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W HAT WAS ONE TO DO when the woman he had sworn to protect was a darling little...thief?

And not only that, but the troublesome girl even dared to commit such a crime in a territory that everyone knew to be his.

Sylvain's hooded gaze shifted back to the wall of surveillance monitors, three of which had been programmed to follow her movements.

A young woman with dark hair; her height and looks, nothing out of the ordinary. But because she had made the mistake of entering his lair, her life would soon be the opposite.

"How long has she been here?" he questioned his security chief.

"Exactly thirty-two minutes, monsieur," Noel replied. That his master didn't specify a name was the only clue he needed. La fille was special, her existence as Viktor Biancardi's half-sister best kept secret, for her sake.

"And what has she done during that time?"

"If I were to hazard a guess," Noel said thoughtfully, " la fille has already marked three potential targets."

"Let's see what she'll do then."

Sylvain and Noel left the security room, moving down a cavernous passageway carved from the ancient limestone of Paris's famed catacombs. The corridor opened into the main hall of Le Dernier —Sylvain's underground palace of pleasure and danger.

The club sprawled beneath the streets of Paris like a secret kingdom. Centuries-old stone arches framed the massive space, their rough-hewn surfaces juxtaposed with gleaming chrome fixtures and state-of-the-art lighting. Crystal chandeliers hung alongside industrial steel beams, the marriage of opulence and urban decay creating a disorienting yet seductive atmosphere.

The dance floor pulsed with bodies moving to music that seemed to emerge from the walls themselves. Private alcoves lined the periphery, each one shrouded in velvet curtains the color of dried blood. Patrons sipped from crystal flutes containing liquids worth more than most people earned in a month. Beautiful servers in tailored black uniforms navigated the crowd with practiced precision, their faces carefully blank, eyes forward, trained never to linger on conversations not meant for their ears.

Armed guards stood at strategic points throughout the venue, their presence both warning and promise. Come if you dare. Obey and dance to see another night. Defy and tomorrow shall never come .

A table on the mezzanine reserved for Sylvain's exclusive use awaited him. It overlooked the dance floor behind glass walls, and his staff had everything ready when he arrived.

His favorite drink. His weapon of choice, should the occasion call for it. And his view of the entire club unobstructed, if all he wished to do was observe.

All this, without Sylvain having to say a word, his empire functioning with the precision of a Swiss timepiece.

" Monsieur? " Noel had received a call from the concierge. "The Minister of Finance wishes to speak to you."

"I'll call him tomorrow."

" Compris, monsieur. " That his master did not place any importance in speaking to government officials was none of his business. No one questioned Sylvain, not if they wished to remain in his orbit.

Sylvain's attention returned to la fille . To see her in the flesh, at work, was enthralling. The man she was speaking to was one of Paris's wealthiest industrialists, but her manner toward him was a mesmerizing mix of confidence and charm, with not a hint of cunning or greed...even if Sylvain had just witnessed her steal the man's watch in the blink of an eye.

Mauvais coup, ma jolie. Wrong move, my lovely.

He continued to study her in silence even when her actions had already sealed her fate. Her dress was cheap yet well-chosen, highlighting curves that the camera had failed to capture. Her hair fell in dark waves past her shoulders, catching blue highlights from the ambient lighting.

But it was her eyes, however...

Even from this distance, her dark blue eyes enslaved. Sylvain was used to seeing euro signs in most women's eyes. But in Liana's, even when she proved to be the most proficient pickpocket, all he saw was intelligence and cleverness. Strategic without being calculating. Pragmatic without being ruthless. Innocent despite her lawless ways.

C'est intriguant. How intriguing.

Sylvain watched as she moved to another target, this time touching the man's arm, her fingers lingering just long enough to establish connection while her other hand drifted casually near his wrist. Where his watch would be.

His darling little thief was good. Very good . If Sylvain hadn't been looking for it specifically, he might have missed the sleight of hand entirely.

He noticed Noel's alarm at the speed with which la fille was stealing from their clientele, and it almost made him smile.

Almost .

"Let her work," Sylvain murmured. "I want to see her technique."

"And if the clients were to notice their possessions missing, monsieur?"

"Assure them that it is being handled, and they will have them back within 24 hours."

" Compris, monsieur ." Noel's face remained expressionless despite his growing curiosity. Criminals stupid enough to target any of his master's clientele were usually dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. But clearly, la fille was different.

Time passed.

Sylvain kept waiting for himself to lose interest and grow bored. But watching Biancardi's half-sister only achieved the opposite, with la fille proving to be more interesting by the minute.

A young and beautiful girl, choosing a life of crime to save a loved one.

In Liana's case, a mother racking up hospital bills as they waited for a miracle that was unlikely to come. No matter what doctors said, donor matches were not for free. Money was still needed to cut through all the red tape, and without it, her mother would inevitably die.

Her story was tragic...but not uncommon. Sylvain had known many other girls like her, and none of them had moved his heart. Frankly, he didn't even believe he still had a heart. And it was why, at the start, he had not meant to get involved.

When he received Biancardi's letter, Sylvain had simply intended to choose his most trusted men to guard her, incognito. They would never interfere in the way she lived. They would eliminate whatever threats arose without her being aware of it.

But after seeing how she was in real life?

Plus maintenant. Not anymore.

The longer he watched her, the deeper he fell under her thrall. He would not be able to keep his distance.

C'était impossible. It was impossible.

And in any case, he was simply honoring the blood debt he owed to her brother. Biancardi wanted her safe, n'est-ce pas? And surely there was no better way to protect la fille than to claim her as his bride?

His gaze settled back on his darling little thief, who continued to work the room with stealth and grace. If she had been anyone else, she would be dead by now. She had to know she was playing with fire, stealing in his territory. To be this brazen, she was either stupid...or desperate.

Sylvain took a sip of his wine as he watched his Liana move to her next mark, an American who was as wealthy as he was clueless. His gaze narrowed as his little pickpocket adopted a different persona: a girl who was quick to smile, her posture trusting, her eyes full of innocence.

He knew the exact moment she could have stolen the man's watch. But chose not to. And when he saw her bite her lip, something dark and possessive twisted inside his chest.

Mauvais coup. Encore. Wrong move. Again.

His darling little thief would soon learn that she was not allowed to feel tender towards any man. Not unless she was fine with having that man's blood on her hands. Her choice, not his.

Sylvain glanced at his security chief, and Noel, having watched the same scene unfold, simply nodded and spoke the necessary instructions into his earpiece. Within thirty seconds, a waiter appeared, whispering something to the American that had him excusing himself hastily from Liana's company.

La fille frowned slightly, glancing around with a wariness that spoke of years spent looking over her shoulder. A moment later, she simply shrugged this off and moved on.

"She's resilient," his security chief observed.

No , Sylvain thought. She was not just resilient. If he had to choose a word, it would be...

Magnifique.

He continued watching as she worked the room, her movements economical yet fluid. She marked her targets with precision—wealthy men traveling alone, preferably those who'd had enough to drink to dull their awareness but not enough to become belligerent.

After an hour, she'd managed to acquire what appeared to be two watches and possibly a wallet. No mark had noticed. No security had intervened. She was a ghost, slipping through his carefully guarded establishment as if the rules that bound others didn't apply to her.

And with every theft, he found himself falling dangerously deeper under her thrall, his desire for her now a dark and feral obsession.

"We have received our first complaint, monsieur."

"You know what to do."

"And la fille ?"

"She is not to be disturbed," Sylvain murmured. "I wish to see how many she's able to acquire in one night."

"And after, monsieur ?"

"I'll take her." The words almost had Noel doing a double take. Almost . And in turn, seeing his normally unflappable security chief betray himself almost made him smile. Almost . In their world, emotions were but a string of almosts, never to see the light of day.

And yet...

La fille made Sylvain feel again, and the realization set him on edge.

He was but a callow youth the first and last time he had felt such possessiveness towards a woman. He had thought he had outgrown such needs. But he was mistaken, clearly, with how merely watching his darling little thief move through his domain had his powerful body already hungry for her flesh.

He had thought Annie's betrayal had killed this part of him. It would have been better for both of them if that were the case, and she was but a passing fancy.

If only.

Sylvain watched her slip in and out of the shadows, her every move exquisitely deceptive, every stolen valuable the product of criminally good craftsmanship. He watched her trail her fingers over another mark's arms. Such lovely, elegant fingers. He had no trouble imagining her using those fingers as she played the piano. Or struggling as she did her best to wrap those same fingers around the throbbing evidence of his arousal.

"Have the car ready," Sylvain said abruptly. "And inform Judge Grimault he'll be needed at once."

This time, Noel did not even bother trying to hide his surprise. " Monsieur —"

His master raised a brow, and Noel knew better than to continue.

"As you wish, monsieur ."

Sylvain leaned back against his seat as he watched his Liana slip a diamond cufflink into her clutch before making her way toward the exit.

"Have the warehouse ready as well," he decided.

"For la fille ?" Noel asked.

" Oui ."

By morning, his Liana would be his.

And in return, his darling little thief would give him something Sylvain hadn't realized he was missing until he saw her tonight.

A queen worthy of his empire.