AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I know that, but what kind of brother hiresyouto track down a twenty-two-year-old princess?’
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Lykos demanded.
‘It means,adelfe mou, I know you.’
‘She is a pampered princess in the midst of a temper tantrum, she’s about as far from my type as possible,’ Lykos growled, indignant at the thought.
‘What are you getting out of it then?’ Theron needled him, clearly aware that Lykos wouldn’t be doing this out of the kindness of his heart. Even the thought of it was laughable. ‘If this has anything to do with Kozlov—’
‘Get back to your drywall, Theron, if that’s what the kids are calling it these days,’ he interrupted, forcing a levity into his tone he didn’t feel in the slightest. It was disconcerting that Theron had identified why he was willing to kidnap a princess.
‘Lykos—’
He hung up the phone before Theron could finish his sentence, knowing his fellow Greek wouldn’t understand the need driving him. Lykos pulled at his cufflinks as he looked up at the four-star Paris hotel where Princess Marit of Svardia intended to get married in little less than half an hour.
‘No amount of dressing up will erase the fact that you are, and always will be, nothing more than a street thief unwanted even by your parents, left to scrabble around for scraps.’
The unwelcome memory of Ilian Kozlov’s words sliced Lykos’s focus in two. He’d come across the Russian when competing for controlling shares in a tech company three years ago. But besting the ‘businessman’ only seemed to inflame the elitist snob. Kozlov had started to come after Lykos’s portfolio and when that hadn’t worked he had crossed the line by impugning Lykos’s reputation. And why? Because Lykos was a threat. He was one of the few men in the world with enough financial acumen and backing to take Kozlov down.
So now Kozlov would have to pay. Personally.
The King of Svardia had finally agreed to sell him the shares Lykos needed to oust Kozlov from his own company. That was, Lykos had decided, the price to be exacted for the Russian’s insult. And all Lykos had to do? Be the thief that Kozlov had accused him of being and steal a princess.
As he entered the hotel, Lykos thought of what he’d read in Theron’s file on André Du Sault. He had enough money in the bank account so generously provided by his rich parents that he could have taken Princess Marit anywhere. The hotel, Lykos supposed as he marched straight past reception as if he were a guest with every right to be there, was quaint. Charming, he’d imagine it being described...but definitely below André’s means.
Lykos added a little more steel to his determination. That was not how to treat a woman. Even if that woman was a spoilt princess who had run away with some university crush. He took the steps of the elegantly curved staircase to where Lykos guessed her suite would be, continuing until he reached the top floor.
‘Monsieur?’
Lykos refused to acknowledge the hotel porter he passed in the corridor.
‘Monsieur!’
His eyes narrowed on the suite at the very end of the hall.
‘Monsieur, arrêtez!Wait,monsieur! You cannot go in there.Monsieur!’
Lykos’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the door and pushed. Standing in front of a mirror in a dress that did absolutely nothing for her figure or colouring was Princess Marit of Svardia. And still she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
It was a moment of pure shock, the realisation turning him to stone. In the space of a single heartbeat he’d taken in everything about her. Blonde hair in angular waves made him think of the way the surf hit the beach at Piraeus. Slashes of crimson across her cheeks, harsh and bright against the pallor of her skin. Eyes, large orbs of hazel with flecks of gold and jade so bright he could see them from across the room. Her mouth, part opened in shock, was somehow the most erotic thing he’d seen in a lifetime of debauchery. He had caught her mid-turn, swamped by tulle, her waist seeming so small he’d be able to cradle it in his hands. But it was the scattering of freckles across her nose that drew him up short, their presence speaking of an innocence he should steer well clear of.
Lykos bit back a curse. Marit was barely twenty-two years old and he ruthlessly marshalled his body’s shocking reaction to her with a severity that was near painful. By the time he’d controlled his startling response he looked up to find that golden flecks had transformed into hissing sparks.
Oh, she wasmad.
Marit turned fully, kicking the skirts out of her way as she did so, fury and fear mixing potently in her blood.
‘I take it my brother sent you?’ she asked. But trying to contain the seething anger only made her sound imperious and she internally cringed as she thought she saw a curl of distaste pull at the man’s lip.
‘He would like you to return to Svardia.’ His accent made her think of salt and money, strangely.
Instinctively she took a step back. ‘I have every intention of doing so, but first—’
‘Unwed,’ the man all but growled, taking a single step towards her, returning the distance to what it had been.
Fire scorched her.No.She couldn’t return to Svardia until she was married. If she was not, then Aleksander would have to choose a husband for her. A stranger. And she couldn’t let that happen.
‘No.’
