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Poor Casimiro. Poor, poor Casimiro, she thought painfully as she read on.
The dashing royal, 34, who recently acceded to the throne of the tiny island kingdom, has been airlifted to the capital’s hospital, where he remains in a coma. Doctors are refusing to comment on claims that the King is near death. His younger brother, Xaviero, 33 (pictured, right), is tonight on his way from South America to be at his stricken brother’s bedside. This is not the first time that tragedy has struck the fabulously wealthy di Cesere family. In a cruel twist of fate, Queen Sophia—the King’s mother and a noted beauty—died of a brain haemorrhage a quarter of a century ago.
Instinctively, Cathy began to examine the snatched photo, taken at Bogotá airport. Xaviero looked grim-faced and ravaged—his hand raised as if to strike the camera from the hands of the person taking the photograph. He looked haunted, she thought—and her heart went out to him.
Staring blandly at her now-cold coffee, she wondered if there was any way she could help. But Xaviero would be home by now, surrounded by advisors and guided by protocol, no doubt—what on earth could she possibly do?
Until she remembered that he had given her his cell-phone number—though possibly it was the only time a number had been handed out with the instruction not to use it.
‘Only if it is absolutely necessary,’ he had told her, his stern face leaving her in no doubt that he meant every word. ‘If, for example, you were to discover that you were pregnant.’ He had acknowledged her shocked little intake of breath, and had nodded, his face grim. ‘And yes, I know we have taken every precaution, but accidents can and do happen—though, obviously, we both sincerely hope that this is not the case.’
Cathy bit her lip. What would she do if it were anyone else? If it were a friend or a colleague, someone she cared about or even someone she had cared about? Why, even if it were Peter—her errant fiancé—she would send him a message straight away, telling him to hang on in there and that she was thinking of him. But this was different. Imagine the amount of people who would be trying to get in touch with a man as important as Xaviero. She was crazy to even think of trying.
As the days dragged by she couldn’t settle. She kept thinking about Xaviero and wondering how his brother was faring—but even though she scoured the newspapers and the Internet for news there was no new update on his condition.
But one evening her conscience got the better of her and she knew she had to contact him. Who cared if it was the wrong thing to do, or if it was some diplomatic no-no? Or even if he thought her a fool for doing so? This wasn’t about her—it was about him.
Sitting down on the rather scruffy sofa, she carefully composed words of comfort in her head before she dared translate them into a text message—terrified that he might think she was writing to him simply because she had an ulterior motive. In the end, she simply wrote: ‘DESPERATELY SORRY TO HEAR YOUR BROTHER SO SICK. MY THOUGHTS WITH YOU. CATHY.’ She hesitated before adding a single ‘X’, and then she pressed the ‘send’ button before she could change her mind.
She didn’t expect to hear anything and when the phone began to ring a bit later on she thought it was probably Sandy, who’d been trying to persuade her to go to a comedy stand-up evening in town. But a quick glance at the screen of her cell phone set her heart racing in disbelief. It said…it said…
Xaviero?
Heart pounding, Cathy snatched up the receiver. ‘H-hello?’
‘Cathy?’
‘Yes, it’s me. Oh, Xaviero, I’m so s—’
His words cut across hers. ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am. Xaviero—how’s your bro—?’
Again he interrupted. ‘I can’t talk for long and I can’t guarantee the security of the line. I need you to listen carefully, Cathy—and then to answer me. Can you come out to Zaffirinthos?’
‘Wh-when?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But, Xaviero—I don’t understand—’
‘I told you.’ His voice sounded strained. ‘I can’t talk now—all I need is your answer—a simple yes, or no?’
Her mind was spinning as she tried to take in his extraordinary request, but on another level she registered the harshness of his tone. Her acquaintanceship with Xaviero might not have been long but it had certainly been intense and she knew that a tone like that brooked no argument.
Which meant that if she went, she would be going into the unknown…
‘You hesitate, Cathy,’ came the cool interruption to her swirling thoughts.
