The Millionaire's Royal Rescue

“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.