The Prince's Cinderella Doc

by Louisa Heaton

‘I’m honoured. Thank you.’

  He smiled, and being caught in her gaze once again was exhilarating. Everything else faded away and all he saw was her. He blinked and stepped back, indicating they should go further out onto the terrace, where the views were impeccable in the late evening light.

  ‘Would you like to take a seat? Sergio will be here momentarily with the first course.’

  ‘What are we having?’

  A dash of attraction with a hint of lust and a heavy dose of desire.

  ‘I told him to surprise us. I’m sure he won’t let us down. He has quite the palate.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘His family own a winery. Up in the Auriga Hills.’

  Good. That’s better. Talk about Sergio. The most unromantic topic you can think of. Wine and grapes and feet squishing grapes in age-old barrels. Sergio’s feet. Yes, now, there’s an image.

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d love to show you around one day.’

  ‘Have you ever been?’

  ‘Yes. A few years ago now, though. Before I was kidnapped.’

  She nodded. ‘How do you feel about it now?’

  He didn’t mind talking to her about that, either. ‘Sometimes it’s like a dream. Like it never really happened to me. Other times it’s like a nightmare and I remember everything. How about you?’

  ‘Well, it’s been a lot longer for me since it happened. But I understand what you mean. I tried to make sense of it once, by going to the place where it had happened. I thought if I confronted it then it wouldn’t have any power over me.’

  ‘What was that like?’

  ‘Strange. The landowner agreed to walk me out to the spot where my father had created the bunker. He was very sweet to me. Very kind. Asking after my well-being, wanting to know that I was all right. He even apologised to me for not knowing. For not realising that I was out there. And then he pointed at a dip in the ground. It just looked so normal and inconsequential. No different from the rest of it. And yet in my mind it had held such power. The hole had been filled in, and scrub and mulch covered it over, but I stared at it, trying to imagine myself in such a small hole, shivering in the cold, clutching a book for comfort.’

  He could imagine it all too easily. ‘Did you have nightmares before?’

  ‘Every night.’

  ‘And going to the place...did that help get rid of them?’

  ‘It did. I saw it was just a place that meant nothing any more. It wasn’t the bunker that had harmed me—it was my father. That takes longer to get over. Someone close hurting you. But, yes, it was a good thing for me to do. It exorcised the ghosts that lingered. Gave me closure.’

  ‘How so?’

  She glanced at him. But thankfully not for too long. Her eyes were like welcoming pools he wanted to stay in.

  ‘I think it’s because it was the place I wanted to escape from so much. A place I told myself I would never again go near. I’d built it up into this huge thing. So that place...it haunted me. By returning I showed that I was stronger. I proved to myself that I was in control.’

  Matteo nodded. He understood. And he was in awe of her bravery and courage.

  ‘You could go back too, you know. I believe in you. If you could get through two years in that place, then you can get through anything.’

  ‘I don’t have to go back. I’ve thought about it, but the bad dreams are only occasional and my therapist has been helping me a lot...sorting through my feelings.’

  ‘Good. Talking therapy works really well. I’m glad you’re getting a lot from it.’

  He nodded. ‘I am.’

  At that moment Sergio arrived, carrying a tray, and laid down a small bowl in front of each of them. ‘Butternut squash risotto,’ he intoned. ‘Do enjoy your meal.’

  ‘Do you think being held hostage made you a different person?’ she asked after a while.

  ‘I’m still me.’

  ‘Of course—but are you a stronger you now?’

  ‘I’d like to think so. I’ve been given a different perspective on life. On trauma and struggle and just wanting to survive. I’d like to think I have taken that and learned from it, so that I can be a strong king when I take the throne.’

  ‘You’ll make an excellent king,’ she said emphatically.

  He was pleased at her confidence in him. It was something he shared. ‘Thank you. I shall certainly try my very best.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve no doubt. What other royal opens up his palace to a homeless woman? Helps search for survivors under earthquake rubble? Goes out to rescue asylum seekers? You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. You care. You’re compassionate. You’ll make an excellent monarch.’

  She clearly meant every word. He was truly touched by her confidence in him. ‘Thank you. That means a lot to me.’

  She stared back and he found himself caught in her gaze. What was it about her that did this to him?

  ‘Eat your risotto before it gets cold.’

  She nodded, smiled and picked up her fork.

  * * *

  She imagined, as he spoke, what it might be like to be with him. Who wouldn’t? He was a prince. Handsome and charming. A presence with an overwhelming masculinity that made itself known whenever she was with him. He was a good listener, a caring and thoughtful person, and she could see that he liked people.

  He was always courteous and considerate to the servants in his employ, chatting to everyone the same way, no matter whether they were another member of the royal family or a gardener. She could appreciate his kindness, his heart, and his concern for his people and the future he might bring them. Clearly being King was something he took seriously.

  But her body responded to him in ways she did not want. Her heart fluttered with excitement every time she saw him and she yearned for something more than what they had. But that was just her being foolish. A remnant from a previous time in which she’d trusted people.

  ‘How do you see your life changing when you become King?’ she asked, genuinely interested.

  He shrugged. ‘I imagine it will be pretty much the same. Just my title will be different. I’ll be expected to attend more events. To do more touring, perhaps.’

  ‘Isn’t it hard for you to be away from your family?’

  ‘It can be. The kidnapping made me see how important family is. Material things—possessions—those don’t matter at all. It’s people who count. Being with the ones you love. Leaving them hurts me, but it gets easier each time I do so.’

  He ate a mouthful of their next course—a rich lasagne, oozing with béchamel sauce.

  ‘What about you? You left your childhood home and moved to another country. Don’t you ever miss Poland?’

  ‘Sometimes. But I’m not so sure it’s the country I miss as much as the people I knew there. Friends I made at school. The therapist I saw who became a good friend. My school teachers.’

  ‘You enjoyed school?’

  She smiled. ‘I did. Very much so. I even thought I’d become a teacher when I was little—I loved it that much.’

  ‘What made you become a doctor?’

  ‘My mother dying the way she did. Hit by a bus. When I got to the hospital and saw how they were trying to save her, I...’ Her mouth dried up and she had to take a sip of water. ‘I felt in the way. I wanted to help too, but there was nothing I could do but cower in a corner. It wasn’t until much later—after I’d moved to Isla Tamoura—that I decided I would never feel that helpless again and so I trained as a doctor.’

  ‘You had focus?’

  ‘Yes. It helped me a lot. Knowing I was working towards something.’

  ‘I feel the same.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I grew up knowing I would become King one day. They train you for it, you know. Special lessons in law and etiq
uette and the history of tradition. They school you in politics and languages and even body language.’

  She laughed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a good king. As good as my father and loved by my people. But I’ve always known I don’t want to be just a title behind the palace walls. I want to be involved—I want to get right down at the grass roots and know people. Be an active king who achieves things and is not just a figurehead. I want to be seen doing worthwhile work, not just waving at crowds from behind bullet-proof glass. Being a man of the people means a lot to me, and I intend to get it right. The kidnapping showed me just how much people matter, and if I can help them then I will.’

  ‘Like housing homeless doctors?’

  Matteo smiled. ‘Exactly.’

  She ate another mouthful of food, contemplating her next question.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  She looked up at him.

  ‘I can tell you want to ask me something.’

  Krystiana dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Then sipped her water. ‘Do you ever get lonely?’

  He looked straight back at her, considering her question. ‘Do you?’

  ‘I asked first.’

  Matteo sat back. ‘There’s an element of being a royal that makes you lonely. People put you on a pedestal—they think you’re above them so they don’t try to reach you. They just admire you from afar. I’d like to think that I’m accessible to everyone, but... I have my father and my daughter. And my extended family, like Beatrice and Edoardo.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘What did you mean?’

  ‘Do you miss being married?’

  ‘My marriage to Mara was never a true love-match. Not romantic love, anyway. We were best friends and we still are, despite what happened. I haven’t lost her. What about you? Do you ever see yourself settling down?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. No way.’

  ‘Why not?’

  How to answer? Krystiana looked out across the terrace, past the gardens and deep into the countryside, where the setting sun was making everything look hazy and dark. Should she tell him about Adamo? No. That was a whole embarrassing situation she never wanted to be in again.

  ‘I don’t think I’m capable of giving myself wholeheartedly to anyone. Not any more.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’d have to trust them, and that would make me vulnerable, and I promised myself I would never be made to feel vulnerable ever again.’

  She stared back at him as if daring him to challenge her. To argue with her. Perhaps to laugh at her silly fears.

  But he didn’t do any of that.

  He simply nodded in understanding. ‘Okay. Good enough.’

  ‘Well, thank you for inviting me to dine with you. I’ve had a wonderful time.’

  Matteo nodded. ‘It was my pleasure.’

  They stood together by the doors, awkwardly trying to work out how to say goodnight to each other.

  He felt that the right thing to do would be to kiss her on the cheek as he said goodbye, but when he’d done that earlier he’d inhaled her scent of soap and flowery meadows and felt a surge of hormones flood his system with arousal and attraction. If he did it again he simply wouldn’t get to sleep tonight, and he’d already spent enough sleepless nights lately.

  ‘It will be my turn to entertain you next.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  ‘All right. Well...goodnight, Matteo.’

  ‘Goodnight, Krystiana.’

  He hesitated, and reason told him it would be impolite just to walk away, strange to shake her hand and downright rude to do nothing at all. Friends kissed each other goodnight—and they were friends, weren’t they?

  Leaning in, he kissed one cheek, then the other, trying his hardest not to breathe in her delicious scent.

  That would be wrong.

  For him and for her.

  It was just attraction. Nothing more. He couldn’t be with her. Nor did he want to be. Being with Krystiana would mean falling hard for her and he wouldn’t let that happen. He lived his life in the public eye. She’d be scrutinised down to her every blood cell by the press. And hadn’t she just told him that she would never be vulnerable again? Nor trust anyone? Plus she’d already said that she didn’t want to get into a relationship anyway, so...

  Being in the public eye made you vulnerable. Being in a relationship made you vulnerable. It laid you out bare and then fate would tear you to pieces. Life was cruel and impossible to win. He wouldn’t even try to put either of them through that.

  But he knew he was attracted to her. She was so easy to talk to. He felt relaxed when he was with her. His true self. He could tell her things that he would never tell anyone else...

  He shook his head vehemently as he closed his door. Nothing could come of it. No matter how much his body cried out for the intimacy of hers.

  He could fight instinct. He could fight attraction.

  And what would be the point in getting involved with someone he knew was not suitable? Falling for Krystiana would destroy him. He knew it. She was the type of woman he would fall hard for and he didn’t want to be laid open to hurt again. Or humiliation when it all went wrong. And why wouldn’t it? Everything else had.

  Her life was going in one direction and his in another. They were in a fake bubble right now, and it wasn’t sustainable.

  Matteo turned and walked straight into his bathroom.

  He needed a cold shower.

  * * *

  Krystiana smiled at Mara, who sat opposite her in a splendid pure white tailored dress. The dress showed off Mara’s sylph-like figure, all long limbs and elegance and grace. They’d met in the corridor of the palace as Mara had dropped off Alex and they’d come for a coffee in the royal gardens.

  ‘What was it like for you when Matteo was taken?’

  Krystiana was intrigued. She wanted to know what it had been like for those left behind. She was thinking specifically of her own mother, as they’d never had much time to talk about it before she died.

  Mara let out a slow sigh. ‘It was very difficult. No one knew what had happened to him and I feared the worst. Especially as I’d seen their treatment of him when he was taken. They hit him over the head with a rifle. The sound it made will haunt my dreams for ever.’

  ‘Didn’t you have guards? A convoy of any kind?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But they took out the lead car and then surrounded us with armed men. And there’d been a new guard riding with us, who was actually one of them, and he had his gun at Matteo’s head. They had no choice but to back down.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Then he was gone. I screamed. I cried. I had to get into the front of the car to use the emergency radio. I was still contracting. Still in labour. It seemed an age before help arrived.’

  ‘You gave birth alone?’ Krystiana could hardly imagine that. At least her mother hadn’t seen her being treated roughly. Had never seen inside the hole in the ground. Had not had to go through something like childbirth afterwards.

  ‘My mother came, and my sister. They were able to get to the hospital in time.’

  ‘And it was an easy birth?’

  ‘My blood pressure was high, but the doctors felt that was because of what had happened. The trauma of Matteo’s kidnapping. The violence. I delivered in Theatre—just in case it became an emergency and they needed Alex out quick.’

  ‘You must have been frightened?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Alex was all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mara smiled. ‘She was beautiful.’

  ‘She still is.’ Krystiana smiled too. ‘Is Alexandra the name you both chose?’

  ‘It was one of Matteo’s choices. I’d not been sure abo
ut it, but with him gone like that... I had to choose it. And now I love it. It suits her perfectly.’

  ‘You had no doubt that he’d return?’

  ‘At the beginning? None at all. But when time kept passing. Days into weeks. Weeks into months. A year... I began losing hope. I wanted my child to have her father.’

  ‘That must have been hard for you.’

  What had her mother felt as each day passed? Each week? A month? Had she feared her daughter dead?

  Mara nodded. ‘It was. To lose my best friend, the father of my child... I felt incredibly alone. But I was expected to carry on. Be a representative of the royal family. Appear brave in the face of the paparazzi. It became too much, and I began to lean on an old family friend.’

  ‘Philippe?’

  She nodded. ‘I know a lot of people hate me for it. For moving on. But when you’re so alone...your heart cries out for comfort.’

  Krystiana considered that. The need to be held was a powerful one. To be listened to. Heard. When was the last time someone had given her a long hug? When had she last snuggled against someone? Bruno didn’t count. He was a dog. But perhaps she felt she could do it with Bruno because dogs loved unconditionally? Dogs didn’t trick you, or let you down, or bury you in a miserable hole.

  And as she gazed at Mara she wondered. Wondered how she could seem so content, so happy, knowing that life could be unfair and take your loved ones away from you so quickly?

  ‘You and Philippe are happy?’

  She smiled. Beamed, in fact. ‘Very.’

  ‘I’m glad for you. That you found Philippe.’

  Mara nodded her thanks.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘OUCH!’ KRYSTIANA WHIPPED her hand from the rose bush, shaking it madly to take away the pain. One of the thorns must have pricked her as she’d knelt down to smell the scent of the misty blue bloom.

  The rose was called Blue Moon. Her favourite. Her mother had grown Blue Moons in her small patch of garden, and as Krystiana had wandered through the gardens that gave Matteo peace she had hoped to find some for herself. Spotting the familiar bloom had drawn her to it, and she had reached for it without thinking.