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.