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“It’s her,” a man whispered to another man. “I’m calling it in.”
“I saw her first!” another man yelled, stepping forward. “I’m calling it in.”
“No. I am,” a third man growled. “I know the prince, so he’d like the intel to come from me.”
“Shoveling his walkways don’t count as knowing him, Marvin,” the first man said. “She’s mine.”
“Over my dead body.” The other man stepped closer, and as a whole, the crowd shifted toward her. “I saw her first.”
“No, I did.”
Alicia gasped, unable to do much more than watch in horror as they fought over her as if she were a scrap of meat, and stumbled back, hitting the wall. Holding her hands up, she slid a step sideways toward the doors and said, “Please, everyone calm down. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding. Let me make a few calls, and—”
A huge man who would’ve given an NFL linebacker a run for his money stepped in front of the only exit. “Not happening. Someone—anyone—call it in.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” she cried, edging toward the door again, even though it was clear there was no way she’d be squeezing past the human brick wall blocking it. “Please. You have to believe me!”
“Doesn’t matter. If the prince wants you, he’ll get you.” A woman eyed her nervously. “We don’t ask him questions.”
“Obviously,” Alicia said, shoving her hair out of her eyes. The crowd had formed a circle around her, and despite watching tons of shows with awesome getaways in them, she didn’t possess any skills to make a getaway herself…so she sat back down.
Was this something to do with her business? She’d come here with the blessing of the country’s government. She was here to help.
No, there had to be a miscommunication.
She picked up her phone.
The woman frowned. “What are you doing?”
Ignoring her racing heart—and images of Americans being tortured and never found in foreign countries—she hit the green call button. After two rings, Mrs. Fedorchyk picked up. “Hello?”
Not wasting time, she quickly said, “I’m being illegally detained by the prince, and I have no idea why. The authorities are coming to take me to the palace.”
Through the phone, Mrs. Fedorchyk gasped. “What? Are you okay—?”
“Hey,” the woman snapped, yanking the cell out of her hand and hanging up on her boss. “Enough of that.”
Alicia stood, her heart pounding, and tried to snatch it back. The other woman eluded her. “Give me that back.”
“No.” The lady tucked it in her purse and stepped behind a bear of a man. “It’s the prince’s now.”
Whoever this prince was, he was going to get a piece of her mind the second she met him. Despite her call back home to the only other person in this world who might care what happened to her—on a strictly business level, of course—she didn’t have high hopes of getting out of this mess without meeting him.
And when she did?
He’d find out he messed with the wrong American.
The man who called the castle watched her closely. He talked fast into the receiver, gesturing with his hands, staring at her as if she was the crazy one.
Whatever.
In a situation like this, not that she’d ever been in one, it was best to just stay calm—or so she’d imagined. She sat back down and picked at her croissant, because if she didn’t try to act normal, she’d start crying. And she refused to give them, or their stupid prince, the satisfaction.
“What are you doing?” another man asked.
“Waiting for my ride,” she said drily. “I hope it’s a limo. Surely the prince can’t expect to illegally detain me without providing me with certain luxuries.”
“She’s mad,” the woman whispered, stepping back.
