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.
Without another word, Berto stepped aside.
The man approached her table. He didn’t smile at her. She couldn’t blame him. Berto could put people on edge.
“I’m sorry about Berto. He can be overprotective. I’d like to thank you again. You’re my hero—”
“Stop saying that. I’m no one’s hero.”
“But you stopped that thief and without you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten my purse back.” Or more importantly, the journal.
“I was just in the right place at the right time. That doesn’t make me anything special.”
“Well, don’t argue with me. It’s all over social media.” She withdrew her phone. She pulled up the feed with all of the posts that included photos of this man holding her purse, but his head was lowered, shielding his face.
She noticed how the muscles of his jaw tensed. He took modesty to a whole new level. What was up with that? She was definitely intrigued by this man.
“I’m guessing you didn’t track me down to claim a reward.”
The man in a pair of navy dress shorts and a white polo shirt lowered himself into a seat across the table from her. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Was this man for real? “Of course I do.”
He shook his head. “I meant, do you know my name?”
She was definitely missing something here, but what? “I take it you know me.”
“Of course. You are Lady Annabelle DiSalvo, daughter of the Duke of Halencia and niece of the king. Also, you are in charge of the South Shore Project.”
If he was hoping to impress her, he’d succeeded. Now, she had no choice but to ask. “And your name would be?”
“Grayson Landers.”
Wait. What? He was the genius multimillionaire?
Surely she couldn’t have heard him correctly. He removed his sunglasses and it all came together. Those striking cerulean blue eyes were unforgettable—even from an online photo. At the time, she’d thought they’d been Photoshopped. They hadn’t been. His piercing eyes were just as striking in person—maybe even more so.
Somehow, someway she’d missed a voice mail or an email because the last she knew she was supposed to be meeting Mary. She swallowed hard. She should be happy about this change of events, but her stomach was aflutter with nerves. She resisted the urge to run a hand over her hair, wishing that she’d taken the time to freshen up before this meeting.
“Mr. Landers, it’s so nice to meet you.” She stretched her hand across the table.
His handshake was firm but brief. She had no idea if that was a bad sign or not.
“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know. You were expecting Mary, but my plans changed at the last minute, making it possible for me to attend this meeting.”
“I see. I...I mean that’s great.” She sent him a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.
There was just something about this man that made her nervous, which was odd. Considering who her uncle and her father were, she was used to being around powerful men.
But most of the men in her life wore their power like they wore their suits. It was out there for people to see, maybe not flaunting it, but they certainly didn’t waste their time trying to hide who and what they were. But this man, he looked like an American tourist, not a man who could buy a small country. And that beard and mustache hadn’t been in any of the photos online.
His brows rose. “Is there something wrong with my appearance?”