hair. He probed the lock by feel, his big hands surprisingly gentle as he worked the picks, intense focus etched on his handsome face.
No, not handsome, she amended. His features were too strong for that, his nose a little too crooked. He was … virile. Blatantly and unapologetically male. She skimmed the cords of his sinewed neck, the impossible breadth of his shoulders, the black beard scruff shadowing his jaw.
She experienced a wayward thrill.
She stiffened, shocked. She could not be attracted to this man. He was a thief, a common criminal. And she’d worked far too hard to subdue her wild streak to backslide into temptation now.
The lock gave way. Motioning for her to be quiet, Dante rose and cracked open the door. He listened for a moment, his ear to the small opening, then signaled for her to follow. Trying to keep her mind off Dante and on the job she needed to do, she slipped inside.
A feeling of wrongness instantly struck her. She glanced around the penthouse, intense dread gathering at the base of her spine, but nothing appeared out of place. Moonlight filtered through the deep-set windows. A profound stillness gripped the suite, assuring her that they were alone. She scanned the grand piano rising like a phantom in the moonlight, a huge dining-room table with high-backed medieval chairs.
Of course she’d feel jittery. She’d never committed a crime before. What did she expect?
“What are you looking for?” Dante asked, his voice low.
She opened her mouth to tell him, then stopped. The blackmailer was targeting her brother. It was Tristan’s secret to reveal, not hers.
Impatience flashed in Dante’s eyes. “Look, Princess. We’ve only got a few minutes until the power comes on, and I don’t intend to be here when it does.”
She couldn’t afford to get caught, either. And two people could search faster than one. “I’m looking for a computer disk.”
“What’s on it?”
His blunt question caught her off guard. “Does it matter?”
“If I’m going to steal something, I’d like to know why.”
“We’re not stealing. Not really,” she added when he shot her a look of disbelief. “It’s footage from a surveillance camera. It has something … incriminating on it. Blackmail evidence.”
Dante snorted.
She blinked, his skepticism taking her aback. “You don’t believe me?”
“Hardly.”
“But … why not?”
“Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why. Why would anyone blackmail you? Your reputation’s already bad.”
His obvious disdain made her face burn, but she couldn’t argue his point. The tabloids had bad-mouthed her for years—and rightfully so. She’d made so many mistakes since childhood that País Vell’s citizens despised her now.
And no matter how hard she tried to redeem herself—no matter how many charities she funded, no matter how many hours she volunteered each week at the royal hospital, doing everything from fundraising and reading to patients, to entertaining the children in the pediatric ward—she couldn’t change their minds.
Which was exactly why she was here. She knew better than anyone the damage a bad reputation could do. And she refused to let that happen to her brother, Tristan, the heir to País Vell’s throne.
She raised her chin. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m trying to stop a blackmailer, whether you want to believe me or not. Now, I suggest we get to work.”
Dante didn’t move. His gaze stayed clamped on hers, his skepticism clear. Then his eyes shifted to her mouth and heated with sensual awareness, making her pulse go berserk.
So he felt the attraction, too.
But his mouth hardened into a scowl. “Have it your way, Princess.” He slapped the penlight into her hand. “You check the cabinets. I’ll look for a safe. Did you bring gloves?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out breathless. Her heart racketing around her rib cage, she pulled a pair of leather gloves from her back pocket and put them on. Wrong man. Wrong time. Definitely the wrong place, she reminded herself sternly. She had to concentrate on finding that computer disk, not let her unruly hormones lead her astray—no matter how compelling Dante was.
He disappeared into the shadows. Still badly rattled, she forced her attention to the suite. Starting at the nearby wet bar, she searched the liquor cabinet and cupboards, then continued around the room. The dining area yielded nothing. Neither did the sideboard, the closet in the spacious bedroom or the bedside table drawers. Kneeling, she shone the penlight under the bed. Nothing, not even dust.
Her desperation growing, she rose. That computer disk had to be here, and she had to find it tonight. But she was fast running out of time.
She spotted Dante searching the office and headed his way, catching up with him at Gomez’s desk. “I doubt he’d keep it here,” she said, but she rifled through a drawer, just in case. “It’s too obvious.”
“You’d be surprised what people do. Half the time they install safes, then don’t even bother to put their valuables inside.”
She paused at that, his words a stark reminder that she hardly knew this man. She knew he owned a small stonemasonry business on the edge of town. He was supposedly a thief, which his actions tonight confirmed. She’d even heard rumors that he might be El Fantasma, the Ghost, a modern-day Robin Hood who plagued the aristocrats of País Vell. And he’d spent the past two weeks locked up in the royal prison, although with his arrest record oddly missing, no one seemed to know why.
She shook her head. Dante’s background didn’t matter, not with that damaging surveillance footage threatening the security of País Vell. But neither could she afford to discount his expert advice. In case Gomez had left the incriminating evidence in the open, she fished a plastic bag from his wastepaper basket, then scooped up every flash drive and computer disk she spotted, no matter what their labels said.
“I need the light,” Dante said from across the room. He swung aside a wall painting, exposing a safe.
He’d found it. Relief spiraling through her, she rushed around the desk.
“Aim it at the keypad,” he added.
Moving in even closer, she complied. But standing this near, the heat from his muscled body teasing her senses, she couldn’t keep her gaze off him. She skimmed his short, tousled hair, the grooves bracketing his sensual mouth, the black beard shadow coating his throat. Another shimmer of awareness fluttered through her, and she dragged in a calming breath. There was something riveting about this man, something that appealed to her in a basic, primal way.
Something she had no business indulging in right now.
Not ever. She’d put an end to her rebellious streak and sworn off inappropriate men. She had a duty to her country to fulfill.
Dante’s long, lean fingers tapped the keypad. The safe popped open, and he edged the door
