Page 5 of It Takes a Thief (Ring of Thieves #2)

A fter leaving Linc to stew over my words, I storm up to my bedroom and start throwing stuff back into my suitcases. I’ve wasted enough time here, and I need to get back to New York. Time is of the essence, and it’s slowly slipping away.

I yank the zipper closed on the largest piece of luggage and frown. He turned me down. I thought for sure when I offered him whatever he wanted from the coffers, he wouldn’t be able to refuse. But he did, and he did it without much thought.

Hmm . Either he’s a fool or he has principles. Most men, including Jeffrey, would’ve jumped at my offer.

Either way, regardless of what he said, I did not have a temper tantrum.

Am I upset? Yes.

Annoyed? Definitely.

Attracted to the huge, muscled man who just rejected me? Unfortunately, that would be a resounding yes.

With a huff, I strip out of my sandals and dress and put on a pair of comfy leggings and an oversized T-shirt.

The trip back to New York is about eight hours, and I plan on sleeping so I can avoid the burly man who probably considers me a thorn in his side.

Luckily, my family’s private jet has every amenity, including a bedroom.

I’d like to tell Lincoln Decker I don’t need his services any longer, but my parents insisted on hiring a bodyguard after, as they call it, “the kidnapping incident.” I wasn’t kidnapped. Not even close. But, being so far away from home, and the fact that I’m royalty, they worry.

By the time I’m done packing, my anger has worn off and I’m just…tired. Tired of everything, but mostly how I feel so out of control of my own life.

It’s your own stupid fault, I remind myself. Suggesting Jeffrey was all me, but I really thought I’d find someone special at some point over the last five years. I guess the joke’s on me.

After wheeling my luggage down to the foyer, with a little help from a royal guard, I wander back out to the veranda where my parents sit on a cushioned, rattan sofa. They stop talking when they see me, and my mom sets her wineglass down on the coffee table.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“No, but I will be.” I push my shoulders back and stand taller. “Jacques is flying me back tonight. I still have two weeks.”

My parents exchange a look.

“You really think two weeks will make a difference?” my dad asks.

“Maybe,” I say with a stubborn tilt of my chin. “Guess I’ll find out.”

“Everything we do is because we love you,” my mom says quietly.

“I know,” I relent. Because I truly do understand my parents love me and want the best for me. But it’s so incredibly hard when we want two completely different things.

“If you’re set on returning, I want Mr. Decker by your side at all times,” my dad says, and his tone is final.

“Dad—”

“No. I want to know you’re being protected, Peach.” The silly nickname from Mario Brothers’ Princess Peach always makes me smile. Even now. “Then when you return, his job will be done, and you’ll be under permanent royal guard.”

Like a prisoner , I think. My smile fades and I hug my parents before walking back to the foyer where Linc stands with his duffel bag, ready to go. I’ll hardly be free with him trailing my every move, but at least I have one last shot at finding freedom.

Leo, my family’s driver, helps Linc load the bags into the back of the car and then we set off for the small, private airport on the other side of the island. Most people have to travel to and depart from Nice C?te d’Azur Airport which is about thirty minutes away. But not the royal family.

I stifle a sigh, watching the picture-perfect scenery pass by the window.

With its majestic cliffs covered in jasmine, its luscious vines dripping with grapes, and the salty tang of the Mediterranean Sea, Arcadia truly is stunning.

I wish I didn’t have such a love/hate relationship with everything the island represents.

Basically, me being trapped.

An uncomfortable silence hangs between Linc and me. I should probably apologize for playing the princess card and ordering him around like a spoiled brat. But the words stay lodged in the back of my throat, refusing to come out. His rejection is still a little too fresh.

I don’t have a lot of experience with men, relationships or dating.

It’s embarrassing to think I’m an almost twenty-five-year-old virgin.

My rebellious side wants to hit the town and find someone to unload it on the second I get back to the city.

But my romantic side knows I’d never actually go through with it.

From the corner of my eye, I study Linc’s very large hand resting on his thick thigh.

The knuckles on his long fingers have a few scars, but the short, neatly trimmed nails give a sense of elegance I wasn’t expecting.

A shiver runs through me as I imagine what those big, powerful hands would feel like caressing my body.

You’ll never know , I remind myself. He has zero interest. Turned you down flat. You’re just a job to him.

I know he owes me nothing, but his snub still stings. A lot.

Probably because he’s the kind of man I would choose. One who is big and strong. Completely fearless. I spent the past year on a dating app, searching for someone special, and even meeting a few men, but nothing worked out. Either we didn’t connect, or they just wanted a one-night stand.

I’ve tried to take control of my future, but it’s been nothing but one failed date after another. Maybe my parents are right and my destiny is to permanently return home. But then why does the very thought leave me restless and unhappy? Why do I feel like there’s something else in store for me?

I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I don’t say a word until we reach the small airport.

Of course, once we get there, Leo gets a big hug because he’s been with my family so long, he’s practically a Fontaine.

I adore him and consider him my grandpa.

But I only have a mumbled “thank you” to offer Linc when he takes my three suitcases.

I know I owe him an apology, so the moment we’re boarded and buckled up in the jet, I turn in my seat, suck it up and be the bigger person.

“I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position earlier. I crossed a line. It’s just…I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

I know that’s no excuse, it sounds trite to my ears the minute I say it, but I hate being thought of as spoiled or petulant.

Maybe I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but who am I kidding?

I care what everyone thinks. The job of a princess is to care for others, most importantly, for her people.

And a big part of that is figuring out how best to provide for them.

“You’re forgiven.”

I nod and clasp my hands together, studying his rugged face.

My heart gives a little kick against my ribs and I press my lips together.

He’s ridiculously attractive. Stoic and in control.

The kind of man who would be dominant and very knowledgeable in the bedroom.

Right now, though, he looks a little uneasy. Kind of pale, too.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as the plane picks up speed, roaring down the runway.

“Flying isn’t my favorite thing to do,” he admits, big hands gripping onto the armrests so hard his knuckles are white.

“You’re scared to fly?” Disbelief laces my voice. I can’t imagine this rough and tough-looking man being afraid of anything.

“I’m not scared of flying. I’m scared of crashing,” he clarifies.

“I think we’re all scared of that. But Jacques is an excellent pilot. He’ll get us safely to New York.”

He doesn’t look convinced, and I hear his breathing speed up the moment the jet lifts off the ground, leaving the runway and the island far below as we rocket out over the black sea.

“Deep breaths and happy thoughts,” I murmur, trying to distract him.

He locks his gaze on me, those dark, fathomless eyes reminding me of the most delicious Italian espresso.

“What makes you happy?” I ask.

He thinks for a minute. “Drinking an ice-cold Heineken while reading or watching a fight on TV. Or watching Enter the Dragon for the millionth time.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s legendary. An absolute classic. The godfather of all action movies.”

“Really?” His enthusiasm is adorable.

“It has everything—Bruce Lee, martial arts, espionage, revenge.”

I chuckle. “So, you’re a man’s man.”

“I guess so. It doesn’t take much to make me happy, if that’s what you mean.”

“Me neither.” He lets out a snort, and I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a princess.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

“That means you’re inherently high maintenance.”

“No, I’m not. I just—” I snap my mouth shut the moment I hear the whininess creep into my own voice. I cross my legs in the opposite direction and clasp my hands together. God, this man has the power to get under my skin.

His expression speaks volumes. I can tell he thinks I’m a pain in the ass. I’d planned to climb into the bed and forget about life for the next eight hours once we hit cruising altitude, but now I want to clear the air. I chalk it up to my natural inclination to mediate and smooth things over.

Shifting in my seat, turning to face him better, I try to explain my side. “I was desperate…and looking for a way out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or come off as high maintenance. And I understand if you’re not attracted to me.”

“I never said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

Not sure how to respond, I merely blink. Something swirls in the depths of his dark eyes and my stomach flutters. He’s looking at me so intently. Almost like he wants to devour me. But then it’s gone, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Princess,” he continues smoothly, looking away. “Anyone with eyes in their head would agree.”

Right. What started out as a compliment now feels like a generic statement. “Thanks,” I say dryly.

“Can I ask you something?” His grip has finally loosened on the armrests, and he shifts his body toward me.

“What?”

“Why don’t you want to live on Arcadia and rule as Princess? Seems like a pretty sweet gig.”

As much as I love living in New York City, Arcadia is an inherent part of me. A part I can’t deny. The sun, the sea, the salty air scented with tropical flowers—it’s in my veins. It’s home.

At the same time, it also makes me feel like I’m being crushed in a vise. Shackled to a lifestyle I don’t want. And, potentially, a man I don’t love.

“Being a royal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I tell him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents, the island and its people. But feeling like I don’t have any control over my future is terrifying.”

He seems to consider my words then asks, “Who’s Jeffrey?”

I’m not expecting that question at all. “He’s the man I told my parents I’d marry if things didn’t work out with anyone else. With hindsight, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”

“Because now they expect it?”

I nod. “I don’t love him. Honestly, I barely like him,” I admit.

“Your father mentioned you have responsibilities.”

“Being a part of the royal family is life-encompassing. We’re expected to engage in diplomatic and humanitarian work. Appear in public to advance and support multiple causes. Having a ‘normal’ job is frowned upon and considered below our status. Being a royal is its own full-time job.”

“How did you end up in New York?”

“I left in order to find myself. If that makes sense?” He nods.

“In Arcadia, everyone knows me as Princess Merritt. So, I chose a faraway land where no one knows me or has ever heard of Arcadia. A place with a ton of people where I could just blend in and figure out who I am, what I want. Where I could just be me.”

“Did it work?”

“I suppose I’m still searching, and that’s why I’m not ready to return home for good.”

“You could say fuck it all. Never go back. Of course, you didn’t hear that from me.” His mouth edges up.

“No. I’d miss my parents too much. I know they mean well, and I promised I’d return if I didn’t find someone special. If I did, though, then I could live wherever I want until they step down from their royal duties and ruling Arcadia passes to me.”

“So, you’re dragging your feet.”

“I still have two weeks,” I remind him.

“May as well start packing, Princess,” he says dryly, leaning back in his seat and stretching his long legs out.

“You don’t believe in love at first sight?” Of course, a jaded man like him doesn’t. Why did I even ask?

“You wanna know what I believe?” He turns his head in my direction. “Love makes people do stupid shit and then it breaks you into a million little pieces.”

“That’s a tragic view.”

He shrugs a shoulder and crosses his massive arms. “I’ve seen it happen.”

“But it doesn’t always happen that way. Sometimes it’s…magic.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I can’t miss the cynical look on his hard face. “But, if I were you, I’d call movers tomorrow.”

His words make me sad, but, at the same time, make me want to prove him wrong. I’ve always believed in love and hoped to find it one day.

Well, now I have fourteen days. And I’ll go down searching.

While Linc slumps further into the seat and closes his eyes, mouth turned down in a sexy scowl, I pull out my phone and open the dating app. I find myself scrolling for a man who’s tall, dark and ruggedly handsome. Maybe even a bodyguard who looks slightly grumpy.

I end up connecting with a guy named Elliot.

He works at a bank and likes to travel. It’s hard to tell how tall he is in his picture, but I’m guessing not almost six-five.

Not even close. I send him a message and cross my fingers.

New York is six hours behind, and he responds almost right away.

After messaging back and forth a few times, he tells me tomorrow is his day off, so we set up a coffee date.

With high hopes, I close the app and snuggle down in my seat. Maybe Elliot Arnold will turn out to be the love of my life. Or maybe I’m just deluding myself and, like Linc said, dragging my feet.

I let out a soft sigh and look over at the slumbering lion accompanying me on the flight. God, he’s imposing. And so ridiculously sexy. Even resting, power rises from him like heat off pavement. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a man like that interested in me.

You’ll never know. You’re just a job to him.

Sadly, the reality sets in—j ust because I’m a princess doesn’t mean I get a happy ending.