Her Return to King's Bed. Maureen Child

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      Which meant that those seeking privacy had nothing to fear from paparazzi, except for the occasional overachiever who used telephoto lenses from a boat anchored far offshore.

      Tesoro was lush and secluded, and the Castle was like Disneyland for adults: there were infinity pools, the best spas in the world and sweeping ocean views from every room. The hotel had deliberately been built small, to keep it a select destination. There were only a hundred and fifty rooms, not counting the private bungalows scattered across the grounds. The interiors were opulent, service was impeccable and the island itself carried an air of dreamy seduction. For those who could afford it, Tesoro promised a world of languid pleasures for all of the senses.

      And damned if Rico was going to allow his hotel’s reputation to be stained. If there was a professional thief operating in his place, then that thief would be found.

      “Security cameras?” Rico demanded.

      “Nothing.” Franklin scowled as if the word tasted bitter. “Another reason to go with the professional thief theory. Whoever it was, they knew how to bypass the cameras.”

      Perfect.

      “Set up a meeting with your men. I want eyes and ears everywhere. If you need to hire more security,” Rico said, “call my cousin Griffin. King Security can have more men here tomorrow if we need them.”

      Franklin bristled. He’d once worked for Griffin King and his twin, Garrett, and had decided to leave in favor of being chief of security here on the island. He clearly didn’t care for the suggestion that there might be something he couldn’t handle. “I won’t need more men. The team I’ve got is the best in the world. Now that I know we’re looking for a pro, we’ll find him.”

      Rico nodded. He understood pride and he knew that Franklin’s had been pricked. He was in charge and having a professional thief on the grounds was a direct slap in the face. But pride notwithstanding, if Rico decided they needed more help, Franklin would get extra men whether he liked it or not.

      This hotel had been Rico’s dream. Built to his exact specifications by King Construction, the Tesoro Castle was the epitome of luxury hotels. He’d been working toward this project for all of his adult life. He owned several hotels and each in its own way was spectacular. But this place on Tesoro was his crowning achievement. He’d do whatever he had to do to protect his name and his investment.

      Shaking his head in irritation, Rico turned and stared out his office window at the view spread out below him. The island of Tesoro, Spanish for “treasure,” was aptly named.

      Miles of unspoiled beaches, aquamarine ocean, thick jungles with amazing waterfalls hidden away in the stands of trees. Sunshine every damn day and unlike most of the Caribbean, the trade winds blew across Tesoro almost constantly, keeping the heat—and flying insects—at bay.

      Rico had spent months with Walter Stanford, negotiating for his own slice of the old man’s paradise. Hell, he’d even had some of his cousins come in and talk to the older man for him. Of course, Rico mused, that had worked out for Sean King, since he’d married Walter’s granddaughter Melinda.

      After the negotiations, the months spent building this place and the time and expense of furnishing and staffing this hotel to get it just right...irritation blossomed into quietly restrained fury. No one was going to ruin this place.

      His guests came to Tesoro looking for beauty, privacy and security and he would see that they got it.

      Just the thought of jewel thieves on the island had him gritting his teeth and flexing his hands into fists that had no one to punch. He supposed it was only natural that thieves would find their way here to Tesoro, where the rich flocked in droves. Just as it was natural that when he found whoever was behind this, he’d see them locked away for decades.

      But a professional thief risked a lot to make a play on Tesoro. The island was too small. Too difficult to get to and to leave from. And since no ships had left the harbor in days, whoever the thief was, he was still on the island and he still had the stolen property on him.

      Jewel thieves.

      Suddenly, those two words began to echo over and over again in his mind as warning bells started clanging inside his head. Even then, though, Rico assured himself that the little voice inside his head had to be wrong.

      No way would she risk that.

      Not even she would have the nerve to chance facing him again.

      But what if she had?

      “Boss?”

      “What?” Rico glanced over his shoulder at Franklin.

      “You want me to contact Interpol about this?”

      The international police force with hundreds of member countries didn’t make arrests or have its own jail, but it could and did provide much-needed data on suspected thieves, killers and just about any crime imaginable.

      “No,” he said, ignoring the look of surprise on his head of security’s face. Instead, he turned back to look out the window over the playground he’d built for the rich and famous. Rico’s brain was racing with possibilities and his adrenaline surged at the idea that he just might be at the threshold of the revenge he’d waited five years to take.

      No chance in hell he’d bring Interpol into this before he knew whether or not his gut instinct was right or not.

      “We’ll handle it on island,” he said, never taking his gaze from the horizon, where the sunlight glinted off the water in bright shards. “Once we’ve got the thief, we’ll decide what to do then.”

      “Your call,” Franklin said, then he left, closing the office door behind him.

      “Yeah, it is,” Rico told himself aloud. And if this jewel thief turned out to be the woman who’d stolen from him once before...Interpol would be lucky if there was anything left of her to hand over.

      * * *

      “Papa, please. Leave now before it’s too late.” Teresa Coretti glanced from her father to the closed door of his suite and back again.

      She was so anxious just being here on Tesoro, even her nerves had nerves. But she’d had to come. The moment she’d realized where her father and brother had gone on their supposed vacation, Teresa had had no choice.

      “How can I leave?” her father asked with an exaggerated shrug and a smile. “I’ve not finished my holiday.”

      Holiday.

      If only.

      If Nick Coretti was really taking a sabbatical from his avocation, no one at the Tesoro Castle would have lost any of their possessions. No, her father could call this a holiday if he wanted to, but the truth was he was working. As he always was.

      Dominick was a shorter, older, Italian version of George Clooney. His tan was permanent, and his sharp brown eyes missed nothing. His black hair was gray-streaked, but that only seemed to give him an air of distinction. He was polished and always a gentleman. He had been a faithful husband until Teresa’s mother’s death ten years ago.

      Since then, he had used his considerable charm to smooth his way into high society, where, СКАЧАТЬ