Read Online Billionaire's Runaway Princess by Mia Caldwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mia Caldwell
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chest, she looked for another way out of the library, but each door she encountered was locked. There was only one thing to do. Keeping her head down, she walked briskly to the front door.
“There!” the librarian shouted, and she and the guard rushed toward Marisol. She dashed out of the door with the two running after her. Marisol’s heart pounded in her chest as she made her escape. She looked around frantically for the Lincoln and finally saw it ahead on the left-hand side of the street. With her feet slapping the New York pavement, she made the car and jumped in, breathing hard.
“Are you okay?” asked Jerry with concern in his eyes, peering at her from his rearview mirror.
“Yes. Can we please go to Munson’s Coffee House?”
***
Marisol didn’t know what to expect when she walked into the coffeehouse. Its lighting was dark, and a brooding atmosphere permeated the space. Against the back wall was a wood service counter where a young man stood waiting to take orders. A few people sat at scattered tables, but it generally seemed a place that didn’t get much business.
She scanned the room, but saw no one that was a candidate for her uncle. A couple of Asian boys sat huddled over a computer, and a woman in torn jeans sipped a cup of coffee while reading a book.
On the right was a bank of leather booths, so she took one with a good view of the front door. To the right of the double door was a large television suspended from the ceiling. A news channel was playing. Although the sound was off, closed captions ran at the bottom. A picture of Marisol popped up on the screen behind a reporter. Closed captions ran with the reporter’s commentary.
Princess Marisol Duvaingnon of Dalaysia, twenty-one, is still missing. She disappeared last night from the Grand Wedgewood Hotel during a state dinner celebrating her engagement with Prince Tristan Vattakov of Kriegov, a small, independent state that was once part of the Soviet Union. While police report no clues in the disappearance of the princess, sources inside the The Grand Wedgewood Hotel report a server is being questioned in connection with Princess Marisol’s disappearance. Allegedly, the server was found with several items belonging the to princess, though at this time no charges have been filed. At this time, law enforcement has not stated they suspect foul play, but due to the high-profile nature of this case, the investigation is ongoing. Local and federal law enforcement are working closely with Dalaysian and Kreigov security in following up on leads provided through a tip line set up by the NYPD. Please call 555–780-0000 if you have any information that will assist in the investigation.
Marisol hung her head. Her father must be worried sick. Plus all these people were looking for her, diverting time and resources from the cases that needed their help. She resolved to get a message to her father as soon as she could and let him know searching for her was unnecessary.
The door opened with the ring of a bell overhead, and a black man walked in. Her breath caught in her throat. Though aged and with graying hair, the man was the spitting image of her mother. She rubbed her arms while she took a deep breath. The man walked haltingly to the counter and spoke to the barista, who frowned before he prepared a cup of coffee for him.
Marisol watched each movement he made, torn between walking up and introducing herself and flying out the door. She had never met this man, and he’d been around Marisol’s age when her mother left New York to fly off to Dalaysia with a crown prince.
He turned with coffee in-hand, looking over the room until he spotted Marisol. His eyes narrowed, and he approached Marisol’s booth.
“You,” he hissed when he got close enough. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for family,” she said.
“Well, you gave that up when you left. What the hell do you want now?”
Marisol was confused. What was he talking
“There!” the librarian shouted, and she and the guard rushed toward Marisol. She dashed out of the door with the two running after her. Marisol’s heart pounded in her chest as she made her escape. She looked around frantically for the Lincoln and finally saw it ahead on the left-hand side of the street. With her feet slapping the New York pavement, she made the car and jumped in, breathing hard.
“Are you okay?” asked Jerry with concern in his eyes, peering at her from his rearview mirror.
“Yes. Can we please go to Munson’s Coffee House?”
***
Marisol didn’t know what to expect when she walked into the coffeehouse. Its lighting was dark, and a brooding atmosphere permeated the space. Against the back wall was a wood service counter where a young man stood waiting to take orders. A few people sat at scattered tables, but it generally seemed a place that didn’t get much business.
She scanned the room, but saw no one that was a candidate for her uncle. A couple of Asian boys sat huddled over a computer, and a woman in torn jeans sipped a cup of coffee while reading a book.
On the right was a bank of leather booths, so she took one with a good view of the front door. To the right of the double door was a large television suspended from the ceiling. A news channel was playing. Although the sound was off, closed captions ran at the bottom. A picture of Marisol popped up on the screen behind a reporter. Closed captions ran with the reporter’s commentary.
Princess Marisol Duvaingnon of Dalaysia, twenty-one, is still missing. She disappeared last night from the Grand Wedgewood Hotel during a state dinner celebrating her engagement with Prince Tristan Vattakov of Kriegov, a small, independent state that was once part of the Soviet Union. While police report no clues in the disappearance of the princess, sources inside the The Grand Wedgewood Hotel report a server is being questioned in connection with Princess Marisol’s disappearance. Allegedly, the server was found with several items belonging the to princess, though at this time no charges have been filed. At this time, law enforcement has not stated they suspect foul play, but due to the high-profile nature of this case, the investigation is ongoing. Local and federal law enforcement are working closely with Dalaysian and Kreigov security in following up on leads provided through a tip line set up by the NYPD. Please call 555–780-0000 if you have any information that will assist in the investigation.
Marisol hung her head. Her father must be worried sick. Plus all these people were looking for her, diverting time and resources from the cases that needed their help. She resolved to get a message to her father as soon as she could and let him know searching for her was unnecessary.
The door opened with the ring of a bell overhead, and a black man walked in. Her breath caught in her throat. Though aged and with graying hair, the man was the spitting image of her mother. She rubbed her arms while she took a deep breath. The man walked haltingly to the counter and spoke to the barista, who frowned before he prepared a cup of coffee for him.
Marisol watched each movement he made, torn between walking up and introducing herself and flying out the door. She had never met this man, and he’d been around Marisol’s age when her mother left New York to fly off to Dalaysia with a crown prince.
He turned with coffee in-hand, looking over the room until he spotted Marisol. His eyes narrowed, and he approached Marisol’s booth.
“You,” he hissed when he got close enough. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for family,” she said.
“Well, you gave that up when you left. What the hell do you want now?”
Marisol was confused. What was he talking
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