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She looked up at him, her dark eyes bright and beguiling. If she ducked past him or pushed him away, he’d have to respect that, but he wanted to hold her and help her and somehow fix all of this.
She shocked him when she leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his lower back. Steffan immediately wrapped her up tight and held her.
She’d been through so much in the past twelve hours. It was interesting that his perception of her was a billionaire heiress playgirl with dozens of friends, but she was very much alone right now.
No, not alone. She had him.
“You’re all right,” he said softly after a few minutes of simply holding her and letting her cry. “I’m not going anywhere, and we’ll figure this out together.”
She glanced sharply up at him. “Why are you so …” She shook her head and didn’t finish. Pulling from his grasp, she studied the windows behind him. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate …” Her lip quivered, and she broke off. “Thank you.”
She hurried into her room, and Steffan let her go this time. He stared at the closed door for a long while. Hattie seemed so confident and sassy, but she was at a low point. He was happy to help—helikedto help and serve and fix things.
But this feeling with Hattie was more than simply a desire to be there for someone who needed a friend. He wanted to be around Hattie Ballard.
Pulling his phone out, he texted his fellow doctors again. He’d already asked for help for tomorrow, but he requested a few days off. He shouldn’t be so interested in a woman who’d sworn to never return to his beloved country and was more independent than even Analisa had been.
But Hattie Ballard held his interest like no woman he’d ever met.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Hattie hurried away from the door to her suite and into the closet, shutting the door, leaning against it, and sinking to the carpeted floor. She didn’t want Steffan to hear her fall apart. She was a mess, at the lowest point she’d been since her parents died, and yet for the first time in a long time, it felt like she wasn’t alone.
Why was Steffan being so kind? She had nothing to give him—no money, no sass, no kisses, no commitment, no fun adventures. This man not only stayed around, even when she told him he could go, but he was risking so much for her, and he was taking care of her. Nobody had taken care of her. Not since her parents died.
Sadie was incredible and the person Hattie trusted more than anyone in this world, but still Hattie took on the role of caring for Sadie when they were together, paying for things, scheduling the hotels and the adventures and making sure everything worked out.
Steffan had tried to pay for everything and then he’d tipped the hotel employee and told Hattie she wouldn’t pay him back. Who did that around Hattie Ballard? Nobody. She always paid for everything. Always. It was something friends joked about, but nobody stepped forward and paid for the tip with a billionaire heiress around. What did forty euros matter to Hattie?
Then when she’d told him she’d pay him back, Steffan said, ‘No you won’t’ in that deep sexy voice, his blue eyes warming her from the inside out. She loved his voice, his accent, his blue eyes, his chivalrous nature. It was hard to think of anything she didn’t love about him. Shoot.
Closing her eyes, she tried to not be a hot mess regarding one very hot prince and focus instead on the mess Franz had created. She needed to deal with his betrayal and the fact that she’d been in Augustine today and could’ve been arrested for murder or discovered by Treven’s awful family. She’d been afraid to return to Augustine and have Jensen find her but it wasn’t the police chief she needed to worry about, it was the Rindlesbachers—powerful and underhanded terrors. If Jensen and Steffan hadn’t stepped up and taken care of her, she’d be in a much worse nightmare right now.
Even her anger at Franz and her fear of going to prison couldn’t distract her from the gentleman prince staying in her suite tonight. Steffan was unique. Incredible, really. That’s where her mind returned to over and over again. She’d almost forgotten that men could be gentlemen, and how unbelievably appealing that was. The men she traveled with usually tried to be gentlemen, with the guise of opening the door or escorting her with their hand on her lower back, but they were more than happy to let her lead out, organize, tell them what to do, and most especially foot the bill.
Steffan wasn’t a pushover, and he wasn’t a mooch. He was respectful and a true gentleman. A man’s man. A prince. A talented doctor who cared for others when he could’ve been traveling the world as a princely playboy. What did he see in her? A directionless drifter who happened to have a lot of money. Maybe he saw nothing in her and was only helping because that was what knights, or rather princes, did.
Tears traced down her face, and she didn’t even know why. Steffan was the real deal. Her dad would’ve loved him.
Unfortunately, Hattie could never go back to his country and date him properly—if he even wanted her to. She was a burden on him. She hadn’t been a burden on anyone but her parents.
Slowly standing, she realized she’d left the toiletries out in the main area. She did not want to go face Steffan to get them. She’d probably break down, tell him how impressive he was, tell him how pathetic she was, and make a fool of herself.
She sneaked to the door and listened. It was quiet. Hopefully he’d gone to one of the other suites to get some rest.
Cracking the door open, she looked out at the living area. Steffan was on the couch, texting on his phone. He glanced up and gave her a welcoming smile. Standing quickly, he crossed the room to stand in front of the sliver of the door she had open. She had to look up. She liked how tall he was. She liked everything about him.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked kindly, peeking through the crack at her.
“I forgot to grab the toiletries and pajamas.”
“Of course.” His face reflected a bit of disappointment. Had he thought she’d ask for a goodnight kiss or beg him to hold her again? Fire traced through her at the very idea of a kiss. She wanted to throw the door wide open and throw herself against his lovely chest.
Luckily he turned, strode across the living area, picked up the bag of female toiletries and the pajamas and walked back to her. She didn’t move. She didn’t open the door wide.
But she did stare, appreciating every lean inch of him. Even his walk was a confident strut of a man who knew his place in the world, was highly accomplished, and had no need to prove how impressive he was because it simply oozed from him.
He pushed the stack through the small opening. She took it, her fingers brushing against his. She jerked away. Surely she had imagined the tingly warmth produced by a simple touch.
