before?”
“Our fathers were longtime friends and business partners. Her father extracted a
promise from our father that if anything should ever happen to him that Isabella would be
looked after. Our father preceded her father in death, so I assumed responsibility for her
welfare when her father also passed away.”
“Then you should know that, according to this letter, she’s arriving in New York
two days from now,” Theron said.
Chrysander cursed. “I can’t leave Marley right now.”
“Of course you can’t,” Theron said impatiently. “I’ll take care of it. But I need
details. The last thing you need right now is to be saddled with another concern. New
York is my responsibility. I’ll count this as yet another problem I’ve inherited when we
traded offices.”
“Bella won’t be any problem. She’s a sweet girl. All you need to do is help her
settle her affairs and make sure her needs are provided for. She doesn’t gain full control
of her inheritance until she’s twenty-five or she marries, whichever happens first, so in
the meantime Anetakis International acts as the trustee. As you are now the New York
representative of Anetakis, that makes you her guardian of sorts.”
Theron groaned. “I knew I should have bloody well made Piers take over the New
York office.”
Chrysander laughed. “This will be a piece of cake, little brother. It shouldn’t take
you long at all to make sure she’s settled and has everything she needs.”
Isabella Caplan had no sooner made it past the airport security checkpoint when
she saw a man in a chauffeur’s uniform holding a sign with her name on it.
She held up a hand in a wave and made her way over. To her surprise, two other
men stepped forward to flank her. Her confusion must have showed because the
chauffeur smiled and said, “Welcome to New York, Ms. Caplan. I’m Henry, your driver
for today, and these gentlemen are from Mr. Anetakis’s security detail.”
“Uh, hi,” she said.
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THE TYCOON’S REBEL BRIDE
3
MAYA BANKS
SILHOUETTE DESIRE 1944
THE ANETAKIS TYCOONS
“I’ve arranged for someone to collect your luggage from baggage claim,” Henry
said as he herded her toward the exit. “It will be delivered to the hotel shortly.”
Outside, one of the security men held the limousine door open for her then got in
after her, while the second climbed into the front seat with Henry. Privacy wasn’t in the
cards, and what she really wanted to do was wilt all over her seat.
Isabella leaned back as the limousine pulled away from the passenger pickup area
en route to Imperial Park, the hotel owned by the Anetakis brothers. Chrysander had
arranged a suite anytime she visited New York, not that it had occurred often.
This trip had been planned as nothing more than a brief stopover on her way to
Europe, a fact she’d apprised Chrysander of in her correspondence. All of that had
changed the minute she’d received a terse missive from Theron Anetakis informing her
that he was now overseeing her affairs, and he would meet briefly with her in New York
to make sure she had everything she needed for her trip abroad.
He didn’t know it yet, but her trip was a thing of the past. She was going to stay in
New York…indefinitely.
The limousine pulled up in front of the hotel and ground smoothly to a halt. Her
door opened, and the security guard who’d ridden in front extended his hand to assist her
out. Once inside the lobby, she was ushered immediately to her suite, bypassing the front
desk altogether.
Within ten minutes, her luggage was delivered to her room along with a bouquet
of flowers and a basket filled with an assortment of snacks and fruits.
If that wasn’t enough, just as she settled onto the couch to kick off her shoes and
catch her breath, another knock sounded. Grumbling under her breath, she went to open
the door and found another hotel employee standing there. He extended a smooth, cream-
colored envelope.
“A message from Mr. Anetakis.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Which Mr. Anetakis?”
The young man looked discomfited. “Theron.”
She smiled, thanked him and then closed the door. She turned the envelope over
and lightly ran her finger over the inscription on the front. Isabella Caplan. Had he
written it himself?
Experiencing a moment of silliness, she brought the paper to her nose, hoping to
catch his smell. There. Light but undeniably his scent. She remembered it as though it
were yesterday. He obviously still wore the same cologne.