This was new territory for her! Uncharted, dangerous territory, with someone who was forbidden!
Or was he?
Now that she’d kissed him, now that she’d tasted a little of what he had to offer, a new voice was suggesting that maybe she should enjoy it. Maybe it was all right. Maybe, just maybe, he was the man for her...
Perhaps that was why it was so confusing—because she was fighting something that she should just accept. But how would she know for sure? How would she know she was safe giving him her heart? It had never worked before when she had done that. She couldn’t think of one relationship in her life that worked well. Well, except for with Dr Bonetti. They loved one another. But they were from the same world.
Krystiana took a sip of her champagne, intending only to take a small swallow, but downing the whole thing in one. Surprised, she passed her empty glass to another server and took another full glass, determined to go slower with this one.
If two people were attracted to one another then why shouldn’t they make something of it? Why shouldn’t they act on their attraction? They were grown adults. They could make their own decisions.
He’d been through the same things as her. The same scares, the same terrors, the same fears. He knew how she felt and she him. Where would she find that again?
Sighing, she sipped her champagne, stopping only to turn at the fanfare of trumpets as an official announced the entry of His Majesty King Alberto and his son, Crown Prince Matteo.
She stared up at him from her place in the crowd and could see the certainty and assuredness on Matteo’s face, trapped within a practised smile. She saw the way his gaze coasted all around him, oozing authority and power as he descended the steps into the room, and how he stayed a few steps behind his father, honouring royal etiquette.
She glanced at Alberto. The King she’d met just once. A tall, proud man, he was greeting a long line of people, smiling and shaking hands. He looked a little more drawn than before. A bit grey... He carried a heavy weight upon his shoulders—perhaps it was that?
He was soon to abdicate. And happily, by all accounts. Krystiana had no doubt that Matteo would make a fabulous king. He was strong and steady. Overflowing with charitable, selfless acts that his people adored him for.
As do I.
Matteo would make an excellent leader for his country. All that he had been through had only served to make him stronger.
The King got to the end of his long line of meet-and-greet people and stepped up to a white podium which was adorned with the Romano royal coat of arms—a gold shield, with a sword at its centre, flanked by a lion on one side and a unicorn on the other, both rearing up as if honouring the sword.
The room went quiet.
The King looked about him, waiting for his moment. The ultimate public speaker. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the court, nothing makes me happier than to see you all here—though my happiness is tinged with a little sadness that this will be the final ball I will host as King. But my successor is one you all know, love and respect, and I know that he will follow the honour, tradition and heritage of this fine land. My only son—Matteo.’
The crowd clapped, smiling broadly.
‘We all know his story. For those of us left behind it was an unsettling time. We were cast adrift, uncertain, unknowing. We tried what we could to ensure his safe return, but each time—as you know—the guerrillas who held him proved not to be reputable people and they kept him from us. Matteo did not get to see the birth of his daughter. He did not get to see her early years or experience the joy that we did as she began to sit up, then crawl, then walk. Nor did he hear her first word, but I’m sure he was very pleased to hear it was “Papà”.’
He smiled at his son, who stood proudly by his side.
‘But we did get him back, and he has proved his strength and fortitude. Returning strong and unhurt by his time away, for which we are very grateful. Tonight I would like to name this ball in his honour, and also to announce some incredible news.’
The crowd inched forward, eager to hear it.
Behind the King, Krystiana saw Matteo’s smile falter somewhat as he turned his gaze to his father. Clearly Matteo did not know what the King was about to say.
‘It has been decided that in anticipation of Matteo taking the throne next year, he will go on a six-week tour of the kingdom of Tamoura, visiting every major city and every urban centre, meeting the people and showing the world that no one can beat down the strength and courage that my son has. He will be a strong king! A king committed to the welfare of his people. Hopefully, he will meet as many of them as he can. His full itinerary will be posted tomorrow at the royal court and the tour will begin in one week’s time!’
Matteo’s smile broadened, as if he’d already known this would be the King’s proclamation, but she knew better. She could see the surprise in his eyes.
He didn’t know about this.
She was shocked, too. He was leaving the palace. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was packing up tomorrow, because if she’d stayed her heart would have been broken anyway. He would be leaving on a tour of the isle. No doubt with a jam-packed itinerary. He would be returning to the world where he lived and she... She would be returning to hers. She had patients. He had subjects.
The bubble was popping. She’d always known that it would. She would have popped it herself tomorrow. This would push him. Prepare him for kingship. It would be a good thing for him. Good for her, too. Because if he was leaving in just one week, then she could leave knowing that his mind would not be on her departure, but on his travelling arrangements.
You see? We never would have had a chance. I was right to stop this.
She tried to make herself feel happy about that, but she was struggling.
The King stepped back to hold out a hand to his son and Matteo stepped forward to take it. As he clasped his son’s hand and pulled him into a hug the crowd began to cheer and applaud.
But their cries of joy quickly changed to cries of shock as King Alberto slumped in his son’s arms, his face pale and sweaty, and Matteo had to lower him gently to the ground...
* * *
‘Call for an ambulance!’
Matteo couldn’t believe that this was happening. What was wrong with his father?
Holding his father fast, he stared at his slack face. ‘Papà, hang on—don’t you die on me!’
Behind him, he heard a commotion as someone pushed their way through the crowd and he heard her voice.
‘Excuse me! Excuse me—please, make way...’
And then there she was. Krystiana. Kneeling down on the floor beside his father, a pool of grey silk around her as she assessed the situation, her fingers at his neck, assessing for a pulse.
‘Okay, he’s breathing—that’s good.’ She quickly unbuttoned the King’s jacket and laid her ear against his chest and listened. ‘Does someone have a watch? With a second hand?’
A man Matteo didn’t know offered one and he passed it to Krystiana, who kept her gaze on it as she listened to the King’s chest once again.
‘He has tachycardia.’
Matteo frowned. ‘What?’
‘A fast heartbeat. Too fast. We need to get him to hospital, where they can give him some drugs or a shock to bring it back down.’
Servants arrived in droves to usher the guests into another room so that the paramedics could come in, get the King on a trolley and attach electrodes to his chest to monitor his heartbeat. It was one hundred and fifty-two beats per minute.
‘Papà, you’re going to be all right.’
The King took his son’s hand in his. ‘I’m okay...’
The paramedics looked to Matteo. ‘Are you coming in the ambulance?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. So is she.’ He pointed at Krystiana, who looked shocked to be included.
‘Then, let’s go
!’
Matteo and Krystiana followed the paramedics down the long palatial corridors and out to the ambulance. Thankfully their arrival had been through the rear gates, so hopefully there wouldn’t be too much about this in the press the next day. Besides, it was just a fast heartbeat. He wasn’t having a heart attack or anything. They’d get him sorted out at the hospital.
As they got on board Krystiana looked at the ECG tracing. ‘It looks like he has atrial fibrillation.’
‘What does that mean?’ Matteo asked, needing to know everything that was going on.
‘It’s the upper chambers of the heart. The atria. They’re creating irregular impulses that are rapid and uncoordinated.’
‘What does that mean for my father?’
She shrugged. ‘It could be a temporary thing and stop on its own, but he might need assistance to stop it.’
‘How?’
‘Drugs. A shock to the heart.’
‘An electric shock? But why now? What’s caused it?’
‘I don’t know, Matteo. I don’t know your father’s health history. Does he have high blood pressure?’
‘I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned anything.’
‘Heart disease?’
‘No. Papà, how do you feel?’
‘Like something is trying to jump out of my chest.’
‘Are you in pain?’
‘No, it just feels...weird.’
‘We’re nearly there. Hang on.’
He felt Krystiana lay a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
The paramedics kept on observing the trace, monitoring his father’s blood pressure and pulse rate, and Krystiana had placed an oxygen mask over the King’s face, murmuring to him to try and control his breathing, to remain as calm as he could. Before he knew what was happening they were pulling up at the private entrance the royals used at the hospital.
They wheeled his father in and got him hooked up to another heart machine as the paramedics relayed what had happened to the attending physician.
The doctor told the King that they would give him a beta-blocker to try and get his heart-rate below ninety beats per minute.
‘You might feel some tiredness, and your hands and feet may get cold. We’ll monitor your blood pressure continuously and see how you get on.’
‘Grazie.’
‘You must just rest for a while.’
‘Si.’
Matteo had expected more action. This was his father’s heart! Could he die?
‘Why aren’t you doing more?’ he asked the doctor.
‘We’re doing what we can. We have to see if the medication will bring down the heart-rate.’
‘And if it doesn’t? How long do we leave it?’
‘Matteo, give them time,’ Krystiana said, her voice soothing and calm.
He glanced at her, saw the concern on her face and knew instinctively that she was right. They didn’t need him interfering and asking too many questions or getting in the way. This was their territory. They were the ones who knew best.
‘Matteo...?’ His father held out his hand to him.
‘Si, Papà?’
‘I think I might have to hand over to you earlier than suspected.’ He smiled, his eyes sad.
What? No! That wasn’t what Matteo wanted to hear. Become King? No. His father still had years left in him. Didn’t he?
‘No, you won’t. This is just a blip, Papà. You’ll be back home tomorrow—just you wait and see.’
‘No, I fear not. There may be some things I have kept from you...’
Matteo frowned.
‘Dr Szenac? Would you mind if I spoke to my son alone?’ his father asked.
Krystiana nodded and stood up. ‘Of course. Take all the time you need.’ And she stepped out of the private room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Matteo turned back to his father, apprehension and fear filling his heart. ‘What is it?’
‘I wasn’t sure when would be the best time to tell you...but...when you were away I got ill. The cardio doctors believed it was stress brought on by your kidnapping.’
Cardio. The heart. An ice-cold lump settled in his stomach.
‘What happened?’
‘I had a heart attack.’
He stood up in shock. ‘What?’
‘It was minor, Matteo, but I needed bypass surgery. You see this scar line?’
Matteo frowned as he stared at his father’s chest. His father was quite hairy, and he almost couldn’t see it. The scar that ran from just below the dip in his throat down to the bottom of the sternum.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
His father shrugged. ‘I was always going to abdicate when I turned seventy—you know that. When you were taken I had no idea where you were. My only son. My only child. The stress of everything... The day you were returned to us was the greatest in my entire life! For a moment, I thought Alexandra would have to take the throne!’
He tried to laugh. But it fell flat in the small room.
Matteo stared at the scar. A mark that showed his father to be frailer than he’d realised. Not the invincible, strong man he’d believed him to be but human, just like the rest of them.
‘You should have told me. How did you manage to keep this from me?’
‘I swore everyone to secrecy. Why upset you? You had just come home, learned that your mother was dead and your marriage was over! I couldn’t tell you about this, too! I was protecting you, believing I would last until your coronation anyway. Honestly, I thought you would never have to find out. And I’m sorry that you have.’
Above his father’s head, the machine beeped out the fast heartbeat. The drugs didn’t seem to be working. Matteo felt doubt and fear. He couldn’t lose his father.
‘Ti amo, Papà.’
‘I love you, too. Now, let me rest awhile.’
‘All right. I’ll just be outside—but buzz if you need anything. Okay?’
‘I will. Go now.’
He kissed his father on the cheek and left the room. As soon as he saw Krystiana all the emotion he had been feeling came to the fore and he felt tears burning his eyes. He went straight into her outstretched arms.
Being held by her, being close to her, made him feel comforted. She was warm and loving and he knew that she cared for him. She had to. Ever since that kiss they’d shared... It hadn’t been one-sided. She’d responded too. And now she was the one to comfort him, to make him feel safe. He’d always felt safe with her, and safe was a good thing after two years of never knowing if you’d get to see tomorrow’s sunrise.
She sat him down. ‘Are you all right?’
He told her everything his father had said about his prior heart condition. The heart attack. The bypass.
She sat listening, nodding occasionally. ‘That makes sense. Fibrillation like that can often be caused if there’s a prior heart condition.’
‘Will he be all right, do you think?’
‘It’s a long time since I worked on a cardiac ward, Matteo. I’d hate to say the wrong thing. But what we do know is that he’s in the safest place he can be. Where his heart-rate will be continually monitored.’
‘When should the drugs take effect? The rate was still high.’
‘They should have worked by now, really. He might need shocking. They might give him amiodarone... I’m not sure.’
He took her hand in his. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
She smiled back uncertainly. ‘I’ll stay for as long as you need me.’
He was glad to hear it. His foundations had been rocked and he needed an anchor. He didn’t know what it was that was flooding through him, these feelings for her—feelings that he’d never expected to have again. But the thought of losing her whilst his father teetered on the edge of an abyss... No. It would be too much.<
br />
He reached forward to stroke the side of her face. ‘Thank you. There’s something about you, Krystiana... I don’t know what it is, but...’
She was looking deeply into his eyes, their souls connecting. ‘Don’t say any more.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
He narrowed the distance between them and felt his lips connect with hers. He’d craved her ever since he’d last kissed her, but that kiss had been different. This one was gentle and slow, savouring every moment, every movement. She tasted of champagne, and her honeyed scent stimulated his senses into overdrive. He wanted so much more...
He barely knew what was happening in his world right now. But he was looking for comfort.
* * *
Matteo’s father was sitting upright in his bed, looking nervous. The doctors had placed pads on his chest and were going to try and shock his rhythm back to normality.
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Yes, but not for long. And if it works you’ll feel much better almost instantly.’
‘Good. All right. Go ahead.’
He laid his head back and the doctor pressed a button that lowered the pillow end of the bed. He had to be flat for this.
Once he was lying flat, the doctor looked about him. ‘Charging...stand clear...shocking.’
King Alberto’s body flinched violently and then he groaned, relaxing back onto the sheets.
Krystiana looked at the heart monitor, but his heart-rate remained high. She felt for the King. This couldn’t be good at all.
‘Charging. Stand clear. Shocking.’
Again the King’s body went into violent spasm and then collapsed again, but this time the heart-rate began to drop and finally went down to eighty-four beats per minute.
The cardio doctor smiled at Matteo. ‘We have sinus rhythm.’
Matteo reached for his father’s hand. ‘It’s done, Papà, you’re going to be okay.’
Alberto smiled wearily at his son. ‘Grazie a Dio!’
The Prince's Cinderella Doc Page 11