“Nein,” I said, shaking my head. “She doesn’t need a doctor. She needs a miracle.” I blew out a chuckle as I stared down at the beautiful woman still unconscious in my arms.
The only reason I’d even seen the thief rob her was because I’d been watching her already. She’d caught my attention the moment she stepped into the town square, and I’d followed at a respectable distance, practically entranced by her.
Had I been closer, I’d have been able to stop the man from stealing her things, but I’d been nervous to approach, unsure what I would even say to her.
Now look at us. Prone on the ground together, her possessions most likely gone forever, being comforted by a strange man who’d essentially stalked her across the entire market.
The woman’s eyes blinked open, and her brow furrowed as she stared up at me. Then, as she clearly started to remember what had happened, her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip began to tremble softly.
“It will be okay,” I promised her.
“No it won’t,” she said, her glistening eyes narrowing in anger. “My life was in that purse.” She scrambled to stand up and I moved to assist her, but she pulled away from me. “I have to fly back in three days, and I don’t even know how to get home without my passport.”
“Do you have copies you could take to the Embassy?” I asked, desperately trying to be helpful.
“I do,” she said, laughing bitterly. “They’re in my luggage. Which the airline lost. I can’t even check into my hotel. I have no money. I have—”
She started to hyperventilate, and I stepped forward again, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“You will come with me,” I insisted. “We’ll figure this out together.”
“I don’t even know you,” she said, shaking her head. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?”
“Essie can vouch for me,” I offered, pointing to Essie who was smiling widely at us over the table, having returned to stand behind her stall.
“Herr Gruber is not a killer,” Essie said firmly. “He ist ein milliardär philanthrop.”
“He’s what?” the woman asked, shaking her head.
Thank God for Essie’s broken ass English. This poor woman had been through enough without having to deal with the fact that her rescuer-slash-stalker was a billionaire philanthropist who was almost as famous as Queen Elizabeth had been throughout Europe.
“I’m a businessman,” I said firmly. “And I’m very active in this community. My family has lived here for generations and if you’d like character witnesses, I could find a few more for you.”
“This is fucking crazy,” the woman muttered. “Sorry. I just…I’m a little overwhelmed.”
“I would imagine,” I agreed. “What is your name?”
“Hannah,” she answered with a sigh. “Hannah Montgomery.”
“You are American, yes?” I clarified.
“Yes,” she said.
“Okay.” I clapped my hands and smiled at her. “We will take you to my home, where you can freshen up and maybe having something to eat. Then we’ll see about getting your luggage found, finding a replacement phone and getting you set to rights.”
“Why would you help me?” she asked cautiously.
“I like to help people,” I answered honestly. “It’s kind of what I do.”
“What’s your name?”
“Hezekiah Gruber,” I told her with a smile. “But you may call me, Hez.”
“Right,” she said, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, Hez…since you’re so keen to ride to my rescue, could I ask a specific favor?”
“Anything,” I promised her.
“Would you mind paying Essie for the loaf of stollen?”