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Right now he would try anything to make her stay. Even for one more day. Anything to give himself a bit of time to try and make a plan. A plan to find a way to make things better for Arissa.
He could see from her face that she knew what he was doing. He was trying to use her professional responsibility to will her into staying. ‘I’m sure it will all go to plan,’ she said, zipping up her case.
‘But we need you to see it through. To help with the final touches. The protocols.’ He winced. ‘The press releases. The way we get the word out there to those that need it, that there is a safe place to leave your baby—no questions asked.’
There was an edge of desperation to his voice that he couldn’t even pretend to hide. The woman that had stolen his heart was standing in front of him hurt and confused, all because he’d asked her to come here and work with him.
This was his fault. His.
He should have known better. People had been curious about him all his life. Of course someone would comment about her—particularly if he showed any interest in her. And the truth was he hadn’t tried to hide it because he didn’t want to.
His family could see it. All of them had given him knowing looks last night.
He’d been proud to show her off. Proud that his family liked her. Touched that his mother had taken such an interest in her and could obviously see how important she was to him, thus welcoming her into the family.
If he’d thought this through, if he’d planned better, he would have spoken to palace advisors. He would have spoken to Arissa about her reluctance to be in the spotlight. He hadn’t understood what it meant to her.
And even though it was too late, now he did.
Arissa bowed her head.
‘Don’t go, Arissa. Not like this. I care about you.’ He stepped closer and said words that a few years ago he’d never thought he’d say again. ‘You mean too much to me.’
He could tell from the look in her eyes it wasn’t enough. The pictures continued to flash up on the screen behind her.
Pictures that captured for the whole world exactly how much he loved this woman.
But he didn’t need the pictures to tell him that. The way his heart was squeezing inside his chest told him all he needed to know.
After the longest time Arissa lifted her head. ‘I’ll stay until tomorrow. I’ll talk over the protocols with the staff at the fire and rescue station as the safe haven cot is being installed and make sure they’re clear what to do.’ She tilted her chin, her voice gaining an edge of determination. ‘But I want absolutely no publicity. I’m happy to help draft a statement for the media around the project but that’s it. After that I go.’
He’d pulled at her professional responsibilities. But he hadn’t pulled at her heartstrings.
He gave a nod of his head. Right now, he would agree to anything that meant he could hold onto her just a few moments longer.
‘I’m sorry about your patient. Our press advisors will contact the TV station and put in an official complaint, along with a warning about talking to any of your other patients.’ He meant it. He really did. She had a right to her privacy—as did her patients.
And it was up to him to sort this.
‘If we’re finished, I’d like to be alone now,’ Arissa said, her voice stoic.
He gave a brief nod. ‘Of course.’
He hated this. He hated every single part of it. He’d exposed the woman he loved to hurt and he wasn’t sure how he could fix this—if he could at all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE ROOM WAS CLAUSTROPHOBIC. Even though it was beautiful, even though it had views of the expansive gardens, it still felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Every pore in her body right now wanted to get out of here.
But the work was important. They’d moved quickly in Corinez to accommodate the safe haven cot. It seemed that if an order came from a prince, things moved at lightning speed.
An older man knocked and came into the room. He was dressed impeccably in black and held out a hand. ‘Jacques Feraunt, Head of Security. I am so sorry, Dr Cotter. But, rest assured, we’ve discovered the leak.’
She pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the tears that were forming in her eyes. ‘You have?’
He nodded. ‘It seems that one of our members of staff had been hounded and offered a considerable amount of money to try and capture a photograph of you and the Prince.’ He shook his head. ‘Regrettably, even though all our waiting staff sign non-disclosure agreements, this individual felt unduly pressured. They had health issues for a family member at home and decided that the money could get them the help they needed.’ His face was serious. ‘They took the pictures on their mobile phone. We traced them this morning, and they’ve obviously been dismissed. We will be taking further legal action against them, and the newspapers involved.’
She felt numb. It was as if little creatures were crawling up her arms. She was angry, but the circumstances made her question things.
‘What kind of health problems?’ she asked.
Jacques looked a little surprised by her question. ‘Excuse me?’
‘What kind of health problems does the family member have?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I believe the member of staff’s younger sibling has a form of leukaemia.’
She stood up. ‘And they can’t get treatment?’
Jacques shifted on his feet. He was obviously trying t
o choose his words carefully. ‘Healthcare in Corinez is complicated, Dr Cotter. None of it is free. Everything has to be paid for.’
She murmured to herself, ‘And that’s what Philippe is trying to change with baby steps.’ She looked back out over the gardens, her brain mulling over everything she’d heard.
‘Can I have the use of a car?’
Now Jacques was definitely surprised. ‘A car?’
She nodded. ‘I’d like to meet them. The family. The sick kid. This is my speciality. My life’s work. If that kid needs to be seen, and a consultation and treatment plan, then I can do that, I can advise. I can do it for free.’
Jacques looked wary. ‘I’m not sure that’s wise, Dr Cotter.’
She stepped forward. ‘You’re in charge of security, are you not?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Then I trust you can arrange this. And I trust you can get me where I need to go safely, and without any publicity.’
He gave a brief nod and she lifted her hand to touch the sleeve of his jacket as she tilted her chin upwards. ‘I didn’t get where I am in this life by always being wise, Mr Feraunt. I got where I am by being compassionate.’
* * *
His mother was waiting when he got back to his room. She was dressed impeccably as always and sitting at his desk. She looked over at his rumpled clothes and raised her brows. ‘What are you going to do about this?’
‘She wants to leave.’ He couldn’t stop the words hurtling out of his mouth.
His mother drummed her fingers on the desk; it was clear she was thinking. ‘Of course she does,’ she said quietly. She licked her lips. ‘What about you?’
He moved over and sagged into the oversized chair on the other side of the desk. ‘What do you mean—what about me?’
She looked straight at him. ‘What’s the most important thing to you right now, Philippe? What’s your priority?’
It was almost as if the world stopped all around him. Everything. No birds singing. No people moving through the corridors of the palace. The stillness amplified in his ears.
