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Annabelle had placated him most of her life because she felt sorry for him as he continued to grieve for her mother. However, living in Mirraccino for these past couple of years had given her a different perspective. If she didn’t stand up for herself, she would never gain her freedom. She would never be able to experience a lot of her dreams. She would forever live under her father’s thumb and that was not truly living.
Many people were put off by her security detail. She ended up refraining from doing things just because it was easier than following security protocol and having people send her strange looks, not to mention the whispered comments. Most guys she might have a chance with quietly backed off after meeting Berto. The ones that persisted, she’d learned the hard way, were trouble, one way or the other. And so her dating life was sporadic at best.
“I’m not backing down, Poppa. I’m twenty-four now. I deserve to have my own life—”
“You have a life.”
“No, I don’t. My every move is analyzed before I do it. And then it is reported back to you. That is not a life.”
Her father sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m just doing what I must to protect you and your brother. I don’t hear him complaining.”
“That’s because Luca doesn’t care what you or anyone says. He does exactly what he wants.”
Her father ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I know. I know.”
“Is that what you want me to do?”
“No!” Her father’s raised voice reverberated off the walls.
“Then maybe you need to back off. I’m not wild like Luca, but if that’s what you want—”
“Don’t you dare. I have enough problems with your brother, but that’s going to come to an end. If he wants to inherit my title, he has to earn it.”
She couldn’t help her brother, not that Luca would want or accept her help, but they were getting sidetracked. “My brother can fight his own battles. This is about you and me. I need you to back off or...”
Her father’s gaze narrowed. “Or what?”
She didn’t have an answer to that question. Or did she? There was something that had come to mind more than once when she’d felt smothered.
“Or else you’ll leave me no choice. I’ll leave Halencia and Mirraccino.” She saw the surprise reflected in her father’s eyes. She hated to do this to him, but perhaps that’s what it would take to get her father to understand that she meant business.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. And when he did speak, his voice was low and rumbled with agitation. “Your threats won’t work.”
“Poppa, this isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. And it’s not something that I take lightly.”
Her father stared at her as though gauging her sincerity. “Why don’t you and your brother understand that I just want to protect you?”
“I know you are worried about our safety after...after what happened to Momma, but that was a long time ago. It was just a mugging—there’s no threat to us. You can relax. We’ll be safe.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know that. I can’t remove your security detail. I...I have to be sure that you’re mature enough—competent enough—to take care of yourself.”
The knowledge that her father thought so little of her stabbed at her. But she refused to give in to the pain. This was her chance to forge ahead. “I will prove to you that I’m fully capable of taking care of myself and making good decisions.”
Business was something her father understood and respected. She told her father how she’d taken over the South Shore Project. With the crown prince now occupied with his new family and assuming more and more of the king’s duties, he didn’t have time to personally oversee the project. And Annabelle had happily stepped up. And she almost had the entire piazza occupied. There was just one more pivotal vacancy that needed to be filled. And not just by anyone, but a business that would draw the twentysomething crowd—the people with plenty of disposable cash that would keep the South Shore thriving long into the future.
“And you think you can do this all on your own?” There was a note of doubt in her father’s voice.
Her back teeth ground together. Her father was so old-fashioned. If it were up to him, she’d be married off to some successful businessman who could help sustain her father’s citrus business.
Annabelle lifted her chin as her gaze met his. “Yes, I can do this. I’ll show you. And once I do, you’ll remove the bodyguards.”
Their gazes met and neither wanted to turn away. A battle of wills ensued. Obviously her father hadn’t realized that he’d raised a daughter who was as stubborn as him.
All the while, she wondered if there was any truth to her father’s suspicions about her mother’s death. Or was he just grasping for something more meaningful than her mother had died over some measly money and jewelry?
CHAPTER ONE (#ub43de4ee-fb5f-5969-aff7-80af792236e2)
THIS DAY WAS the beginning of a new chapter...
Lady Annabelle DiSalvo smiled as she walked down the crowded sidewalk of Bellacitta, the capital of Mirraccino. Though the day hadn’t started off the way she’d hoped, she had high hopes for the afternoon.
With a few minutes to spare before her big meeting, she planned to swing by Princess Zoe’s suite of offices. They had become good friends since Zoe and the crown prince had reconciled their marriage. Annabelle admired the way Zoe insisted on being a modern-day princess and continued with her interior design business—although her hours had to be drastically reduced to accommodate her royal duties as well as being a wife and mother. If Zoe could make it all work, so could Annabelle. She just had to gain her freedom from her father’s overzealous security.
It wasn’t until then that Annabelle recalled the email Zoe had sent her. Zoe had left town with her husband on an extended diplomatic trip. And with the other prince in America, visiting with his wife’s family, the palace was bound to be very quiet.
Someone slammed into her shoulder. Annabelle struggled not to fall over. As she waved her arms about, the strap of her purse was yanked from her shoulder. Once her balance was restored, her hand clenched the strap.
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 appeared 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.”
