by Ember Casey
When I look up at her, though, I realize her entire demeanor has changed. She’s suddenly gone very stiff, very still, and those soft-looking lips of hers are pressed in a hard line. Her cheeks are a most intoxicating shade of red.
“You believe I’m misusing funds,” she says, and it’s clear from the dark spark in her eyes she’s barely holding back her temper.
This isn’t exactly how I expected her to respond—women usually have a very different reaction to me—but I’m not afraid of a woman with a short temper. In fact, I rather like a little feistiness, and the thought of taking her to bed is becoming more and more appealing by the second.
But first, I have to ease her fears.
“I never accused you of misusing funds,” I tell her with a wave of my hand. “I simply want to ensure that you have everything you need. The funds the clinic receives should be more than enough to cover a proper desk, for example.” I drum my fingers on the card table between us. “And proper chairs for you and your guests.” My eyes fall to the damp spot on her shirt right between her breasts. “And I suspect there is even enough to get the air-conditioning fixed. We need to make sure everything is comfortable for you and your patients.”
But though my words are meant to reassure her—there’s no need for her to be working like this—instead, they only seem to anger her further.
“How dare you,” she says, rising out of her chair. “How dare you come here and accuse me of not caring about the comfort of my patients. Or act like you have any idea how things should be run down here. Have you even been to Rio de Campo before?”
I start to respond, but she cuts me off.
“This isn’t Montovia,” she continues. “Buildings here don’t have air-conditioning. And there are more important things than desks and chairs. You have no right to waltz in here and start lecturing me about how we use our funds when you haven’t even been here for five minutes—”
“Forgive me,” I say, standing as well. “But I believe I have every right—”
“You have no right,” she repeats. “Now get out. I have patients to see, and I don’t have time to listen to some pompous idiot who’s never been outside of the first world before. This isn’t Montovia.”
Forget feisty, I think, fighting back a laugh. She’s as fiery as they come. And all the more attractive for it, too—it’s all I can do not to let my gaze fall to her breasts, which are heaving against the clingy fabric of her shirt. She should shout at me more often. I rather like the view.
But sadly, I should try to resolve this.
“Elle,” I say calmly, “if we could just—”
“No. Get out.” She grabs my sleeve and starts dragging me toward the door.
I don’t resist—though I could overpower her quite easily, I suspect that isn’t the right tactic.
“Elle,” I say again. “I’ve spoken poorly. I never meant to accuse you of anything.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, pulling me through the lobby. “This conversation is over.” The man behind the counter looks startled by this little scene, but he doesn’t try to stop Elle from dragging me right to the door of the clinic and back outside.
“This isn’t convenient or fun for either of us,” I say, trying another angle. “It wasn’t my choice to come here. But I’m afraid I must ensure my family’s money is being used properly.” She’s released my sleeve, and I spin around just in time to see her grab the door—and freeze.
“What did you say?” She looks back at me, and her eyes have gone wide.
I straighten. It seems I’ve found the right approach. “I said that this isn’t convenient for either of us and—”
She shakes her head. “No, I mean about the money. You said it was your family’s money.”
“Why yes, I—”
“Who are you?”
Ah, yes, now I see.
It seems Doctor Elle Parker has started to realize who I might be. And I’ll be damned if I don’t use it to my advantage.
“I’ve already told you,” I say lightly, ready for this little game. “My name is Leo. It’s short for Leopold.”
She gives a jerk of her head, apparently out of patience. “What’s the rest of it?”
My lips curl into a smile. Perhaps I should have mentioned it sooner—but now I’m having far too much fun watching her squirm.
“I’m Leopold Augustus Xavier Lothair, second son of King Edmund II. Most people know me as Prince Leopold of Montovia.”
Elle
He left out the His Royal Highness bit.
I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him, but in all honesty, the tabloid photos do not do Prince Leo justice. I’ve known since I took this job it was the Montovian royal family underwriting this clinic, but meeting him…here? It’s all so out of context I didn’t see it before.
I have to clench my jaw to keep my mouth from falling open, though I’m almost sure that’s what he’s expecting me to do, judging by the smirk on his lips.
He does this all the time. I can see it on his face—this is how this asshole gets his way in life. He can drop his family’s name—hell, his name—and get anything he wants. And with the way he keeps staring at my chest, getting in my panties is probably next on his wish list. And the sad thing is, it wouldn’t have taken much for him to convince me to have done just that before he did the whole name-dropping thing.
Maybe the year I’ve spent holed up here has been too long and something tells me he can almost smell my desperation.
I’m pathetic.
But this is Leo—the bad boy prince of Montovia. Are you fucking kidding me? One of the first single men to enter this clinic in almost a year had to be this asshole?
Maybe I should have left the clinic more often. Maybe I should have been more involved in the local activities. If I hadn’t shuttered myself in this place, perhaps I wouldn’t be having such a problem now.
I cross my arms over my chest, all too aware of the way his eyes keep dropping to the gross sweaty stain on the top of my shirt—and now I’m even more aware why. This guy has probably slept with every woman in Europe, not just every woman in Montovia. Clearly, he thinks he’s going to start a new trend here in South America since he’s likely run out of willing females on the other side of the world. But I’ll be damned if he’s coming anywhere near me. Especially now that he’s accused me of being some thief—I can see in his eyes what he thinks of me. It must be giving him a thrill, thinking he’s going to catch a criminal, then…what? Sleep with me? Ha.
The old me would have bitched about how unfair this all was. How some asshole prince from Montovia who has never worked a day in his life can just waltz in, not knowing anything about what goes on here, and expect me to do anything for him.
But that isn’t me now. I don’t whine about much anymore—I don’t have much time to complain, even if the situation here does suck. I’ve come to understand how life is unfair, and it has nothing to do with my life. Before I came to Rio de Campo, I thought my life was pretty horrible. I honestly thought nothing could be worse than what had happened to me back in the States. But that seems so trivial now, compared to what I see here every single day. And this douchebag—he has no idea. No fucking clue—
“Why don’t you give me a tour?” He gives me another one of those smiles, his gaze never leaving mine. Something about that look… I’m not sure why, but I know he’s used it before. It’s probably the go-to thing he does to get his way. His smirk is a little too cocky. Almost arrogant, but so fucking charming.
That stupid electric thrill runs through me again, centering itself exactly where I should not be feeling it. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to remind myself I am not going to let his charms work on me, no matter how desperate for company I might be. I almost wince from the pain before the metallic taste of blood hits my tongue.
“As I said, Elle, I’m only here to see how we can help.” He puffs out his chest a little. “There are no accusations being made. Just concerns…”
My gaze narrows and I touch my tongue to the wound I’ve made on the inside of my cheek. I glare at him for a moment. His eyes drift south again, and I tighten the hold I have on my arms, still crossing my chest.
“Concerns.” I almost parrot his tone instead of asking a question.
This day should have come a long time ago—long before I arrived here. It’s been pretty clear to me the royal family has their heads pretty far up their asses, considering what goes on in this country. The fact that it has taken them almost two years to start asking questions speaks a hell of a lot more about them than it does about me. I guess I’d hoped they had figured it out themselves and were staying out of it. Or maybe I’d hoped if they did decide to grace Rio de Campo with their presence, I would be somewhere else by then. Anywhere else.
“You want a tour.” I’m surprised at how resigned my voice sounds—almost flat. I press my lips into a line again and force myself not to say something that is going to make me sound like I’m a smartass. Not that I’m not very much a smartass, but the guy is a royal, after all, not to mention one of my employers. I suppose I have to show some sense of decorum, even if my brain is screaming at me that he doesn’t deserve it.
“Follow me.” I spin on my heel, my arms still crossed over my chest. I’m almost glad to be moving—the small amount of silence between us is too uncomfortable.
He probably thinks this place is disgusting, and he isn’t wrong. But if he thinks the lobby is bad…
We only walk a few feet toward the swinging door separating the lobby from the rest of the clinic before I hear the front door burst open behind us. A woman is carrying a baby and she screams something in Spanish.
I don’t even think—I take the baby from the woman’s arms and race into the back. I lay her down on one of the two gurneys. This room is supposed to serve as the office area, where a nurse and a secretary might sit, but it now functions as the main area where I see my patients. I have the bed raised high enough for me to be able to stand next to it while I work on the child. It’s become a habit now, preparing the area for the next sick baby as soon as the last one has left.
I make sure she’s still breathing—she is, but she’s wheezing. I grab my stethoscope from the side table between the two beds and listen to her lungs. They’re awful, similar to what I hear every day—but this baby is lucky. Her mom brought her to the clinic before her airway closed.
I don’t have time to think about how I’ve seen this too many times in the past year—babies and children who can’t breathe. This isn’t what this clinic was meant for at all. It was supposed to be a wellness clinic—somewhere for children to get free annual checkups and vaccinations—something that is needed here, but not exactly culturally appropriate. As far as other medical care goes, even with the heavily discounted rates, it’s still far too expensive for most people to afford.
The nearest hospital is over forty miles away and most of the people here don’t have any means of transporting themselves there, even though many of the children I see have medical needs I can’t meet with the meager supplies and nonexistent staff at this facility. Taking the bus to the nearest city would cost a week’s wages for most of the families I see. It isn’t even a possibility for most of them.
Raul speaks to the mother of the baby, explaining what I’m doing. I turn the baby on her side so I can listen to her lungs from her back.
“Can I help with anything?” I hear Prince Leo’s voice right behind me—so close I can almost feel his breath on my neck.
He walks around to my side to get a better look at the baby. Just as he reaches down, the child coughs and blood spurts from her mouth and onto his arm.
He gasps and pulls his hand away. His partially rolled-up shirt sleeve now has a splattering of blood on it.
Listening to the baby’s lungs is about all I can do. We don’t have the equipment here for me to do anything else. She needs an x-ray, blood tests, and medicine—things I don’t have at this clinic.
Raul is talking to the mom about what is going on. I’m already dreading the conversation the woman and I are going to have when I tell her that her baby needs to go to the hospital for the tests and the medication she needs.
I’m not sure if this is a child I’ve seen before or not. There are too many of them, and most of them come in multiple times. To some people, I might seem like I’m cold or uncaring, but I’m not that way at all. I’ve just had to distance myself from the realities of what happens here. If I didn’t, I’d be crying all the time and unable to care for these little kids.
And he doesn’t get it. Prince Leo leads a charmed life—he doesn’t ever have to see what happens in the real world. Neither did I before I came here—I mean, I worked in a pediatric emergency room for a year after I finished my residency, but it was never like this. And this place isn’t supposed to be like this, either. It’s supposed to be a clinic, not an emergency room. And while the Montovia Medical Council explained there might be occasional emergencies, it isn’t supposed to be a daily thing. The only thing. And it happens so much, I don’t have any time to figure out why it’s happening at all.
I live here most of the time, alone in the clinic so I’m always available when I’m needed. One of the two little patient rooms off to the side of this area is where I live and sleep. Prince Leo is going to freak out when he finds out about that. I’m supposed to have my own apartment—his country is paying for it, for Christ’s sake. But I spend my salary on other things—getting kids like this to the hospital in Santa Rosa, mostly.
I turn to Raul, giving the mother as warm a nod as I can. I can speak Spanish, but the dialect here is different than what I learned back home, and most of the locals can’t understand me. “Tell her we need to get the baby to the hospital.”
He translates my words for the woman, and the same look clouds her face that clouds the face of every mother who comes into the clinic.
My brow creases and I let out a long breath. “Tell her I’ll make sure the costs are taken care of.”
Raul nods grimly and turns back to the woman. Tears stream down her cheeks and she fishes around in her bag.
I know this drill—it happens multiple times a day. I pull up the rails on the bed so the baby won’t fall if she does happen to wake up and I turn to go back to the lobby, trying to ignore the royal idiot who is staring at me with his mouth almost gaping open.
The baby’s mother walks up to me saying something I don’t understand and places an object in my hand.
“She says you’re an honorable doctor.” Raul looks at me with an almost identical look to the one the woman gave me a moment ago. The same clouded, almost dejected look. “She says she wishes she could give you more.”
I nod, giving the woman a grim smile. “Get the baby to the hospital. And if the baby gets sick again, take her straight there.” They are the same words I say every time, even though it isn’t going to happen. If this happens again, I’m sure she’ll bring the baby right back here.
I don’t even look at what it is she’s given me and I try not to think about her or the man I can sense following close behind me as I walk back into the lobby.
I spin on my heel to face Leo. “That was your tour.”
He’s no longer staring at my chest, at least. He gazes into my eyes with a look I don’t recognize. Not from him, anyway. It almost looks like…respect. I find it hard to believe he respects anything, though, knowing what I’ve heard and read about him in the past.
He looks at me for a moment before his brow wrinkles and he glances down at my hand. He nods at my closed fist. “What did she give you?”
I raise my arm, turning my hand over so that it’s between us. I release the tight fist I made around the object and open my hand so we both can see what treasure it is that’s been given to me as payment this time.
His nose wrinkles as he examines the item she’s given me. “A seashell? Why would she give you a seashell?”
I look down at the white se
ashell in my hand and close my fingers around it again, lowering my arm. “Do you know how far we are from the ocean?”
He looks into my eyes and I almost forget my heart was racing only a few minutes ago because of the adrenaline rush of saving a baby’s life. It seems to be racing for an entirely different reason now.
He stares at me for a beat too long. “I have no idea. A hundred kilometers?”
“Almost three hundred miles. It’s something valuable to her.” I touch the cool shell in my hand, tracing its outline with my thumb. I try not to think about how many of these nearly identical shells I collected as a child growing up near the beach in California or how many of them I colored on with markers. This is the most valuable thing the woman had with her and she was willing to give it up for her child.
“The supplies you used in there cost more than that shell is worth. Your time costs—”
I glare up at him, my fist tightening around the trinket in my hand. “You know, at least it wasn’t a chicken this time. Do you know how many of those I’ve gotten since I came here?” I try not to roll my eyes. “I’ll take care of it. It’ll come out of my salary.”
His expression softens and his mouth opens as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes out for another moment. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to suggest that you should be paying for anything. I merely meant that it’s the responsibility of the parent to pay for the health care of their child.”
I lift a brow and hope that he understands, but I can see that he doesn’t. “Your family built a wellness clinic here. I don’t think you realized that no one is going to come if they are well. That there isn’t anyone here who can afford to come to your clinic if they are sick and actually need care.” I look around the room, almost hoping Raul will come to my rescue, but I’m sure he’s left with the mother through the back entrance.