The Prince's Cinderella Doc

by Louisa Heaton

  He nodded. ‘Sure. Alex? Come on, now, sweetheart. We must go.’

  ‘But I want to play with the puppy!’

  Krystiana smiled at her. ‘I’m sure Bruno would love it if Alex took him into the garden. I’ve got some bags if he misbehaves.’ She pulled from her handbag a small pouch filled with blue plastic bags.

  Matteo took it. ‘Thanks. Maybe you could join us later? Collect Bruno before my darling daughter wears him out completely.’

  ‘Sure. I’ve got some work to do on my computer first.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see you later.’

  She nodded, anxious to be away. She’d spent the day worrying about their time in the garden that morning. About how pulled towards him she often felt. Was she a moth? Or was she the flame? Either way, allowing herself to get close to Matteo was dangerous. He was a very attractive man and he was far too easy to talk to, far too easy to care about.

  She knew she would fall deeply if she allowed herself. It was a fatal flaw. She was too trusting. And she simply couldn’t allow that. She wanted to love and be loved, but she was scared of it. All the people that she had loved had been lost. And the one person who should have loved her the most had hurt her irreparably.

  Love did something to people. It twisted them in ways they did not expect and there was no guaranteeing who it might happen to. She didn’t want to take any risks with her heart.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’ He picked up Bruno’s lead, and with his daughter began walking the dog away from her.

  And that’s how easy it is, she thought. For you to be discarded. For people to move on and leave you behind.

  Her father had loved her so much he had tried to hide her underground, but now that he was in prison did he ever try to contact her?

  No.

  Some love! And that from the man who should have loved her the most.

  Krystiana did not need to be loved so little or so much that someone wanted to ensnare her. Or lie to her, convincing themselves that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Because they’d be wrong.

  A relationship with an aunt and a dog was as far as she would go. Matteo could be a friend, an acquaintance, and nothing more.

  * * *

  Matteo stood watching his daughter play in her sandbox outside. She had such joy in her face as she scooped sand, trying to make herself a sandcastle and then arranging her carved wooden dinosaurs into position, as if they were protecting it.

  Alex made all her own sound effects, too. ‘Grr...’ she said, and made roaring noises as she stomped them around the base of the castle.

  He couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with his love for her. She was just so perfect. He and Mara might not have been perfect, but their little girl was. As long as she was in his life, then nothing else mattered. She was all he needed and his whole heart was hers. There would never be anyone else and that was okay. She was the most honest person he knew. An open book. He didn’t have to worry about Alex breaking his heart. At least, he hoped not.

  He knelt down, suddenly feeling the need to be close to her. He smiled—because how could he not when he was with his beautiful daughter?

  ‘Are you building a castle? Or a palace?

  ‘A palace.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Like this one?’

  Matteo settled down onto his knees and continued to watch his daughter play. He was so proud of her. Of the way she’d grown so big and strong without his help or influence in her early years. He was so sad that he’d missed them, but he knew that Mara had not let their daughter forget him. His ex and her new love had raised Alex wonderfully. And even though Mara had left him, she’d never taken away his daughter.

  Alberto, his father, wouldn’t have stood and watched idly as Mara took away the future heir to the throne. And it saddened him that his own mother hadn’t lived long enough to see her grandchild grow up. An undiagnosed brain aneurysm had ruptured one evening after she had gone to bed.

  ‘She looks like you when she concentrates.’

  He jumped at the voice and stood up, noticing Krystiana holding on to Bruno’s lead.

  ‘Krystiana. I thought you were still working?’

  ‘I needed some fresh air. Being inside for a few hours always makes me feel this way. It’s so beautiful out here, I’m amazed you ever go back indoors.’

  He nodded. ‘If I could spend my life out here then I would be a very happy man.’

  Kneeling again, he began to build his own sandcastle and situated the dinosaurs around it. He created a small moat and made one of the dinosaurs fall into it. He made an ‘ahh...’ noise as it fell.

  Alex chuckled.

  He and Krystiana shared a smile and he felt something inside him—a warmth he hadn’t felt before, something weird that made his heart pound—and he had to look away from her, focus on what was happening with Alex.

  But he was totally aware of the very second that Krystiana left with Bruno. He momentarily stopped what he was doing and watched her go...

  * * *

  He knew it was late, but she was needed. Now.

  Matteo banged on her door. ‘Krystiana! Are you awake?’

  There were some muffled sounds and then he heard her call out.

  ‘I’m coming—hang on!’

  He waited, aware of the clock ticking onwards and trying his best not to be impatient. When she finally opened the door he tried not to notice her delightful bed-head and sleepy blue eyes. Nor the fact that she wore a short white robe, tied at her waist, revealing very bare, shapely legs.

  ‘A boat has sunk just off the coast, carrying Syrian refugees. There were families on board. Children. A team has been assembled on the beach, and a rescue operation is underway, but as one of the few medics on the island—’

  He didn’t need to say any more. The tiredness was instantly gone from her face and instead it was filled with a determination.

  ‘Give me two minutes!’

  She ran barefoot across her quarters to the bedroom and yanked open the wardrobe, grabbing a pair of jeans, a soft tee shirt and a jacket, and pulled everything on over her pyjamas. At the bottom of her wardrobe, was a bag that she grabbed, and in much less than the two minutes she’d asked for she was ready to go.

  ‘What do you know so far?’

  * * *

  The royal car raced the team of helpers down towards the beach, where an impromptu camp had been set up to appraise and assess the refugees as they were rescued and brought to shore.

  Overhead lights had already been erected, lighting up the coastline, revealing the massive operation already at work. To one side was a tent with a white flag with a red cross on it, and it was to this that she raced.

  Matteo had leapt out of the vehicle when they’d arrived and headed straight across the sand towards a small motorised boat that was waiting to take him out to assist with the rescue. It was such a small island, but she was aware that the royal family had helped out in a crisis before. It made them more beloved of their people, showing that they didn’t just sit behind the protective walls of their palace but that they got their hands dirty and helped out whenever there was a problem.

  Years ago there’d been a small earthquake in Italy, but the tremors and aftershocks had affected Isla Tamoura, bringing down buildings and trapping people in the rubble. Alberto and his son had gone to help there—she could remember seeing it on the news.

  She had to assume he knew what he was doing now and that he was in safe hands. Right now she had patients who were wet and cold and in danger of hypothermia.

  Krystiana entered the tent and was thrilled to see Dr Bonetti already there, assessing a bedraggled patient. Giving him a quick nod of greeting, she got to work to check on patients of her own.

  A woman sat in front of her, huddled in a blanket, shivering. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

  She gave the
woman a reassuring smile and showed her the stethoscope. ‘I’m a doctor. Krystiana. What’s your name?’

  ‘R-Roshan.’

  ‘Roshan? I need to listen to your heartbeat, okay?’ She patted at her own chest and her patient nodded.

  Her chest sounded fine. Her heart-rate was a little fast, but she put that down to the situation. Slowly she tried to communicate with Roshan, explain the examinations she needed to carry out. Blood pressure. Temperature. Pulse. Oxygen saturations. She moved more slowly than she would have liked, but it was important not to frighten this woman any more than she already was.

  Her body had been under huge amounts of stress, but all she found was that Roshan was soaked through, a little dehydrated and also very hungry.

  As the examination went on Roshan began to cry, saying things in Arabic that Krystiana didn’t understand. She seemed to be asking her about something. Pleading. Her words were a cacophony of sounds. What could it be?

  Krystiana could only imagine how scared she was. So far away from her home. A place she’d had to flee from for whatever reason. Was her life in danger? What had she offered the captain of the boat in exchange for her passage? Had she given him everything she had? All her money?

  It made her sick to think about it.

  She gave Roshan an extra blanket, and was just about to check on another patient when Matteo came barging through the tent entrance, a soaked child in his arms.

  Roshan cried out and threw off her blanket. ‘Qamar!’ she screamed.

  Krystiana pointed at an empty cot. ‘Over here.’

  She watched as Matteo carried the child over and carefully laid him on the bed.

  ‘He’s not gained consciousness since we picked him out of the water but he’s breathing. I noticed a lump on the back of his head.’

  ‘Ask Dr Bonetti for warm IV fluids. He’ll show you where they are. And fetch some more blankets.’

  Matteo raced off to do her bidding whilst she examined Qamar and tried to gain venous access.

  He was indeed unconscious, but breathing at a steady rate. The lump on the back of his skull indicated that something had hit him hard, knocking him out, though thankfully she couldn’t feel any fracture, or a break to the skin that would need stitching.

  She peeled him out of his wet clothes—Roshan helping when she realised what Krystiana was doing—and then covered him with the blankets that Matteo brought over.

  ‘I have the IV.’

  ‘I’ve inserted a cannula—let’s get him hooked up.’

  ‘What can I do to help?’ he asked.

  ‘Look after Roshan for me. I think she might be his mother.’

  She got in the cannula and started the warm IV running. Then she checked to make sure he had no other visible wounds or any broken bones. She checked his heart-rate and it was steady and sure, but he was thin and bony and she didn’t know how strong he was. She’d be happier getting him to a major hospital, where they could give his head a scan to make sure there were no brain bleeds or contusions.

  She looked over at Matteo, who was doing his best to communicate with Roshan. His clothes were soaked from carrying Qamar, but he wasn’t complaining. She was so grateful to him. For getting involved like this. She could see that he was doing a wonderful job with Roshan, who now sat beside the bed of her son, clutching her prayer beads and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

  ‘Shukraan! Shukraan...’ she said to them both.

  Krystiana looked at Matteo. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps she’s saying thank you?’

  ‘Maybe. Are there any more?’

  ‘The boats are going to stay out in the bay for a few more hours, but it looks like we got everybody.’

  ‘How many people in total were on that boat?’

  ‘So far, twelve.’

  Twelve people in the water.

  Dr Bonetti came over to greet Matteo and thank him for his assistance.

  ‘What’s the status of the other patients?’

  Dr Bonetti looked grave. ‘Mild hypothermia in some cases. A couple are a little malnourished, but that can be easily sorted out over the next few weeks. One had a dislocated shoulder that I’ve re-sited. We did lose one, though.’

  ‘Who?’ Krystiana asked.

  ‘An old man. The coldness of the water was too much for his heart.’

  She felt awful at the news. What these people must have gone through—trying to find freedom, doing everything they could, even something that was dangerous, to try and achieve it. What must it have been like for them, travelling on that boat, all huddled together without enough rations to go around?

  Had Roshan given up her share of fresh water so that her son would survive the journey? Parents did that, didn’t they? Loved their children so much they would gladly give up their own lives if it meant their child survived. That was what they were meant to do, anyway, if the situation arose. She’d like to think she would do the same thing.

  ‘What’s going to happen to them?’

  ‘We’ll keep them here overnight. Make sure everyone is stable. And then they’ll have to be transferred to hospital—’

  Matteo frowned. ‘They’ll have to go on another boat?’

  ‘We have a shuttle boat that can take them. We’ve used it before—they’ll make it there safely.’

  Matteo frowned. ‘A shuttle boat? I have a ship they could use. It would be larger and more comfortable. Faster, too. I imagine they won’t want to spend much time on the water again.’

  Krystiana looked up at him. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do. I’m just ashamed it’s not more.’

  She smiled at him, her gaze dropping to his wet shirt. ‘You must be freezing. Here—take a blanket.’ She offered him one of the warm blankets from the pile and draped it around his shoulders.

  He looked down at her as she did so. ‘Thank you.’

  Krystiana looked up into his blue eyes and fireworks went off in her belly. Those hypnotic eyes of his...those thick dark eyelashes... His soft, full lips...

  Blinking rapidly, she cleared her throat and looked away. ‘Well, I must get on. Neuro obs and...stuff.’

  Matteo also looked awkward. He nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll go and make arrangements for the ship to escort these people tomorrow.’

  She nodded and turned away, feeling the skin on her face flaming with a heat that she’d never experienced before, her heart pounding, her mouth dry.

  What on earth was happening?

  And why did she feel like this?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHE DIDN’T SLEEP much that night when she got back to the palace. Her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts.

  I’m attracted to Matteo.

  It had to be that. She knew what the first flames of attraction felt like and what she’d felt hadn’t been flames but a raging fire, out of control.

  There’d been another man once. When she’d been at university. Adamo... She’d studied with him and he’d been nice. They’d gone out on a few dates—dinner, dancing—and he’d had the ability to make her laugh.

  She’d begun to think she’d found the one. Something that had started as a slow burn had quickly become a flame. She’d fallen in love with him and, determined to be the one who took control of everything, had asked him to marry her.

  And that was when her world had come crashing down around her ears again. Because he’d said no. He couldn’t marry her. He was already married! Krystiana, to him, had been nothing but a fling.

  It had made her feel used and stupid and ashamed. She had let her attraction to him roar out of control as she’d sought the happiness she felt she deserved, but she’d been a fool!

  It had taken weeks for her to sleep again, to think straight again. It had been as if she’d been thrown back in time to
when nothing made sense and she’d hated that—because she’d always kept herself safe by controlling everything in her life.

  After what had happened with her father—and then Adamo, who had humiliated her—she had vowed to herself never to give her power away again. Never to give her heart to anyone. Because those who had your heart had the power to hurt you and she’d been through enough.

  But this thing with Matteo...she didn’t feel she had a choice. It felt like something that was happening without her having a hand on the steering wheel. She was in a car and it was careening out of control, down a sheer mountainside, and the brakes weren’t working.

  How could she stop it?

  I could leave. I could rent a place. Nothing is stopping me. And that would be my choice, then, wouldn’t it?

  That seemed a good idea, and it was still a good idea after breakfast, when there came a knocking at her door. Hoping and praying that it wasn’t Matteo, she opened it to see a woman she didn’t know holding the hand of Princess Alex, his daughter.

  She beamed a smile at the little girl and crouched down to her level. ‘Hello, Alex! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m going horse-riding!’

  ‘Horse-riding? That sounds fun. I’ve never done that—aren’t you lucky?’

  ‘One day, darling, Krystiana, you will ride a pony of your own.’

  She tried to ignore the voice of her father in her head.

  ‘Could you come? Bruno, too?’

  She thought about it. She could. After the hullaballoo of last night’s rescue she needed something nice and settling. It was the weekend, she didn’t have work today or tomorrow, and she really liked Alex. Perhaps it could be the last thing she did before she packed her things and left?

  ‘All right. But I’m going to leave Bruno here. I’m not sure how he is around horses and I don’t want there to be an accident. Is that all right?’

  Alex nodded. ‘Come on, then! We’re going now!’

  ‘I’ll meet you there. I just need to change.’

  Alex and the woman who was clearly her nanny nodded and headed off, whilst Krystiana checked her wardrobe for the right gear. What did people wear to ride horses? She hoped she’d get a gentle one. She’d hate to be stuck on the back of a galloping horse she couldn’t stop...