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“So you’re a prince who decided to become a doctor?” Hattie broke the silence, wanting to know more about him, despite knowing it wasn’t smart to forge a deeper connection. “That’s very noble.”
“Thank you. I always wanted to become a doctor, especially an E.R. doc, but my dad wasn’t thrilled with the idea at first. It’s not exactly commonplace to walk into an emergency room and have a prince treat you.”
“True. I’m sure the single ladies are breaking bones just to say hello.” She studied his strong jawline and the way the smooth muscles in his arm flexed as he navigated the corners.
He grinned at her. “Not breaking bones, but we have had a few cases where we could find nothing medically wrong with a young lady except a worrisome case of ‘batting her eyelashes like a toad in a hailstorm’ as my sister-in-law Aliya would say.”
“I’m sure more than a few.”
He only smiled.
“Aliya’s from Georgia?” she asked.
“Yes. How’d you know that?”
“Social media.”
He said nothing. She wondered if the royals didn’t love their lives being splayed online.
“So who talked your dad into letting you become a doctor?” she asked.
“My mum.” He smiled, but it was sad. “She could talk our Pops into anything. He’s softened a lot since she died.”
“Oh …” Her stomach churned, and the twisting mountain road had little to do with it. She’d seen speculation that the queen was cursed or had committed suicide. “I knew that from social media too. I’m sorry for your loss.” She hated when people said that line to her about her parents. Which was silly, as what were people supposed to say? But her own loss just made her feel more lost.
He shrugged. “You wonder if it ever gets easier.”
“It doesn’t,” she ground out.
His gaze darted to hers, wide-eyed and compassionate.
“The road,” she reminded him.
He focused, but his arm muscles were more pronounced as he gripped the steering wheel. “You lost your mum as well?” he asked softly.
“Both of my parents, actually. On their yacht in Hurricane Fiona.” She spit it out before he had to wonder or ask. She didn’t tell him they, and her aunt and uncle, Sadie’s parents, had been racing to St. Kitts to help those who would be devastated by the coming hurricane. They liked to be on the ground and be able to instruct their disaster recovery teams on what to bring and how to best help. They hadn’t made it to land when the hurricane struck ahead of schedule.
“Hattie. I’m very sorry,” Steffan interrupted her musings.
“Yeah. Well. You understand.”
“It was hard enough losing my mum. I can’t imagine losing both of my parents.” There was a respectful pause, and then he asked softly, “What gets you through?”
She wished she had some deep insight to share, but all she’d done was travel and plan trips that were busy, active, and fun from eyes open to eyes closed. She’d started down that path when Jane had been murdered and only become more committed to escape when she lost her mom and dad.
Her parents had been saints, hardworking and charitable. The cream of the salt of the earth. And what legacy had they left behind? Hattie. A socialite billionaire who had accomplished exactly jack squat in the years since becoming one of the richest people in the world.
She studied the towering canyon walls, the river rushing by, the dash of the luxury car. She hated this reflection junk.
“Staying insanely busy,” she finally answered. “If I slow down, I think too much.”
Thinking about losing her parents or Jane’s death would drive her insane. Recently, she’d almost lost her beloved cousin Sadie on one of her humanitarian trips. Thankfully Sadie had been rescued by Wolf, the love of her life.
Sadie was very happy and in love and still busy saving the world with her nursing skills. Hattie saw her less than ever. She wanted to call her. After she got her phone back and was settled in her bedroom of the suite, she could relax in the tub and chat with her favorite person on earth. It sounded wonderful.
Except … she glanced over at him. Steffan would be gone.
The road descended into a picturesque valley, glowing in the dusky evening air. The mountains surrounded them on all sides. Cows grazed on the sloping green grass with bells around their necks. A church steeple stood at the center of a small cluster of homes. Probably a shop, market, and a restaurant or two amongst the red-roofed cluster. More homes dotted the valley, separated from the center village by grass and a thin ribbon of a road. These homes were half milking barn and half living area with flowers spilling out of their window boxes. She wondered how horrible the homes would smell, but she loved the ambiance. It was a hundred percent Switzerland. She’d seen this replayed a hundred times throughout their travels the past few weeks. She loved it every time.
