Stealing Rose Read online

  “Nice dress.”

  A shiver moves down my spine at the sound of the warm, inviting tone. I glance over my shoulder to find a very handsome man standing there, an arrogant smirk on his face as he blatantly scans me from head to toe.

  My smile falls and I straighten my spine. I was tricked by his voice. He sounded flirty and fun, but really he’s just a creeper. Not bothering to say anything, I turn my back to him but he halts my progress, his hand going around the crook of my elbow.

  I glance down at his offending hand on my arm before I lift my head and send him a withering stare. He doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t let me go, either. “Aren’t you Rose Fowler?”

  He has an accent, but I can’t tell from where. The room is filled with a variety of accents and languages; people from all over the world are at this party tonight. “I am,” I say, trying to discreetly pull out of his hold. But his fingers tighten not so discreetly on my flesh and I feel like I’m trapped.

  “I thought so.” He flashes me a smile, but it doesn’t quite meet his dark eyes. Everything about him is dark. His hair, his swarthy complexion, the way he’s looking at me. A ripple of unease washes over me and I glance around, looking for my father, my sister, or preferably Ryder, who’d tell this asshole where to go if I asked him to. “Interesting documentary on your family.”

  “Thank you.” I’m trying to be polite but he’s making it so hard. He pulls me a little closer to him and I’m assaulted by the scent of his strong cologne, put off by the way his fingers smooth over my skin in a seeming caress. “If you could let me go, please. I have someone waiting for me.”

  “Who?” He smiles, his teeth overly white, especially against his dark skin.

  He’s making me angry. “Um, that’s none of your business.”

  “You’re here alone tonight, aren’t you? I saw you on the red carpet.” He tugs so hard on my arm my footsteps falter and I nearly fall into him. “Let’s go have a drink.”

  Politeness flies out the window as I rest my hand against his chest and give him a push. But he doesn’t budge. His fingers are so tight they’re pinching my flesh, and he’ll probably leave a mark. “Let. Me. Go,” I say through clenched teeth, fighting the panic flaring deep within me.

  “You heard the lady,” another man practically growls from behind me, his deep, very pissed-off voice setting every hair on my body on end. “Get your fucking hands off her. Now.”

  The man’s fingers spring away from my arm like someone turned a key and unlocked his hold on me. Backing away with his hands in front of him as if he’s pleading for mercy, he laughs nervously. “Didn’t know she was with you,” he says shakily just before he turns and practically sprints away from us.

  Rubbing my arm, I turn to thank my savior, but the words die on my lips. Dark brown eyes watch me, the man’s demeanor still and silent, his full mouth pulled into a straight line. He’s wearing a black suit, not a tuxedo, and it appears a little frayed around the edges. As if he’s had it for a while and it’s been to the dry cleaner one too many times. Despite the aged suit, he has an elegant yet rough air about him. As if he doesn’t quite belong among this glittering, powerful, and extremely rich crowd.

  “Thank you,” I croak, clearing my throat and feeling like an idiot.

  “Are you all right?” He steps closer, but his presence doesn’t feel threatening. More like protective, what with the look of concern marring his handsome features. His brows are drawn downward and a lock of golden-brown hair hangs over his forehead.

  That I have the sudden urge to push the hair away from his face and test its softness is … crazy.

  “I’m fine.” I offer him a shaky smile, which only makes him frown deeper. “Did you know him?”

  “Never seen him before in my life. But a lot of assholes come to these parties. Cannes is full of them,” he says, sounding disgusted.

  I want to laugh. My savior has no problem being crude and I can appreciate it. At least what he says is real. Most of the people I encounter speak carefully, as if they’re afraid they’ll somehow offend me.

  “Thank you for scaring him away.” I absently rub at my arm, glancing down to see the imprint of the man’s fingers glaring red on my skin.

  “He marked you.” He grabs hold of me, his large hand engulfing mine as he holds my arm out to inspect it. His jaw goes tight and he lifts his head, scanning the room with ruthless efficiency. “I should kick the shit out of him.”

  “It’s no big deal.” My heart is all fluttery at the protective streak this man is displaying and I tell myself to get over it. “It’s already starting to fade. See?”

  Slowly he tilts his head down, his lips parting as he examines my arm. He releases my hand, his thumb smoothing lightly over the imprints, causing gooseflesh to follow in the wake of his touch. “Does it hurt?”

  “No.” I shake my head, watching in fascination as he continues to touch me. His hand is so large, his skin tanned and the pad of his thumb rough. I can’t help but wonder at the difference between the two men. Both of them strangers, yet my reaction to each is so completely different.

  “Good,” he says gruffly, though I can tell he’s not satisfied with my answer. His hand drops away from my arm and I wonder for a moment if he’s going to take off after my so-called assailant, but he remains rooted in place, standing next to me as if he were put on this earth to be my protector for the evening. “Want a drink?”

  “Oh, please.” Before I can tell him what I want, he walks away without another word, his broad-shouldered body cutting a swath through the crowd, and they all part for him obediently. He’s a head taller than the majority of the people in the room, so it’s not difficult to keep tabs on him as he strides toward the bar across the way.

  He doesn’t smile at a soul, doesn’t stop to make pleasant conversation with anyone, either.

  I’m completely fascinated.

  “Who’s the guy?” Violet magically appears at my side, her gaze dropping to my dress, pointedly taking in the slits in my skirt, my thighs playing peek-a-boo whenever I move. “Did you draw him in with the dress or what?”

  “Not everyone is as scandalized with the dress as you are,” I mutter, irritated that she’s ruining my mood. Violet and I are usually on the same side about everything, but the moment I made my appearance at Daddy’s suite before we all went to the premiere together, I knew she wasn’t happy with my choice of attire.

  And that hurt, despite my brave face and carefree attitude. I blame it on the fact that she’s always had a motherly, almost protective attitude toward me. Daddy didn’t like the dress, either, but that’s no surprise. Ryder gave me a high-five with a wicked grin on his face before we left the suite, and I appreciated that. Clung to his approval like some sort of anchor that was saving me from drowning. I needed any show of support to get through tonight.

  You did this to yourself. The only one you have to blame is … you.

  That naggy little voice inside my head needs to shut up.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Violet turns to face me, her expression somber, warning me I’m not going to want to hear what she has to say.

  I barely withhold the sigh that wants to escape when I answer, “Go for it.”

  “You’re reminding me of Lily.” She wrinkles her nose, looking both cute and disgusted. That’s the ultimate low blow, saying I remind her of Lily. I feel like she stabbed me right in the heart. “The flashy outfit, the necklace. Did you know Grandma was going to let you wear it tonight?”

  Ah, is that what this is about? That Grandma let me wear the necklace and not her? Maybe it was stupid, wearing such a dress. The press had shouted at me continuously as we posed on the red carpet. Asking me who designed it, where was Lily, since when did I get so bold. Hardly any of them asked about the necklace.

  I wonder if that made Grandma mad.

  “No, I didn’t,” I answer. “She brought it to me about a half hour before we all met. I had no idea she had it with her.”

&
nbsp; “She mentioned to me she was going to bring it to Cannes a while ago. But I figured she would want Lily to wear it. Since she’s not here …” Violet’s voice trails off.

  “You’re right, she did want Lily to wear it. She also said I reminded her most of Poppy.” I absently drift my fingers across the stones, my thumb smoothing over the largest one set in the center. “So she let me wear it tonight. Said you didn’t need to because you already have your big diamond on your finger.”

  Violet immediately holds her hand out, the diamond catching the light just right and making it sparkle. A little smile curls her lips as she stares at it. “She’s probably right.”

  “I know,” I say dryly, my gaze snagging on my savior, who’s still waiting in line at the bar. His shoulders are terribly broad and he’s so tall. His hair is longish in the back, in dire need of a trim, and he reaches back at the exact moment the thought passes through my mind, scratching at his nape absently before he turns, his gaze meeting mine all the way across the room.

  The look in his eyes renders me completely still. Even my breath stalls in my lungs. I part my lips, the low roar in my ears growing louder, drowning out what Violet’s saying to me, blocking out every little sound until all I can focus on is him.

  He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t smile or lift a brow or wave a hand, no acknowledgment that we’re watching each other. Slowly, the movement so subtle I almost don’t notice it, he works his square jaw, his lips pressing together, his chest rising with his deep inhale. Squinting his eyes, one side of his mouth goes up slightly, the lopsided ghost of a smile appearing before it’s gone.

  In a snap.

  The man turns, his back facing me once more, and I wonder if I imagined it all. Blinking, I tear my gaze from him and turn to my sister, who hasn’t stopped talking. I have no idea what she just said. None.

  All I can think about is the man who saved me.

  And I don’t even know his name.

  Chapter Two

  Caden

  The moment I see the necklace around the wrong sister’s neck, I’m infuriated.

  Pissed.

  Mad as hell.

  Yeah. All that.

  I had a plan and I hate deviating from the plan. I thought Lily Fowler was coming to this premiere. This is one of the biggest moments for the Fowler family and their business. And their oldest daughter isn’t even here with them at the freaking Cannes Film Festival, so what the fuck?

  Not that I thought Lily would be wearing the necklace. I figured it would be Violet. The quiet sister who’s the true force to reckon with at Fleur, the driven one who’s taking the cosmetics company and pushing it forward. I hadn’t considered the new boyfriend, though. That guy never leaves her side and glowers at whoever looks at her with even halfhearted interest.

  It’s freaking Rose Fowler wearing the damn necklace instead. The baby sister, who’s barely old enough to drink legally. The gorgeous-as-hell and completely untouchable sister is wearing a necklace that I heard from inside sources would be featured in the documentary. I have connections. Hell, I have someone who would pay me top dollar if I bring the necklace to him. I’m here in Cannes at his insistence and he sent me here to grab it. We both had a hunch it might be seen tonight, and that’s why I’m here.

  Considering I’d known Lily Fowler in my previous life, I figured I might have an in. Though saying I “know” Lily is a slight exaggeration. We went to school together but I’m younger than her; I was a sophomore when she was a junior. It was my final year there, before the last of the money ran out and I had to finish high school in the public school system, much to my mother’s horror and disgust.

  We never talked, but back then I had a small crush on Lily. I wanted to get close to her for more reasons than one and we hooked up at a party. She was drunk and we clicked instantly, but that wasn’t hard since I’d been in full hustle mode. We talked, we flirted, and next thing I knew, we were making out in a dark corner at the party.

  I would’ve gotten into her panties, too, if she hadn’t passed out in my arms. My crush died a quick death when I realized what a mess she was.

  So I plucked the giant diamond earrings from her lobes instead. Earned a fat amount of money for those stones, too.

  Not that she ever knew. And if she did, she certainly didn’t say anything. There were no news reports, no gossip sites talking about Lily Fowler’s missing diamonds, no police report filed that I know of.

  It was as if the entire matter … never happened. We even spoke a few times after that incident and she acted like she didn’t have a clue what really went down. Confirmation I got away with it.

  Wild.

  That was the first time I’d stolen anything of real value and the high I got from it, how easy it had been, knowing I could give Mom money to help put toward the overdue bills …

  I was hooked.

  And I had an in. I’d grown up with the rich kids. Hell, I used to be one of them. A rich kid, a spoiled-rotten only child who got whatever he wanted from his daddy, with time to kill and money to burn. Until everything was taken away from us, bit by bit, dollar by dollar. Until we were left with nothing.

  So I had to go out and fend for us by helping Mom, because fuck all if my father stuck around and took care of the one woman who stood by his side through everything. All the scandal. All the heartbreak. All the devastation. She never walked away from him—and she had good reason to do so. Instead, she told him everything was going to be all right, as long as they had each other. Yet he still left her.

  Deserted her.

  Abandoned us both.

  Not having Lily here tonight might have thrown me a little, but I ran with it. That’s what I do. If I let every little hitch hold me back, then I would have stopped long ago. Or I would have ended up in prison.

  But nothing keeps me down. I’d come all the way to Cannes to pick up a few items. Came on my friend’s private jet, this asshole I’ve known since we were ten and in private school. I gave him his first joint and that was it. We were bonded for life.

  The guy has so much money he probably shits hundred-dollar bills. But I won’t take from him. I have standards. I don’t steal from my friends.

  People I don’t know? They’re fair fucking game.

  Tonight is open game. The security is loose. The jewels are large and everywhere. The owners of said jewels are careless. More intent on showing off than protecting them, which is fine by me. I’m like a kid in a candy store—I don’t know which way to turn, what to check out next. I want to sample it all, take it all, too, but I need to be discreet. Particular. I need to make the most of this visit and choose the pieces that’ll take us the furthest.

  Like the Poppy Necklace curled around Rose Fowler’s beautiful neck. I want it. So does my contact, an old client I haven’t worked for since forever. I’ve been warned off this guy, but the payout is too large to resist. My fingers literally itch to snatch the necklace off Rose’s neck. But how? It’s not a subtle piece and this won’t be easy.

  But I love a good challenge. I’ve kept my eye on her from the moment I spotted her at the party. Always staying in the background, calculating every which way I could get the necklace from her.

  Then I go and make the biggest mistake of all—becoming heroic and telling that piece of Eurotrash to get his paws off her. I’d been tempted to kick his ass but Rose had stopped me, thank Christ. I don’t know what the hell got into me.

  Fine. I know. Seeing the marks on her skin from his slimy fingers pissed me off. I don’t know her, don’t care to know her, but I get all caveman and ready to defend her honor? Makes no sense. She’s pretty, yeah. Sexy as hell in that damn dress, her long, hot-as-fuck legs on blatant display and fueling my imagination.

  Which I have no business fueling. I’m here for one purpose—and sex isn’t it.

  So I ignored the look we shared when I caught her staring at me from across the room. I broke eye contact first, turning away from her and stepping up to the bar so I could
order us two glasses of Champagne. I then made my way across the room, ignoring everyone, not making eye contact. I don’t want a single person to remember me tonight.

  Yet here I am approaching Rose once more, drink in hand, extended out toward her so she can take it. Her delicate fingers slide against mine when she accepts the glass and the shock I feel at first contact shoots through me like a bolt of lightning.

  White hot and electrifying.

  Her eyes widen the slightest bit and her hand trembles as she lifts the glass to her lips, taking a long swallow. “Thank you for the Champagne,” she murmurs.

  “You’re welcome.” I tip my head toward her and lift my glass, my gaze scanning the room. I see a woman I recognize as being the young plaything to a wealthy film investor wearing a bracelet lined with some of the biggest diamonds and sapphires I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen some pretty damn big stones in my time. She’s waving her arm around, the gems catching the light, mesmerizing me.

  That would be a nice catch. I have a solid inside track with my usual guy who can get me decent cash for high-end stolen goods, no questions asked. It’s amazing what you can make happen when you go looking for it.

  “Do you know her?”

  Rose’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I flick my gaze to her, schooling my expression. “Who?”

  “The woman you’re looking at.”

  Fucking hell. I need to get away from Rose Fowler quick. She’s just too perceptive and during a night when I want no one to notice me, I’m with a woman who’s seeing every little thing I do. Stupid. “No. She just …” I’m grasping for an explanation. “… She reminds me of someone I used to know.” Lies. I need to change the subject quick. “Great movie.”

  “Ah.” She nods and smiles, her gaze wistful. “Thank you. I’m so proud of my grandmother tonight. So you enjoyed the documentary?”

  And now she’s engaging me in conversation. I study her face, the clarity of her light brown eyes as she studies me, her creamy skin, the way her lips move when she talks.

  “I did. Your family has accomplished much in a short amount of time.” My gaze zeroes in on those pretty lips. They’re full, the bottom lip bigger than the top, and the shape reminds me of a sexy pout. Her lips are slicked in this perfect red shade, stark against her otherwise natural appearance.