Page 2 of Steal Me

"Let her work," Sylvain murmured. "I want to see her technique."

"And if the clients were to notice their possessions missing, monsieur?"

"Assure them that it is being handled, and they will have them back within 24 hours."

"Compris, monsieur." Noel's face remained expressionless despite his growing curiosity. Criminals stupid enough to target any of his master's clientele were usually dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. But clearly,la fillewas different.

Time passed.

Sylvain kept waiting for himself to lose interest and grow bored. But watching Biancardi's half-sister only achieved the opposite, withla filleproving to be more interesting by the minute.

A young and beautiful girl, choosing a life of crime to save a loved one.

In Liana's case, a mother racking up hospital bills as they waited for a miracle that was unlikely to come. No matter what doctors said, donor matches were not for free. Money was still needed to cut through all the red tape, and without it, her mother would inevitably die.

Her story was tragic...but not uncommon. Sylvain had known many other girls like her, and none of them had moved his heart. Frankly, he didn't even believe he still had a heart. And it was why, at the start, he had not meant to get involved.

When he received Biancardi's letter, Sylvain had simply intended to choose his most trusted men to guard her, incognito. They would never interfere in the way she lived. They would eliminate whatever threats arose without her being aware of it.

But after seeing how she was in real life?

Plus maintenant. Not anymore.

The longer he watched her, the deeper he fell under her thrall. He would not be able to keep his distance.

C'était impossible. It was impossible.

And in any case, he was simply honoring the blood debt he owed to her brother. Biancardi wanted her safe,n'est-ce pas?And surely there was no better way to protect la fille than to claim her as his bride?

His gaze settled back on his darling little thief, who continued to work the room with stealth and grace. If she had been anyone else, she would be dead by now. She had to know she was playing with fire, stealing in his territory. To be this brazen, she was either stupid...or desperate.

Sylvain took a sip of his wine as he watched his Liana move to her next mark, an American who was as wealthy as he was clueless. His gaze narrowed as his little pickpocket adopted a different persona: a girl who was quick to smile, her posture trusting, her eyes full of innocence.

He knew the exact moment she could have stolen the man's watch. But chose not to. And when he saw her bite her lip, something dark and possessive twisted inside his chest.

Mauvais coup. Encore. Wrong move. Again.

His darling little thief would soon learn that she was not allowed to feel tender towards any man. Not unless she was fine with having that man's blood on her hands. Her choice, not his.

Sylvain glanced at his security chief, and Noel, having watched the same scene unfold, simply nodded and spoke the necessary instructions into his earpiece. Within thirty seconds, a waiter appeared, whispering something to the American that had him excusing himself hastily from Liana's company.

La fillefrowned slightly, glancing around with a wariness that spoke of years spent looking over her shoulder. A moment later, she simply shrugged this off and moved on.

"She's resilient," his security chief observed.

No, Sylvain thought. She was not just resilient. If he had to choose a word, it would be...

Magnifique.

He continued watching as she worked the room, her movements economical yet fluid. She marked her targets with precision—wealthy men traveling alone, preferably those who'd had enough to drink to dull their awareness but not enough to become belligerent.

After an hour, she'd managed to acquire what appeared to be two watches and possibly a wallet. No mark had noticed. No security had intervened. She was a ghost, slipping through his carefully guarded establishment as if the rules that bound others didn't apply to her.

And with every theft, he found himself falling dangerously deeper under her thrall, his desire for her now a dark and feral obsession.

"We have received our first complaint, monsieur."

"You know what to do."

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