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It set so many alarms pulsing through him.
He was a doctor. He had difficult conversations on a daily basis. He’d always thought he was good at reading signs from his patients. When they were stressed. When they were hiding something. When they were lying.
He’d thought his instincts were normally good. He knew when to push, and when to let something go.
But last night with Arissa it seemed all his usual instincts had flown up into the glittering night sky.
He’d pressed and pressed her when he knew he shouldn’t. He just couldn’t understand how someone would be part of such an important research project and not want to take any credit for it.
Publishing research was huge in the medical world. Some of his colleagues desperately fought to be involved in studies that they thought could lead to publication and prestige. He’d met people before who genuinely weren’t interested in clinical research and just wanted to focus on the job, but he’d never met someone who’d taken part and didn’t want to be included in the final result.
It was odd. It was beyond odd. Particularly when, once she had a national platform, she could also use it to talk about the thing that really was true to her heart—the safe haven project. She could find a way to tie the things together. He knew he would.
Her half-hearted explanation of it not being her field hadn’t washed with him. Plenty of people changed their speciality or kept an open plan, allowing them to be involved in several projects. It had to be something else—but right now, particularly when he wasn’t being entirely honest himself, he didn’t feel in a position to push any further.
Arissa appeared to be entirely unique.
But then he’d already thought that when he’d met her.
Philippe had dated plenty of women. You only had to pick up the gossip magazines of Corinez to see the playboy prince tag that wasn’t entirely unjustified. He might have gone on a bit of a dating frenzy after the actress fiasco. Whether that was to try and get over his hurt, or just to try and get back out there, he wasn’t quite sure. Somehow he had a feeling that if Arissa learned of the playboy prince tag she wouldn’t be entirely impressed.
It didn’t help that his brother, Anthony, had been dating his wife-to-be for practically his entire life. There was no gossip there—no story. So the press had to concentrate on someone.
He’d spent most of his life in the spotlight. It was part and parcel of being a prince and, although sometimes intrusive, he’d got used to it.
His stomach growled and he quickly ate the toast, dressing as he drank the tea. It was still before seven as he reached the clinic.
His hand hesitated at the handle of the door. What if Arissa was still in a bad mood? What if she was still unhappy with him? He would have to try and make some amends.
As soon as he pushed open the door his nose wrinkled at the smell—the very enticing smell.
Steam was coming from two coffee cups sitting on the table in the staff room, along with a plate of chocolate croissants. It seemed there was a French bakery somewhere in Temur Sapora.
‘Oh, you’re here.’ Arissa halted as she walked over with another plate in her hands. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she was wearing a green knee-length shirt dress with a simple tie at the waist. As he moved closer the scent of freesias drifted towards him. He’d noticed it before around her, either her shampoo or her perfume.
‘Yes, I’m here,’ he said carefully. ‘Weren’t you expecting me?’
She licked her lips and pushed one of the plates towards him. She seemed nervous. ‘Yes, well, I’d hoped you’d still come. Here. I brought a peace offering.’
He tried to hide the smile that wanted to appear as relief flooded through him. ‘Why would you need a peace offering?’
She gave a forced kind of smile. ‘I think I might have been a bit uptight last night. I thought a visit to our French bakery might stop you deciding to withdraw your services.’
He pulled out a chair and sat down, sliding one of the coffees towards him. ‘You thought I would withdraw my services?’ Now he truly was surprised.
She gave a half-shrug. ‘I might have stayed up half the night worrying about it.’
He shook his head and reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m not going to walk away and leave you on your own.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘No matter how cranky you are.’
She mimicked his expression, raising her own eyebrows. ‘Cranky?’ she queried, grabbing one of the chocolate croissants and ripping it in half, revealing the half-melted chocolate.
He nodded as he took a sip of the coffee. ‘Oh, yeah, you’re definitely cranky. But, hey, you’re stuck with me for the next couple of weeks. I told you. I’m bored.’
He was keeping things simple. If he didn’t ask Arissa too many questions, hopefully she would return the favour. It was nice being under the radar for a while and there were benefits to keeping it that way.
The last few months working in one of the hospitals in Corinez had been a different experience from working across the globe. He’d started to take for granted the anonymity of working in other countries. Back home in Corinez everyone knew who he was. Some even addressed him as ‘Your Highness’. As much as he wished it wouldn’t, it impacted on his work. He’d found things much more difficult back home. But here in Temur Sapora he was regaining the chance of just being Philippe, the regular doctor. Not Philippe, the Prince. And he’d forgotten how much he missed that.
But it seemed that Arissa didn’t want to go into too many details herself. She gave a grateful nod and reached for a laptop. ‘I have a way to stop you being bored.’
‘You do?’ He leaned a little closer.
She pulled up some lists of patients. ‘There’s a number of patients I’d like to review today—and, if you don’t mind, there’s a few I’d like you to review too.’
Philippe gave a nod and turned the laptop towards him as he glanced over the list of patients. There was a wide variety. A few of them were on the research study, some had already attended the clinic with chest complaints and been asked to return for review. Another few had minor complaints and required stitches removed.
Philippe gave a smile. Nothing here was arduous. ‘No problem. Happy to review all these patients, plus any others that appear at the clinic today.’ He glanced at the list that Arissa had prepared for herself. It was full of more children with blood disorders. A completely specialised area that he knew she was best to work on herself.
She leaned her head on her hand and he could see her shoulders visibly relax as she tore off another part of the croissant.
He waited until she’d started chewing before he spoke again. ‘So, I wondered if we could make a trade.’
She stopped chewing and narrowed her gaze suspiciously. ‘What kind of trade?’
‘A trade for finding out more about the safe haven scheme.’
‘You’re genuinely interested?’
‘Of course I am. You set it up in your country, I want to see if I can set it up in mine.’
The words were out before he really thought about them. ‘What country is that, exactly?’ she asked.
He pasted on a smile again. ‘Just one of the lesser-known Mediterranean countries. It’s not well known but near to France, Italy and Monaco.’
She opened her mouth as if she was going to ask him to be more specific but he cut her off quickly. ‘Tell me as much as you can before the patients get here.’
* * *
The clinic was busy. The weather had been stormy these last few days and it seemed to have irritated just about anyone with a chest condition. She’d spent the morning dealing with kids and adults with asthma, older patients with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, and a variety of chest infections.
The nurses were triaging the patients as best they could, and, in the midst of all the che
st complaints, they’d had a man with an MI who they’d had to refer on to the hospital, along with a kid with a fractured wrist that required surgery.
She rounded the corner to speak to Philippe about something but stopped as he was bending over a small boy with a lacerated finger. He was speaking quietly but seemed to have really engaged with the child.
‘Okay, I’m going to need you to be my really brave champion.’ Philippe glanced over his shoulder as if it were a great secret. ‘I mean like a superhero.’
