread. Annabelle had no doubt he was ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. He’d done it before with some overly enthusiastic admirers. Okay, so having him around wasn’t all bad, but she did take self-defense classes and knew how to protect herself.
“You’ll have to go around. The lady does not want to be disturbed.” There was no waver in Berto’s voice.
“I’d like to speak to the lady.”
“That’s not happening.”
Annabelle couldn’t see Berto’s face, but she could imagine his dark frown. He didn’t like anyone messing with his orders and that included keeping strangers at a distance.
Annabelle’s gaze moved to the stranger. She immediately recognized him. He was the man who’d rescued her purse from that thief. What was he doing here?
He was a tall man, taller than Berto, but not quite as bulky. The man’s dark hair was short and wavy, just begging for someone to run their fingers through it. And those broad shoulders were just perfect to lean against during a slow dance.
He was certainly handsome enough to be a model. She could imagine him on the cover of a glossy magazine. He didn’t appear threatening. Perhaps he was interested in her. What would it hurt to speak to him?
Annabelle slipped her phone in her pocket. “Berto, is that any way to treat a hero? Let him through.”
There was a twitch of a muscle in Berto’s jaw, letting her know he wasn’t comfortable with her decision. If it were up to him, her father or even the king, she’d never have a social life. It was getting old. And if this man was bold enough to stand up to Berto, she was intrigued.
The Millionaire's Royal Rescue Page 2
