Read Online To Catch a Princess by Caridad Piñeiro - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caridad Piñeiro
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His father had run out on them when Shea was only a few years old. He barely remembered what the man looked like. His mother had worked herself into an early grave, and at fourteen, Shea had found himself out on the streets, surviving in any way he could, much like one of those mongrel dogs. But he had learned a great deal in all that time, and one of those things was never to let an enemy see you react.
He was certain Prince Sergei was no friend.
He casually picked up his wine glass, leaned back in his chair, and forced his pose to appear relaxed. With a calm smile, he said, “We all carry our crosses, Your Highness. The question is, do we so with honor or complaint? I’ll take honor any day.”
Prince Sergei laughed harshly and stabbed at a piece of duck in the cassoulet. “Honor among thieves? Do you truly believe that’s possible?”
He had up until that moment. After all, hadn’t he just been more honest than caution dictated? But something in the other man’s tone warned him something was up. Something beyond the theft of some jewels the prince coveted because they had at one time belonged to his family. Or rather, to the family that had refused to accept a bastard son like Sergei. Shea suspected the prince had another agenda. Maybe he intended to exact some other kind of revenge on the family gathered there. The deadly kind of revenge.
Not wanting to give away his growing unease, he smiled and said, “I truly do believe, Your Highness.” He held up his glass in a toast. “To honor.”
Prince Sergei seemed surprised for a moment, but then he raised his glass and repeated, “To honor.”
Shea smiled and took another sip of his wine. He had planned on staying in Paris tonight at a very quaint hotel run by a woman who asked no questions when he arrived on her doorstep and knew just how to make the night memorable.
Sadly the vibes coming off the prince warned him not to dawdle in Paris.
Better to get in his car, drop off the bracelet with the fence, and head to Monte Carlo. There was a deal arranged with a private buyer, but if the deal fell through, the Parisian fence could break apart the bracelet into marketable jewelry. In its original form, it would be too difficult to sell to anyone but a discreet private collector. But broken down, the jewels and platinum would bring a nice sum.
As would his final heist in Monaco.
Rising from his seat, he offered his apology. “I must run. I’ve got some errands and I want to prepare for our last assignment together.”
Prince Sergei nodded, visibly annoyed. “Of course, Mr. Smith. I look forward to our next meeting.”
He didn’t rise or offer his hand at Shea’s departure. Shea was, after all, beneath the prince.
That alone spoke volumes about the kind of man the prince was. Obnoxious. Arrogant. Corrupt. Dishonorable.
Shea had no doubt about the latter, which meant he must be very careful on his last assignment. The prince was up to something, he was absolutely certain. He had no idea what it might be, but he could feel it in the very air surrounding the bastard.
Shea had to be on his guard. He didn’t want to end his career with anything less than a clean job. He was the Thief of Hearts, and he meant to go out with his honor and his life intact.
…
After a telephone call where Tatiana gave Alexander a piece of her mind and warned him not to interfere again, she and Peter had arranged a neutral zone of sorts where they could work together, and agreed that any other areas in the suite were private and off limits.
Peter left Tatiana in her off limits section, sat at the shared dining room table in the demilitarized zone, and reviewed some papers. The sound of a popular Top-10 tune was muffled by the thick wood of her closed bedroom door. It reminded him that despite being both a princess and a businesswoman, beneath it all she was just a twenty-five-year-old who liked to have fun. To let her hair down with friends, like Vanessa.
He was satisfied
He was certain Prince Sergei was no friend.
He casually picked up his wine glass, leaned back in his chair, and forced his pose to appear relaxed. With a calm smile, he said, “We all carry our crosses, Your Highness. The question is, do we so with honor or complaint? I’ll take honor any day.”
Prince Sergei laughed harshly and stabbed at a piece of duck in the cassoulet. “Honor among thieves? Do you truly believe that’s possible?”
He had up until that moment. After all, hadn’t he just been more honest than caution dictated? But something in the other man’s tone warned him something was up. Something beyond the theft of some jewels the prince coveted because they had at one time belonged to his family. Or rather, to the family that had refused to accept a bastard son like Sergei. Shea suspected the prince had another agenda. Maybe he intended to exact some other kind of revenge on the family gathered there. The deadly kind of revenge.
Not wanting to give away his growing unease, he smiled and said, “I truly do believe, Your Highness.” He held up his glass in a toast. “To honor.”
Prince Sergei seemed surprised for a moment, but then he raised his glass and repeated, “To honor.”
Shea smiled and took another sip of his wine. He had planned on staying in Paris tonight at a very quaint hotel run by a woman who asked no questions when he arrived on her doorstep and knew just how to make the night memorable.
Sadly the vibes coming off the prince warned him not to dawdle in Paris.
Better to get in his car, drop off the bracelet with the fence, and head to Monte Carlo. There was a deal arranged with a private buyer, but if the deal fell through, the Parisian fence could break apart the bracelet into marketable jewelry. In its original form, it would be too difficult to sell to anyone but a discreet private collector. But broken down, the jewels and platinum would bring a nice sum.
As would his final heist in Monaco.
Rising from his seat, he offered his apology. “I must run. I’ve got some errands and I want to prepare for our last assignment together.”
Prince Sergei nodded, visibly annoyed. “Of course, Mr. Smith. I look forward to our next meeting.”
He didn’t rise or offer his hand at Shea’s departure. Shea was, after all, beneath the prince.
That alone spoke volumes about the kind of man the prince was. Obnoxious. Arrogant. Corrupt. Dishonorable.
Shea had no doubt about the latter, which meant he must be very careful on his last assignment. The prince was up to something, he was absolutely certain. He had no idea what it might be, but he could feel it in the very air surrounding the bastard.
Shea had to be on his guard. He didn’t want to end his career with anything less than a clean job. He was the Thief of Hearts, and he meant to go out with his honor and his life intact.
…
After a telephone call where Tatiana gave Alexander a piece of her mind and warned him not to interfere again, she and Peter had arranged a neutral zone of sorts where they could work together, and agreed that any other areas in the suite were private and off limits.
Peter left Tatiana in her off limits section, sat at the shared dining room table in the demilitarized zone, and reviewed some papers. The sound of a popular Top-10 tune was muffled by the thick wood of her closed bedroom door. It reminded him that despite being both a princess and a businesswoman, beneath it all she was just a twenty-five-year-old who liked to have fun. To let her hair down with friends, like Vanessa.
He was satisfied
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