‘So... I’m ready?’
‘Yes, you are. I’ll gather my things together and then I’ll go.’
‘Thank you, Giulia. You’re a miracle-worker!’
‘It was my pleasure. Have a good night.’
* * *
There was a gentle knock at her door and Krystiana opened it.
Matteo stood there, looking handsome in a smart suit, his white shirt crisp and clean, open at the collar. He looked like a handsome spy, set to seduce.
‘You look...’ He looked her up and down, his eyes appreciative. ‘Amazing!’
She blushed. ‘Thank you! So do you.’
‘May I escort you down to the car?’
He held out his arm and she slipped hers through it, smiling. ‘Thank you! You may.’
Together they walked through the palace corridors, past various members of staff going about their duties. They all looked up and smiled at the two of them and Krystiana felt admired and adored. Clearly they were a handsome couple.
In the car, they were driven slowly through the grounds of the palace and out through the gates, then down towards the bustling capital city of Ventura. Before she knew it they were pulling up outside a smart restaurant, set back from the road. Either side of the doors were railings behind which had gathered a bunch of people with cameras.
She felt her heart begin to race. ‘Are they paparazzi?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘How did they know we were coming here?’
‘I don’t know. Someone must have let something slip. Shall we go back? We don’t have to go out there.’
Her heart was racing and she felt a little clammy. Back in the palace she’d been sheltered from this, and though she knew she’d agreed to this, now that the moment was here it still felt a little...frightening.
‘Just stay by my side—all right?’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Keep your eyes on me. When we’re out of the vehicle we’ll give them one moment when we stand together, give a quick smile, and then we’ll be indoors. I promise you they can’t see inside, and they can’t step through the door. We’ll have privacy for our meal. All right?’
She nodded, not sure she could speak.
‘Okay. Deep breath and then one, two, three...’
Matteo opened the car door and suddenly a barrage of flashing lights assaulted her, blinding her slightly. She could hear clicks and whirrs and felt the flashes blinding her, leaving imprints on her retinas. She had to fight the urge to hold her hand in front of her face and run inside.
Instead, she gripped his arm, feeding on his sure strength and composure, and when she looked up at him he was smiling down at her with such ease that she couldn’t help but smile back. And then they gave the press what they wanted. A quick pose. A quick smile. A small wave and then they were inside the restaurant.
She let out a heavy breath and looked to Matteo with relief. He was smiling at her and he kissed her gently on the lips. ‘You did great.’
‘It all happened so fast.’
‘We all learn how to work the press. Give them enough to keep them fed and watered, but always leave them hanging on for more. And always be polite.’
‘It almost feels like a game.’
‘It is. They’re all in competition with one another for the best shot, the best photo, the best smile. Because that’s what sells.’
‘I guess tomorrow everyone will know who I am?’
He nodded. ‘They won’t know for sure, though. It will all be speculation.’
So he can deny us later?
She hated it that the thought flittered through her brain, and she dismissed it. If he’d not wanted anyone to know about them then he would have ordered the driver to bring them here. He wouldn’t have got out of the car with her. She was just being ridiculous and nervous because she was putting herself out there, on the line. Of course she could trust him.
The maître d’ met them and escorted them to a small private booth at the back of the restaurant. A piano played softly in the background, and she quickly realised it wasn’t being piped through speakers but was an actual pianist sitting at the instrument.
Candles lit the restaurant, alongside wall sconces and chandeliers, creating an intimate mood, and she sat at the table, suddenly feeling hungry. The nerves from facing the press had emptied her stomach.
A server draped her serviette over her lap and poured water into their glasses. ‘Would you like to see the menu?’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
The server bowed and presented them each with a leather-bound menu. ‘The special today is venison, which has been marinated in juniper, served with a parsnip velouté and a wild mushroom sauce.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, and smiled shyly at the server and watched him walk away. ‘This place is beautiful.’
‘It’s a favourite of mine. The chef is very good.’
She smiled. ‘Did you come here with Mara?’ she asked. She didn’t want to think that this was where Matteo had brought all the women he’d wanted to impress in his past.
‘No. I didn’t. I only found this place after Mara and I had split.’
She smiled shyly. Thankful.
‘So, what do you fancy?’
Krystiana beamed and reached across the table to take his hand. ‘You.’
* * *
‘Tell me what you were like as a little boy.’
She couldn’t imagine what he must have been like. Her only recollections of growing up in Poland seemed to be around her own kidnapping, and then afterwards moving to Isla Tamoura. Adapting to a new way of life and thinking how strange it was. Surely his childhood had been a lot more sturdy.
He smiled. ‘My father would tell you that I got into all types of mischief.’
‘And what would you tell me?’
Matteo laughed. ‘That he was right! There was this one time he was having an official meeting. Very important. Children not allowed. I can remember being fascinated about why all these important-looking people were allowed into this room and I wasn’t! Was there some treasure there they were all looking at? Were they eating fabulous food? Did they have great computer games? I felt sure I was missing out on something, so I crept in and hid behind a drape at the back of my father’s chair. I listened and listened, absolutely sure that I’d hear something secret or amazing. But they were droning on about olive yields and crop rotations and it was the most boring thing I’d ever heard—so I thought I’d liven things up.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I jumped out from behind the curtain and made the loudest and best dinosaur noise that I could possibly make.’
She laughed, imagining it. ‘What happened?’
‘My father turned in his seat and gave me “the look”. I knew then I was in trouble. I was escorted out, and about an hour later he came and told me off—said that as punishment I had to help the gardener for the afternoon.’
‘Wow.’
‘And of course you know how that turned out. I ended up designing nearly all of it.’
‘It sounds like you were a very happy young boy.’
‘I was. I was lucky.’ He looked at her. ‘How about you? There must be something from your childhood that’s a good memory?’
She had to think about it. But then she remembered. ‘My father once promised me a pony. He said that one day that I would have the best pony in the world! He got me a poster for my room, and a small cuddly toy that was a horse, but he said that one day I’d ride a pony that was all mine. I never got to do it, but I remember how hard he tried to give me what I wanted. He wasn’t always a bad man.’
‘Matilde could be yours.’
She looked at him. Was he serious? ‘What...?’
‘She could! You on Matilde, myself on Galileo—we could have many happy rides together.’<
br />
‘You see a future for us, then?’ she asked, her heart beating merrily. She was testing him gently. Needing the reassurance of his words.
He sipped his water. ‘Of course.’
* * *
Later, Matteo walked her back to her rooms in the palace. Once inside the doors of his family home she had pulled off her heels, and she padded barefoot through the corridors, her head leaning against his arm.
She’d had such a wonderful evening with him. Listening to his stories and tales, laughing at his anecdotes, of which he had many, and just enjoying listening to him speak.
She realised just how long it had been since she’d been able to do that. Her whole adult life had been filled with patients—sitting and listening, assessing, analysing, looking for clues to their physical or mental state, considering diagnoses, selecting help methods and suggesting therapies and strategies they could use to get better.
But tonight she had just enjoyed. And she had told him a few tales of her own. Not having to be guarded about what she said, knowing that he would enjoy whatever it was and really listen to it.
She’d felt so good with him. So natural. And as she’d looked into his eyes over the table, as they’d eaten delicious food that had tasted as good as it looked, she’d just known that she could fall for this man hugely. If she hadn’t already.
At her door, she turned to face him, pulling him towards her for a kiss. His lips on hers felt magical. This truly was blissful! To have such joy and happiness after all that they had both gone through. It almost felt as if it were a dream. And to think she had nearly denied herself such happiness...
‘I want you to stay with me tonight,’ she said boldly, looking deep into his eyes, telling him with her gaze exactly what she wanted.
He kissed her again, and then she took his hand and led him inside...
‘Could you undo the zip?’
Krystiana turned away from him, to present him with her back. He gazed at the soft slope of her shoulders, at the gentle curls of honey hair at the nape of her neck and at the long zip that trailed the length of her spine. He took hold of the zipper and slowly lowered it, leaning in to kiss her soft skin as he did so.
She leaned back against him, gasping softly as his lips trailed feather touches and his hands slipped under the dress at each shoulder and slid the fabric to the floor.
Turning again, she faced him with a smile and he took in everything about her. The softness of her skin, the gentle swell of her breasts, her narrow waist, the feminine curve of her lips.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered, reaching for her mouth with his own, sliding his hands down her sides, curving them over her buttocks and pulling her against him. Against his hardness. Wanting her to know how much he wanted her.
‘Matteo!’ She gasped his name as his hands cupped her breasts, and then again as his tongue found her nipples, delicately licking and teasing each tip. He worked lower, down to her belly, hooking his thumbs under her panties and slowly, slowly pulling them down.
He wanted to lose himself in her, but a loud voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him, telling him that this was wrong. That nothing could come of it. He would have to let her go and he was being a terrible man—keeping up the façade that everything was fine. Soon he would have to tell her the truth, and that would tear her apart. He didn’t want to be just another man who would break her heart, so he kept putting it off and putting it off—and now look at where they were.
She thought they were making love.
But he knew he was saying goodbye.
* * *
She woke in his arms. A lazy smile was upon her face. Her body was still tingling, comforted by the feel of Matteo spooning her from behind.
Last night had been everything she had ever dreamed of, and she knew that out in the wider world the people of Isla Tamoura would be waking up to newspaper reports of the coronation and the Crown Prince’s new beau. They would have the rest of their lives to enjoy each other. They’d made it official last night, with that public appearance. Now everyone would know.
Briefly she wondered if she ought to call the practice and make arrangements for her patients to be taken on by Dr Bonetti for a short while. Later on she could decide about when she’d return. It had been so long since she’d taken any time off she felt sure Dr Bonetti wouldn’t mind, and she’d just covered for him, so...
There’s plenty of time before I have to do that, though.
Getting out of bed, she pulled on her robe and opened up the double doors that led outside, closing her eyes to the wonderful warmth of the early-morning sun.
This would be her life from now on. This wonder. This joy. Living in the palace with the man of her dreams, the love of her life. Yes, she knew she loved him. Everything would be different now.
She glanced back at Matteo, still blissfully asleep in her bed, his face relaxed, and realised they’d both got through the night without a night-light. It was as if the love they had between them was what they needed to be strong enough to fight off the fears that plagued them.
Was that all it took? A loving pair of arms?
Whatever it was, she didn’t mind. She was happy. And in love. Probably for the first time in her life. She had fallen for him deeply.
His eyes blinked open and as soon as he saw her he smiled. ‘Buongiorno.’
‘Buongiorno.’
‘You’re up already.’
‘Ready to face the world!’
He groaned. ‘No. Not yet. Let’s just stay here and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Come back to bed.’
She smiled coyly at him and padded back towards him, disrobing and falling into his arms, feeling his lips on hers and delightful sensations rippling through her once again.
‘Aren’t you tired?’
‘Of this? Never.’
Krystiana laughed. ‘Don’t you have to go to the hospital this morning?’
Matteo groaned and rolled over to check his watch, blinking at the time. ‘Yes. Of course. You’re right. Five minutes...then I’ll get dressed.’
‘Five minutes?’ She bit her lip and looked at him questioningly.
He laughed, unable to help himself. ‘I can do a lot in five minutes.’
And then he disappeared under the bed sheet and she felt his mouth trail down her skin, lower and lower, until she gasped with surprise and delight.
* * *
She’d wanted to capture the moment of Alex playing in Matteo’s beloved flower garden. She’d thought it would be a wonderful gift for him. So as Alex frolicked amongst the blooms, trying to catch butterflies with a gauzy net, Krystiana stood back, splashing colour onto canvas.
She’d show him when he got back from seeing his father! He would love it. It would be unique. It would be put in pride of place in his quarters. The lush greens of all the foliage, the spots of gold, bronze, cherry-red, fuchsia-pink and lapis-blue flowers, and amongst it all a beautiful little girl, her long ebony locks flowing behind her, her net held high, ready to swoop.
‘Look at me, Krissy—look!’
She was so beautiful, Matteo’s daughter, and it was important to Krystiana that they got along. She wanted to create a happy painting. Made with love.
Just as she was adding the finishing touches she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. The sensation of being watched.
She turned to see who it might be.
It was Matteo. Up on his sun terrace, looking down at them. He was far enough away not to be able to see the painting, but there was something about his stance that made her think he was upset.
She put down her brushes and wiped her hands on a soft cloth. ‘Alex? Let the painting dry, won’t you? Don’t touch it. I’m just going to see if your father is all right.’
Her first thought was that maybe something had happened with his father. Had Ki
ng Alberto deteriorated? Perhaps he’d had a heart attack in the night?
Oh, please don’t let him be dead!
She hated to think of Matteo being hurt in such a way. Going through the loss of his last remaining parent...
The thought made her steps slow, and for a moment she stopped still completely, just to breathe. To gather herself—strengthen herself for whatever revelation was about to come. It had to be something bad, didn’t it? Otherwise Matteo would have come down to see her in the gardens with Alex.
Everything had been going so well since last night. They’d both finally found happiness. Was the beginning of their love going to be marred by death? She sincerely hoped not...
Krystiana didn’t knock as she entered his quarters. She knew he would still be out on the sun terrace and he was—standing with his back to her, ramrod-straight. There was a sternness to the set of his shoulders, to the upright nature of his posture—as if he was holding himself so as not to break.
‘Matteo?’
He didn’t answer her. Or turn around. And that alarmed her. She walked to his side so that she could see his face. It was cold and stony. Like a statue.
She reached out to touch his hand with hers. ‘Matteo? Are you all right? What’s happened?’
He said nothing for a while, then he blinked and squeezed her fingers tightly, before responding, ‘I went to see my father.’
She felt as if a cold, dead lump was weighting down her stomach. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Fine. Well, health-wise, he is. The doctors think he can come home.’
She felt a wave of relief surge over her. ‘But that’s great news!’
He nodded. ‘It is.’
‘So...why aren’t you happy? You look...stressed.’
And that was when she noticed that in his other hand he held a small glass of whisky. He lifted it to his mouth and sank the drink in one gulp. Wasn’t it a little early for hard liquor?
‘Matteo? You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on. Now.’
He turned to look at her and she could see that he had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy.
The Prince's Cinderella Doc Page 14