ScandalWithaPrince

by Nicole Burnham

  She set the phone on the bed beside her after typing back a quick see you soon. She needed to call Stefano and thank him. She closed her eyes and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders as she thought through what she’d say. A simple thank you didn’t cover it.

  “Ms. Hallberg?” A soft voice came from the doorway. “Are you awake?”

  Megan took a moment, then opened her eyes to see one of the nurses turning to tiptoe away. The angle of the sun had shifted. She must’ve fallen asleep. “Yes?”

  The nurse spun back around. “I am sorry if I woke you. There is a Mr. Jones here who claims he is family? You said not to expect family visitors, but he asked me to find you—”

  “Jones?” She blinked, dazed. It couldn’t be. She pushed to a seated position. “Yes. Yes, let him in.”

  Skepticism clouded the nurse’s features. “Only immediate family is permitted, you understand.”

  “He is immediate family.” Megan used her index fingers to swipe the gumminess from her eyes. “Is he downstairs or up here at the nurses’ station?”

  A rich voice came from the doorway, gliding over her like a warm, comforting blanket. “I’m right here.”

  * * *

  Megan looked like hell.

  Black smudges marred the skin under her eyes, strands of hair fell from her loose ponytail, and her clothes looked as if she’d slept in them. She sat atop a hospital bed with its sheets perfectly in place, but its pillow mushed. A black sweater hung off the side of the bed and her cell phone rested face down near her hip.

  She must’ve crumpled there in exhaustion, keeping herself available the instant Anna needed her.

  Heaviness threatened to collapse his chest at the sight of her blinking at him. Never had she looked so beautiful. Stefano dropped his bag on the floor, then crossed the room in three steps to wrap her in an embrace.

  Instantly, her arms came around him and she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He ran a hand over the back of her head, smoothing her hair. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered into his shirt. “For Anna. For everything.”

  “No. Don’t be sorry. It’ll be all right.” Still clasping the back of her head, he kissed the top of her hair. He wanted to say that he was sorry, too. Instead, he offered, “I called a doctor in Madrid who’s offered to consult with Dr. Serrano if it will help.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, then slowly pulled back. Her eyes brimmed with tears, though she held them in check. “Dr. Serrano told me. When he said a friend of mine called a meningitis expert, I knew it had to be you. Thank you. And thank you for flying my parents here. I can’t believe you did that.”

  He couldn’t help but give her a small smile. He’d half expected her to accuse him of wanting to control the situation and tell him he shouldn’t have made calls about Anna without consulting her first. But she didn’t. She seemed genuinely grateful.

  She frowned, then angled her head to look at his hat. “You got rid of the Red Sox.”

  “You said you liked the Twins. Does it look all right?”

  She nodded, a smile pushing through her tears. “It’s perfect for Mr. Jones. Suits his personality.”

  “Good.” He eased back, his hands moving from her back to her arms. “So how’s Anna doing?”

  “Stable. But in this case, stable isn’t good.” She slipped from his embrace and stood, leading him to a window that separated her room from Anna’s. He stood behind Megan and gazed through the glass.

  “Dr. Jenkins should be here soon. He wants to examine her, then he and Dr. Serrano will decide what to do next.”

  “She looks so tiny.” With her eyes closed and the covers pulled to the center of her torso, Anna was dwarfed by the bed. The sight of her brought Stefano right back to the hospital he’d visited with his mother when he was seven. Crisp white sheets, white walls, silver bed rails. Monitors flashing on either side of the bed. An IV bag hanging from a hook, its tube snaking down to a child’s hand. The little boy whom he’d met then looked far better than Anna did now—he’d been alert and feeling well enough to play cards—and that boy succumbed to his infection only days later.

  A masked nurse entered the room and glanced at the monitor, then put her fingers to Anna’s wrist to double check the girl’s pulse rate, yet his daughter remained immobile. He’d never seen Anna when she wasn’t bouncing.

  Never in his life had stillness caused him such fear.

  “I’m scared to death,” Megan whispered as the nurse departed, leaving Anna alone. “We can’t lose her. We just can’t.”

  We.

  He put his hands on Megan’s shoulders and squeezed, then slid his arms around her to pull her against him. He couldn’t carry the horrible burden for her, but he could share it.

  “We won’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gingerly, Stefano extracted one foot, then his arm, out from under Megan’s slumbering form before twisting his way off the narrow hospital bed. He froze when she shifted a knee, drawing it closer to her body, but a beat later he realized she wouldn’t wake.

  It had taken nearly six hours from the time he’d entered her room, but he’d finally convinced Megan to lie down and rest, arguing that she needed to muster her energy for when Anna recovered. Dr. Jenkins and Dr. Serrano had spent copious amounts of time with Anna over the course of the evening. After analyzing a new lab report on the bacteria suspected of causing her meningitis, they opted for a different regimen of antibiotics combined with medications that would lower her fever and alleviate any pressure on her brain. The doctors seemed optimistic, but warned Megan that it could take a day or more to see results. While Dr. Jenkins had nodded to Stefano in acknowledgement of their long friendship—Stefano’s family donated generously to a children’s relief project the doctor founded—he knew from their earlier phone call that Stefano wanted to remain anonymous while at the hospital and refrained from addressing him directly.

  Thankfully, Dr. Jenkins hadn’t asked any personal questions during their phone call. Stefano suspected they’d come later, however. The nurses already wondered at his presence. Though they hadn’t said anything since Megan claimed he was part of her immediate family, they’d looked at him askance. Anna wasn’t listed as having a father in her medical records, Megan wore no wedding ring, and it was clear by the way Megan had fallen asleep cradled in his arms that he and Megan weren’t siblings.

  He leaned over the bed to adjust Megan’s sweater—a necessity in the chilly hospital despite the bright summer sunshine outside—but resisted the urge to smooth her hair away from her face. As much as he wanted to stay and comfort her, he wondered at what point his presence would cause her pain.

  After glancing through the window to ensure Anna looked as comfortable as possible, Stefano tiptoed into the bathroom with his overnight bag and eyed himself in the mirror. He’d thought Megan looked like hell when he arrived. Compared to her, he looked like muck dredged from the lowest levels of Barcelona’s Besòs River. Not even when he’d been in the military and spent two weeks in the field, training in the rain and mud, had he looked this haggard.

  Of course, he’d slept more than this during training.

  After receiving Megan’s call, he’d spent the rest of the night researching meningitis, trying to get a grip on what Anna faced and what the current protocols might be. He’d made phone calls and done what he could to get her help. He’d cancelled his appearances for the next day, claiming a migraine, and told his secretary to hold his calls and to do her best to fend off inquiries from his parents. Unwilling to use his own jet and alert anyone to his whereabouts, he’d booked a private flight to Barcelona. Once he secured a plane and pilot, he hadn’t bothered to shower. He’d thrown on jeans, a T-shirt, and the Twins hat he’d ordered nearly a month before but hadn’t yet worn for Megan. He’d packed only his toothbrush, deodorant, and one change of clothes, anxious to get off the ground as
soon as possible.

  He’d thought it the best decision at the time, but now his eyes appeared bloodshot and he was in desperate need of a shave and a shower. If—when—Anna awoke, he’d scare the daylights out of her. It was one thing to appear incognito, it was another to appear frightening.

  He stifled a yawn as he rummaged through his bag for the toothbrush and toothpaste. He couldn’t shower as long as Megan slept. One of them should remain alert and available in case anything changed with Anna. As long as no one got close enough to get a good whiff, he supposed he’d have to do without.

  Probably a good thing he didn’t have to worry about impressing Megan anymore.

  A commotion from outside the room caught Stefano’s attention as he finished brushing. Cautiously, he looked into the hallway for its source and spotted two nurses muttering in flustered Catalan. One was crawling under the sink behind the nurses’ station while another handed her a stack of towels. A third nurse was on the phone, apparently arguing with maintenance over the time it would take to get help. She hung up and spread her arms wide as she looked at the other two nurses, her expression clearly indicating that for the time being, they were on their own.

  Stefano stepped back into the room, checking first on Anna, then on Megan. Both were sound asleep. Figuring he may as well keep himself occupied, he approached the nurses’ station to offer his help with what appeared to be a leak. He spoke no Catalan, but thankfully all three spoke English.

  The nurse who’d been on the phone, a middle-aged woman who wasn’t much taller than Anna, opened a cabinet alongside the sink. “Those are all the tools we have, I’m afraid. A hammer that’s of no use at all and two wrenches. And some wire.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see what the problem is, then see what we need.”

  The nurse who’d been under the sink eased her way out. Her back was wet, so she left to change as Stefano crouched down, then slid in to see what caused the problem. The nurse who’d been cleaning up the mess handed him a flashlight and said, “It’s Mr. Jones, isn’t it? Please tell me you’re a plumber.”

  He smiled to himself as he studied the pipes with the flashlight. “No, not a plumber. But I’ve done some work on water systems. Volunteer work when I was younger. I might be able to figure this out.”

  “I sure hope so.” He heard her feet moving as he continued to study the pipe leading from the drain to the wall. “I need to go check on some patients, but Maria will be right here. Let her know what you need.”

  He assumed Maria was the nurse who’d lambasted the maintenance staff on the phone. A moment later, he was proven correct as he asked for a wrench and she bent to hand it to him.

  “Do you know why it’s leaking?”

  He stretched to loosen the collar of a water filter that had been installed under the sink. “I think it’s a simple case of either a weakened seal or a loose collar.” Especially since the filter came off easily in his hands. He shimmied his way out from under the sink holding the filter. The seal looked fine, but the filter itself needed replacement. “More likely a loose collar.”

  The nurse immediately spied the brown filter and grimaced. “Let’s change that. I’m sure I have another here.”

  As she rummaged in a nearby cabinet, Stefano poured the excess water from the filter container into a nearby bucket and disposed of the old filter.

  “Got it,” Maria said. She removed the packaging, then handed him the new filter. While he was under the sink with the replacement, she said, “Thank you. I know you must be terribly worried about Anna. It’s kind of you to do this when you have her on your mind.”

  “This helps get her illness off my mind,” he replied. “At least until the doctors have something new to report.”

  “Hopefully soon,” she said. He could hear her ripping open a new roll of paper towels to clean the rest of the water that had run onto the floor.

  “It’s the worst feeling in the world not being able to help her,” he said. “Meningitis can be so tricky. I knew a boy once” —he gave the filter collar a twist to lock it in place— “I thought he was going to be fine, but in the end, with meningitis…well, you’ve probably experienced plenty of difficult cases working here, so you’re well aware of what can happen. So much is out of your control that it makes you want to help whenever it’s an option. That volunteer work I said I did on water systems? The main reason I did it was because I never wanted to see a kid come down with a preventable illness when there are so many illnesses that aren’t.”

  “I understand completely. It’s why I became a nurse. Livia, too.” Maria laughed. “She’s the one who tried to fix the sink before you came out. She’s a much better nurse than she is a plumber.”

  “She would’ve figured it out,” Stefano said. He shone the flashlight around, ensuring nothing else under the sink appeared loose, then gave the filter a wiggle to ensure it was tight. As he was checking the seals, he heard a male voice asking where to put a bouquet of flowers and the nurse make an exclamation of surprise.

  “Anna Hallberg, sisplau,” the male added, to which the nurse responded in Catalan.

  Stefano eased his way out from under the sink, glancing at the gigantic bouquet of flowers now on the nurses’ station counter as he turned on the spigot. He bent and shone the flashlight underneath the sink, waiting for leakage, but there was none.

  “Must’ve been the filter collar. It came off pretty easily and was wet on the outside. I think you’re all set.” He stood and handed her the flashlight, but couldn’t take his eyes off the flowers. The arrangement was spectacular, yet completely appropriate for a young girl with its multitude of summery colors and a pink and turquoise Get Well Soon card printed in English.

  Maria returned the flashlight to the cabinet. “Can you believe those?”

  She didn’t need to gesture to the flowers for him to know what she meant. “They’re beautiful. Are they from the Grandspire?” The staff must’ve gotten together to send her an arrangement.

  “The card says J.G,” Maria said with a shrug. “Perhaps G is the Grandspire?”

  “Good a guess as any.” Though he’d bet his life it was Jack Gladwell. He tore his gaze away from the bouquet and told himself not to think about what it might mean. “I’m sure she’ll love them.”

  She handed Stefano a paper towel so he could dry his hands, then offered to buy him a cup of coffee as thanks after she put the arrangement in Anna’s room. “Our cafeteria blend is very good,” she promised. “I can have them send it up.”

  “I’d much rather buy you coffee. Your staff is doing so much for Anna.” He waved off her protests and said, “I’d planned to go there anyway to buy some for Megan, since my guess is that she’ll be awake soon. Tell me what you want.”

  After taking her order, he left for the cafeteria, glad to have a purpose to occupy his mind, however modest that purpose might be.

  * * *

  Megan stood just inside the door to her room, using her shoulder to prop herself against the wall as Stefano offered to bring coffee back for the nurse. She hadn’t heard all of the conversation between the two of them, but she’d heard enough to decide not to intrude. At first, she’d been amused by hearing him discuss water leaks and filters. On some level, she’d forgotten how capable he was despite his privileged upbringing. How he liked to fix things. How utterly ordinary he could be. It was part of his charm, part of how he related so well to anyone he met.

  But then he’d started talking about the reason he’d gone to Venezuela. A boy with meningitis. A boy who hadn’t made it.

  As much as she felt sadness for the family of the boy who died all those years ago, she was moved even more by the realization that the child’s death drove Stefano to far more than a gap year volunteer job. He’d said it to the nurse. So much is out of your control.

  He wanted to help where he could. To fix things. To ensure no one around him was ever hurt.

  And suddenly, everything about their relationship clicked into place.r />
  She puffed out a breath and let her body sag against the wall as the nurses’ station fell quiet once again. That was the promise Stefano had made to her, lying in bed that afternoon in her suite. He’d promised he’d never do anything that could hurt Anna. He’d protect her as if he’d raised her from birth. And he’d said he’d do it no matter the price.

  She jammed her fingers into her hair. How could she not have seen it from his perspective? He’d said he brought her the information on the position in Sarcaccia so she could make an informed decision about marrying him. She’d blown it off, telling him she didn’t want to discuss it. Neither had she wanted to discuss the offer from Gladwell. When he’d seen it—along with the photo snapped at the Magic Fountain—he’d accused her of not trusting him, of not allowing him to have the information he needed to protect her and Anna.

  She should’ve known he’d never marry her if he believed that marriage could possibly result in either of them being hurt, and he believed she’d be hurt if she didn’t allow him to protect her. Turning down a great job offer and having one’s photograph run in a newspaper also ran that risk.

  A groan escaped her. If Stefano had that promise on his mind, no wonder he’d suddenly changed his mind about marriage and acted as if he knew she was planning to turn him down, saying it was for the best. In truth, after seeing the contents of that folder, he probably couldn’t envision a life in which they could be together without Anna being hurt.

  What must that decision have cost him?

  She allowed her hands to drop to her sides as she stared ahead sightlessly. How stupid she’d been. Stefano was willing to accept her, warts and all. He’d forgiven her for keeping Anna a secret. Even if it wasn’t her fault, it was a huge secret to have kept. He’d made amazing, passionate love to her. He’d given her space to consider his proposal. Given up weekends of glamorous parties and soirees with gorgeous, worldly women like Ilsa to chase a giggling prepubescent girl through a hedge maze.