A doctor, a single dad prince...

...and a happy-ever-after?

Dr. Krystiana Szenac’s whole world is turned upside down when she’s hired to complete Crown Prince Matteo’s yearly physical. Especially when an unfortunate accident leaves her homeless—and Matteo offers her a room at the palace! Despite being worlds apart, Krystiana’s pulled into Matteo’s life by his fun-loving young daughter. But is sharing their passions and secrets enough to heal their guarded hearts...and lead to true love?

LOUISA HEATON lives on Hayling Island, Hampshire, with her husband, four children and a small zoo. She has worked in various roles in the health industry—most recently four years as a Community First Responder, answering 999 calls. When not writing Louisa enjoys other creative pursuits, including reading, quilting and patchwork—usually instead of the things she ought to be doing!

Also by Louisa Heaton

A Father This Christmas?

One Life-Changing Night

Seven Nights with Her Ex

Christmas with the Single Dad

Reunited by Their Pregnancy Surprise

Their Double Baby Gift

Pregnant with His Royal Twins

A Child to Heal Them

Saving the Single Dad Doc

Their Unexpected Babies

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Prince’s Cinderella Doc

Louisa Heaton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08987-6

THE PRINCE’S CINDERELLA DOC

© 2019 Louisa Heaton

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To Becca, with all my love.

You are the strongest young woman I know. xxx

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

FOR YEARS DR KRYSTIANA SZENAC had walked along the beach with her dog Bruno, allowing her gaze to fall upon the faraway façade of Il Palazzo Grande—the Grand Palace. It was like a fine jewel in the warm sunshine. A glittering building set atop a hill, with every window, every white wall, reflecting the light. She’d often wondered about what it would be like to live in such a place, but had never imagined for one moment that she would ever pass through the arched gates into the royal sanctuary where the King and his son the Crown Prince lived.

He didn’t know it, but she felt a kinship with the Prince, and every time she thought about their connection—which was often—she would smile to herself, knowing it was ridiculous because he didn’t even know she existed!

But he was about to.

Krystiana sucked in a breath as the large armoured car drove her through the gates and into the palace grounds. She gazed out of the window, feeling like a silly little tourist as she took in the guards in their dark blue uniforms and the white sashes that crossed their chests, the flower displays—perfectly tended, not a weed in place—and the architecture: solid white walls rising high, the crenelated roof with the billowing flag of the royal family and the circular towers in each corner.

It had all the hallmarks of the castle it had once been, even down to the other guards she saw at the top of each tower, ever watchful, even though there had been no threat to Isla Tamoura for hundreds of years. It was pomp and circumstance for the tourists who flocked to the island in their droves, keen to explore this jewel off Italy’s south-eastern coast.

Did Crown Prince Matteo feel safe behind these walls? She couldn’t see why he wouldn’t. All the barriers... All the guards... Security was high. She’d already had her bags searched before she was even allowed in the car. A rugged, dark-suited secret service agent had frisked her down too—the most bodily contact she’d had in years.

It had made her feel uncomfortable, but she’d bitten her lip until it was done and then smiled politely at the agent as he’d opened the car door for her. ‘Grazie.’

The agent hadn’t said much. He’d had that mysterious, moody, steely exterior down perfectly, getting into the car and saying into his phone in Italian, ‘I have the parcel. Delivering in fifteen minutes—that’s fifteen minutes.’

She’d raised her eyebrows, having never been referred to as a parcel before. She’d been called a lot of other things in her life, but never a parcel.

The car purred its way through another set of arches and then came to rest outside a columned terrace. The agent got out, adjusted the buttons on the front of his dark suit and looked about him before opening her door.

Krystiana stepped out, her nerves getting the better of her at last, and wished she’d had something to eat before leaving home. Just something that would have settled her stomach. But there’d been almost no time to prepare. The call had come in unexpectedly. She was needed immediately. There had just been time to pack a bag for an overnight stay. To call her neighbour and ask her to feed and walk Bruno.

A day of living in the palace! It was almost a dream. That a woman like her—a woman who had been raised initially in Krakow, Poland—should find herself hobnobbing with royalty.

Well, it wasn’t exactly hobnobbing. It was work. Standing in for the royal doctor to run the Crown Prince through his yearly physical. She’d been chosen because she shared a clinic with Dr Bonetti, the King’s private physician, and had already had her background checked. That was what happened when your colleague was the King’s doctor. There could be no chance of any impropriety connected with the royals.

They’d already had enough excitement, after all.

A red carpet led from the car up to the white stone steps and into the palace proper.

On wobbly legs she ascended the stairs, aware that the agent was following along behind her. She assumed someone else would bring her bag. As she neared the top of the steps and saw the opulent interior of the palace she felt her pulse quicken, and her mouth went as dry as the Dune Dorate—the Golden Dunes.

She tried her hardest to appear nonchalant as she walked across the marble floor towards a man dressed like a butler, who had the rigid stature of an old soldier.

‘Dr Szenac, welcome to the Grand Palace. It is a pleasure to welcome you to these halls. My name is Sergio and I shall be your attendant whilst you are here. Have you been to the palace before?’

She shook her head, her long golden plait swinging at her back. ‘No. It’s my first time.’

‘Oh! Well, please don’t let it be your last. I’m reliably informed that the public tours are very entertaining and informative, if you wish to know anything of its history.’

She’d never been one to study history. History should stay in the past, where it belonged. Not be dragged back into the present at every opportunity. She could appreciate beautiful architecture, and respect the amount of time a building had stood in place, but she was far more interested in the people who lived in it now.

‘Thank you. I might do that one day.’

Sergio led her up a curved stairwell, adorned with portraiture of Kings and Queens of the past. She could see the familiar glossy black hair and beautiful blue eyes of the Romano family in most of them. Occasionally there was a portrait of someone who had married into the family, including the one she stood in front of now: Queen Marianna, sadly passed.

‘She was beautiful, wasn’t she?’ asked Sergio.

‘Most definitely.’

‘And not just in looks. She had a very kind heart. It broke her when her son was taken. She died never knowing of his safe return.’

Krystiana nodded. It was tragic. Crown Prince Matteo’s kidnapping had been a story she had followed with bated breath, praying for his safe release. It had been a couple of years ago now, but still, she knew in her heart that it would never be forgotten by those involved.

‘The Prince must have been devastated when he got home to discover his mother had died?’

Sergio nodded sadly. ‘They were very close. Ah, here are your quarters.’

He stopped in front of a set of double doors and swung them open wide, and once again she tried to appear unaffected by the riches within, simply nodding and smiling.

‘Thank you, Sergio. These look wonderful. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.’

‘Your initial appointment with the Prince is at three this afternoon. Take time to settle in. Pull this red sash—’ he indicated a brocade sash that hung by the white marble fireplace ‘—if you want anything and I’ll be with you momentarily.’

‘Thank you.’

‘A servant will bring up your bag. Are there any refreshments I can get you? A drink, perhaps?’

She was thirsty, and now that some of her nerves were settling she felt that maybe she could eat. ‘Some coffee would be wonderful. And some water? Maybe a bite to eat? I had to come here in rather a rush and I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to dine.’

‘I’ll have a selection of food brought up to you immediately. Do you have any allergies or food preferences?’

‘No.’

He bowed. ‘Then I will be back shortly. Welcome to the Grand Palace, Doctor.’ And he departed, closing the doors behind him.

Krystiana spun around, headed straight over to the doors in the far wall and flung them back, allowing in the bright sunshine, the freedom of the outdoors, as she stepped out onto a large terrace and breathed in the scent of bougainvillea, jasmine and columbine.

An array of flowers grew in small ornamental pots, framed by clipped firs in taller blue pots. A table and six chairs were sheltered by a large umbrella. Below her were the private royal gardens and she took a moment to take in the sight. They were simply gorgeous: a low maze with a water feature at its centre—a stone horse crashing through stone waves—an ornamental garden, a lily pond, a mosaic. Little paths ran here and there—one down to a grotto, another through a set of rose arches to a circular bench and a bust.

Someone had poured a lot of heart and soul into this garden. She wondered who. Some gardener? A series of them? Each of them adding something new during their term, perhaps?

Beyond the palace walls she saw olive groves, small terracotta-coloured churches, roadside shrines and undulating hillsides that shimmered with heat from the overhead sun. It was something she could paint. She often turned to creativity when she was stressed. She’d never had such a view before—she had to sketch it before she left.

Not that I could ever forget this.

The view had a timeless quality. She almost felt she could stand there all day admiring it. But reality beckoned, and so she turned to observe her rooms more carefully. It was the most sumptuous suite—all white marble and silver accents. A large bed occupied the centre of the bedroom, with pristine white sheets and a gold counterpane. There was a desk and chair in the living room, a comfortable pair of sofas in palest cornflower-blue and vases of fresh flowers on almost every surface. A door in the corner of the bedroom led to an en-suite bathroom, with a sunken bath in the centre, a walk-in shower, a toilet and bidet and a huge assortment of toiletries in a room that was all mirrors.

Briefly, she wondered about the poor maids who had to clean it each day, buffing it to a shine, because not a single surface had a fingerprint or a smudge on it anywhere.

But what would you expect in a palace?

The opulence was meant to make her feel good. Treasured and important. But Krystiana had always preferred simplicity and rustic touches. Wooden bowls, plain knives and forks for her food. Simple cloth mats beneath her plate. Watercolours. Plain whitewashed walls—the minimalist look, with stone and driftwood she’d collected from the beach where she walked each day, barefoot, her trousers rolled up as she paddled in the water.

All of this was nice. Amazing, in fact. But it wasn’t real.

She felt like Alice through the looking glass, looking at a world she didn’t quite understand. But she was keen to know more.

* * *

Crown Prince Matteo Romano shook the hand of the cultural attaché from Portugal and bade him a safe journey home. He was looking forward to the future visit he would take to Lisbon, to see for himself the amazing artwork said to be displayed in Galleria 111. The attaché had done a fine job of convincing him the place was worth fitting in to his schedule, especially as he was such a fan of the surrealist painter António Dacosta, the work of whom the gallery had confirmed they had a huge stock.

As soon as the attaché had left, Matteo let out a breath and relaxed for a moment. He was almost done with his schedule for today. A few brief moments alone, and then he would meet the new doctor who had been brought in due to Dr Bonetti’s family emergency.

He hoped everything was all right with the man’s family. He’d known Dr Bonetti for years, and had met his wife and children. They’d all dined together on occasion and he thought very well of them all. He envied the doctor his happy marriage and his smiling children. They all seemed so together. So...content.

None of them had the stresses that were placed upon his shoulders. Who could understand the burden of being a prince, a future king, without having lived in his shoes?

He reached for the coffee that Sergio had brought in earlier, along with the news that the stand-in doctor had arrived and was settling in. The drink was cooler than he’d like—his meeting with the Portuguese attaché had gone on longer than he’d expected—but he continued to drink it until it was finished. Then, needing the freshness of the outdoors and the calm that viewing the gardens gave him, he stepped out of the terrace doors onto the balcony to gaze down into the palace gardens.

As always, he felt serenity begin to settle in his soul and he closed his eyes and breathed in the warm, fragrant air. Perfezionare. Perfect. His hands came to rest on the rich stone balustrade and for a moment he just stood there, centring himself. Grounding himself.

Behind him there was the gentle sound of Sergio clearing his throat. ‘Dr Krystiana Szenac, sir.’

‘Grazie, Sergio.’

He turned and there she was. Dressed in a black knee-length skirt and an emerald-green blouse, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulder in a long plait. A hint of make-up and an amazing smile.

She curtsied. ‘Your Highness.’

‘Dr Szenac. It’s a pleasure.’ He stepped forward to shake her hand. ‘I appreciate you coming at short notice and hope our pulling you from your schedule hasn’t disrupted your life too much.’

‘No. Not at all. I was able to make new arrangements. When your country calls, you answer.’

He smiled. ‘Indeed. I take it your journey was uneventful?’

‘It was wonderful, thank you.’

‘And Dr Bonetti?’

‘His wife has been taken into emergency surgery, but I’m afraid that’s all I know.’

Emergency surgery? That didn’t sound good.

‘Let us hope she pulls through. Alexis Bonetti is a strong woman—I’m sure her constitution will hold her in good stead.’

She nodded. ‘I hope so.’

‘May I offer you a refreshment before we settle down?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. Sergio had some coffee brought to my room.’

‘Excellent.’

He stared at her for a moment more and then indicated that maybe they should sit down at one of the tables on the sun terrace. He pulled out a chair for her, and she smiled her thanks at him as she sat down.

He sat opposite. ‘Well, I’ll try not to keep you here too long. I just need my yearly physical to be carried out. Dr Bonetti usually does the deed, but this year it will be down to you—if that’s all right?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘He usually runs a barrage of tests—I’m sure there’s a list somewhere. And then, if I’m all okay, he signs me off for another year.’

‘I know what to do—don’t worry. He emailed me your file, with a list of assessments I need to put you through and the paperwork that needs filling out.’ Dr Szenac smiled. ‘According to your file you’re in very good health, and your last couple of physicals had you back at full health after your...’ she looked uncomfortable ‘...blip.’

‘My kidnapping. Yes. Well... Two years in a cave, will do that to any man.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. My apologies for bringing it up.’

‘Not at all. My therapist says it’s good to talk about it. The more often the better.’

She smiled her thanks.

He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, so he tried to change the subject. ‘You’re originally from Poland?’

‘Yes. Krakow.’

‘I’ve never been there. What’s it like?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t been there for years. I just remember the grey and the cold.’

He saw her shiver and it intrigued him that she could still feel it, all these years later, just thinking about it.

‘When did you move here?’

‘When my mother died. My father was...away, and I had no one else except for my Aunt Carolina, who lives here.’

‘On Isla Tamoura?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’m very glad you’re here.’ He smiled.

She nodded. ‘Yes. Me too.’

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN KRYSTIANA WOKE the next morning, the first thing she did was reach over and turn off her night-light. It was an automatic thing—something she hardly noticed doing—but today when she did so she stared at it for a moment, wondering if Crown Prince Matteo had one too.

For two years he’d been stuck in a cave. Was he now afraid of the dark?

Throwing off the bedcovers, she got up and threw open the double doors to the sun terrace. The fragrant air poured in and she closed her eyes for a moment as the warm rays from the sun caressed her skin. This was what she loved about living here. The warmth. The colour. The heat. The beauty of this treasured isle.

How fortunate that her aunt lived here. It had been exactly what she had needed after her experience at the hands of her father—to leave such an ugly existence behind and come to a place that only had beauty at its core. There had been a new language to learn, but wonderful, loving, passionate people to support her. New friends. A new life. Isla Tamoura had given her a new beginning, a new hope, and she loved it here so much.

Krystiana took a quick shower and braided her long hair into its usual plait, donned a summery dress and sat down to eat the breakfast that had been brought in on a tray. She was used to eating breakfast alone. She quite enjoyed it. But this time, before her day started, she grabbed her pad and pencils and began sketching the view from her balcony. This afternoon she would be going home again, so there was no time to spare.

Her sketch was vague. Outlines and shapes. She would fill in the colour later, allowing her imagination to take flight. She took a couple of quick photos using her phone.

She almost lost track of time, and when she did glance at her watch she saw there were only a few minutes until nine o clock—her scheduled time to give the Prince his yearly physical. She left her pad and pencil on the bed, finished her orange juice and then pulled the sash to call Sergio. She wasn’t sure exactly where in the palace the examination would take place.

Sergio arrived, looking as perfectly presented as always. ‘Good morning, Dr Szenac. I hope you slept well?’

‘Very well, Sergio, thank you. I have my appointment with His Highness Prince Matteo, to start his physical, but I’m not sure where I have to go.’

He nodded. ‘I believe you are expected in the private gym. Dr Bonetti always carries out the yearly check-ups there.’

‘Thank you.’ She’d had no idea the palace had its own gym—but, then again, why wouldn’t it? Matteo and his family could hardly pop out to the local leisure centre if they wanted to lift a few weights, could they?

Sergio led her through the palace, down long tapestry-filled hallways, past vast vases so big she could have climbed inside and not been seen even standing upright. They passed a coat of arms, a suit of armour, and fireplaces filled with flowers, until he brought her to a set of double doors.

‘The gym, Dr Szenac. All of Dr Bonetti’s equipment has been laid out for you, and the computer has been set up for you to enter the results of each test for the record.’

‘Thank you—that’s very kind.’

‘The computer isn’t likely to be difficult, but if you do have any queries we have an IT expert on hand.’

‘That’s marvellous.’

Sergio smiled and opened the doors.

The gym was filled with all types of equipment—treadmills, stair-masters, weight machines, free-standing weights, workout equipment, yoga mats. Anything and everything seemed to be here, and one wall was made of glass that revealed a room beyond filled with a full-length swimming pool.

Pretty impressive!

But she didn’t have time to linger. The Prince would be here at any moment and she wanted to be prepared.

She was running her eye over what she needed to achieve today, reminding herself of the assessments, when she became aware of a presence behind her.

‘Dr Szenac.’

She turned and bowed slightly. ‘Your Highness.’

‘I’m ready, if you are?’

Smiling, she nodded. ‘Absolutely. Ready to begin with the basics? I’ll need to do blood pressure, pulse and SATs.’

‘Perfect.’

‘All right. Take a seat.’

She began to set up her equipment—the pulse oximeter that she’d place on his finger to measure not only his pulse but the oxygen levels in his blood, and the arm cuff around his upper arm that would measure his blood pressure.

His basic measurements were perfect. Exactly what she’d expected them to be.

‘Okay, now I need to check your height and weight.’

‘I don’t think I’ve shrunk.’

She smiled. ‘Glad to hear it.’

Again, his weight was perfect for his height.

‘Now I’d like to set you up for a treadmill test. I’ll need to attach you to a breathing tube, so we can measure oxygen intake, heart-rate and lung capacity whilst you run up a slight incline for three minutes.’

He nodded. ‘Can I warm up first?’

‘By all means.’

She looked at his previous measurements and typed them into the computer, aware that Matteo was stripping off behind her and beginning to stretch.

When she turned around she noted that he was in excellent physical shape. Clearly he used the gym often to keep fit. His muscle tone was almost beautiful. His figure was sculpted, without being overly worked. It seemed almost wrong to look at him and admire him like that. Not least because he was a prince.

‘Right, I need to attach these electrodes, if that’s okay?’

Does my voice sound weird?

He stood still whilst she attached the electrodes to his chest and body, trying her hardest not to make eye contact, then attached the wires that hooked him up to the machine for a reading. She fastened a breathing mask around his nose and mouth, and suddenly there was that eye contact thing.

She could feel herself blushing. ‘Okay... For the first minute I want you just to walk at a steady pace and then, when I tell you, I’m going to increase the speed and I want you to jog.’

‘All right.’

‘Ready?’

He gave her a thumbs-up and she started the treadmill and the EKG monitor that would read his heart’s electrical activity. The machine began printing out on a paper roll and she watched it steadily, keeping a careful eye out for any issues, but it all looked fine.

She glanced up at him as he ran with a steady pace, his body like a well-oiled machine as he tackled the jog easily. His oxygen intake was perfect; his heart-rate was elevated, but not too much.

When the three minutes were over she switched everything off and then laid a hand on his wrist to check his pulse. She felt it pounding away beneath her fingertips and kept count, then made a note of the result.

‘You’re doing brilliantly.’

He pulled off the mask. ‘Good to know.’

‘You work out a lot?’

‘Can’t you tell?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, I...er...yes... You look very...er...’

He laughed. ‘I meant can’t you tell from my results?’

She flushed even redder and laughed with him. ‘Oh, I see.’ She nodded. ‘Yes!’

‘I try to do thirty minutes every other day, alternating with the pool. Lifting weights. Half an hour of cardio...’

‘You do more than me.’

‘It’s easier for me. My life is scheduled to the minute, so I know when I can fit things in to get everything done.’

She was curious. ‘Is that a perk or a drawback?’ she asked. She wasn’t sure she’d want to be so regimentally scheduled each day. What about free time? What about spontaneity?

‘It depends on the day.’ He laughed again, wiping his face with a towel.

‘And today?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, I have this, and then I get to spend some time with my daughter.’

‘Princess Alexandra? She’s beautiful. How old is she now?’

‘Five.’

‘You must be very proud of her.’

‘I am. But I don’t get to spoil her as often as I would like.’

Of course not. She didn’t live with him. The Princess lived with her mother, at her family’s private estate.

‘That must be hard for you?’

He stared into her eyes. ‘You have no idea.’

Oh, but I do, she thought. I know how hard it is being away from those you love. I know only too well.

She blinked rapidly and turned away, forcing her mind back to the assessment. ‘Next test.’

‘I’m all yours.’ He did a mock bow.

Krystiana smiled and then indicated that he should move to the next machine.

* * *

They were just about finished with their testing when the doors to the gym opened and in walked Sergio, looking grave. It was the most solemn Matteo had ever seen him.

He finished towelling himself down and raised an eyebrow. ‘Sergio? What is it?’

‘I have some unfortunate news for Dr Szenac, sir.’

She looked up from her notes and frowned. Was it about Dr Bonetti’s wife?

‘I’m afraid there’s been an accident at your villa. A drunk driver tried to take the corner near your abode too fast and ploughed into your home. I’m afraid your living area and bedroom have been almost destroyed, and the property is not safe for you to reside in just yet.’

Matteo was shocked and looked to Dr Szenac. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Her face was almost white. ‘Is the driver all right?’

He was impressed at how her concern was immediately for the driver.

‘I believe he got away quite lightly, all things considered. He’s being treated by the medics now.’

‘Okay. Good. That’s good.’ She turned away, her thoughts in a distant place. ‘Oh, my God. What about Bruno?’

‘Bruno?’

‘My dog. He’s a rescue.’

‘I believe your neighbour was out on a walk with him at the time,’ Sergio replied.

‘Oh, thank goodness!’

She sank down into a chair, her legs obviously trembling, and put her head in her hands. Matteo felt for her. Was her home ruined?

‘You must stay here with us. Until everything is fixed.’

She looked up, tears in her eyes. ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’

‘Nonsense! It’s done. Sergio, could you arrange for Dr Szenac’s clothes and anything she needs to be brought to her quarters here in the palace? Including her dog, who I’m sure will bring her great comfort. We’re going to have a guest for a while.’

‘I don’t know what to say...’ she said, beginning to cry.

He smiled. ‘Say yes.’

She looked at him for a long moment and he saw gratitude. ‘Then, yes. Thank you. Yes.’

He nodded. ‘Sergio? Make it happen.’

* * *

‘I’m so lucky I was here when it happened, she said later. Otherwise I might have been injured!’

‘Well, you were here, and that’s all that matters.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. There’s no point in wondering about what might have happened. You just need to worry about what is happening.’ He smiled. ‘I learned that in therapy. Look at me—spreading the knowledge.’

She smiled as she stroked Bruno’s fur. They’d had a joyous reunion when Sergio had returned with her dog, her clothes, her computer and some rather startling photographs of the damage to her villa.

‘That’s going to take weeks to repair,’ she’d said.

‘Let me take care of that,’ Matteo had offered.

‘I couldn’t possibly let you do that! It will cost a fortune!’

‘Are you insured?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then don’t worry about it. Let me do something good for you. You were kind enough to step in at the last minute and help me out when I needed a doctor—let me step in and help you out when you need a...’

‘A builder?’ She’d laughed.

He’d smiled back. ‘A knight in shining armour. Didn’t you see my suit of armour downstairs? It’s very polished.’

So of course she’d thanked him profusely, feeling so terribly grateful for all that he was doing to help her out.

‘I appreciate that. I really do.’

‘Nonsense. It’s what friends do.’

And she’d smiled. Were they friends? ‘Thank you.’

* * *

Matteo had invited her to dine with him that evening.

‘You can bring Bruno. If he’s lucky we might be able to feed him titbits under the table.’

‘He’ll never want to leave this place if you do that.’

And now they sat on his sun terrace, awaiting their meal, staring out across the gardens below and watching the sun slowly set.

‘By the way, I don’t know if you’ve heard but Dr Bonetti’s wife has pulled through. She’s in a stable condition and expected to go home soon. He phoned from the hospital. Let my secretary know.’

‘That’s excellent news! Wow. So good to have such great news after earlier. And the driver who hit my home? Do we know about him?’

‘Already home. And already charged by the police for drink driving. He’s to attend court in a few days’ time.’

‘If it was an accident I’m sure he’s very sorry.’

Matteo sipped his water. ‘Unfortunately, from what I’ve discovered, the man is a known drunk. He’s already had his licence taken from him and the car wasn’t even his. It was his son’s and he’d “borrowed” it.’

‘Oh.’

‘We’ll get him into a programme.’

‘We?’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘My pack of royal enforcers,’ he said with a straight face, knowing there was no such pack at all.

‘Enforcers?’

He laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t really have enforcers. I was just... Look, he needs help. Someone will go and visit him and make sure he enrols into a programme that will get him the help he needs. Before he kills someone next time.’

‘Maybe I could go and see him myself?’

‘Is that wise? You’re emotionally involved.’

‘Which is why he might listen to me. Meeting the actual victim of his crime might make more of an impact.’

‘Was hitting your wall not enough?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘How do you know so much about crime and victimology?’

She looked down and away from him then, and he realised there was a story there. Something she wasn’t willing to share.

‘I’m sorry—you don’t have to answer that.’

She laughed. ‘Don’t therapists suggest that talking is good for the soul?’

He nodded. ‘They do. But only when you’re ready. Are you ready?’

‘I don’t know.’

He sipped his drink. ‘You’ll know when it’s the right time. And, more importantly, if it’s the right person to talk to. You don’t really know me, so I quite understand.’

She stared back at him. Consideringly. Her eyes were cool. ‘I think you’d understand more than most.’

He considered this. Intrigued. ‘Oh?’

She paused. Looked uncertain. And then he saw it in her face. The determination to push forward and just say it.

‘I was six years old. And I was taken.’

‘Taken?’ His blood almost froze, despite the warmth of the sun.

‘My father buried me in a hole in the ground.’

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