‘Hasta luego, Clavo.’ Marco sketched a salute with his right hand, and both men laughed wryly.
Becca was still thinking about what Lexi had told her about her new patient. Prince Charming. Ha. She’d met men like him before. The last time she’d made the mistake of falling for charm she’d learned the lesson well. In a way, she supposed that Seb had done her a favour. He’d left her at a crossroads. One way had led back to addiction, trying to wash away the pain with vodka—making her mother’s mistakes all over again. The other way led to working hard and making the best future she could—for herself, because Becca knew that she was the only one she could really rely on.
She’d made the right choice, and she wasn’t going back.
Ethan had said that the Prince was bored. So no doubt he’d be super-charming to her, wanting a distraction from his situation. Fine. He could be as charming as he liked. She’d be sweet and charming back, for the sake of the clinic. But she’d also make very sure that there was a professional distance between them, because she had no intention of being the Prince’s personal distraction.
The next morning couldn’t come fast enough for Marco’s liking. Even though he knew that ‘morning’ could mean technically anything from one second after midnight until one second to noon.
At last Ethan strolled in to Marco’s room followed by a woman in a white coat.
‘Zorro, I’ve got someone you’re dying to meet.’ He smiled. ‘Becca, I’d like you to meet—’
The woman in the white coat stepped to the side and stared at Marco. ‘Seb,’ she cut in, her voice a hoarse whisper, and all the colour drained from her face.
‘NO, THIS IS Marco—Prince Marco of Sirmontane,’ Ethan said.
Prince? What? The man definitely hadn’t been a prince when Becca had known him in South Africa at the children’s aid camp. He’d called himself Seb. Nothing more. No surname, no nothing. And she hadn’t asked for any more details because she’d had her own secrets to hide and hadn’t wanted to trade them.
At least he looked as shocked as she felt. That was one thing.
‘Becca. I didn’t know you were a hand therapist,’ he said.
‘I didn’t know you were a prince,’ she said, a little more tartly than she’d intended. Bad move. She didn’t want him to know that it bothered her.
‘You know each other?’ Ethan asked, looking surprised.
Oh, yes. In the Biblical sense, too. ‘You could say that.’ Though it turned out she hadn’t really known Seb—Marco—at all.
No wonder he’d left without a word. He was a prince, not an ordinary guy, and obviously he’d just been slumming it at the aid camp—something to do between finishing university and starting whatever it was that princes were supposed to do. Which made her relationship with him worth even less than she’d thought.
And how the press would dine out on that if they knew. A girl from the wrong side of the tracks, a girl who’d been hooked on vodka and E, a girl who’d almost ended up in the gutter … and she’d had a fling with a prince.
‘Becca—a quick word?’ Ethan said, gesturing to the door of Prince Marco’s—she couldn’t think of him as just Seb any more—room.
She went outside into the corridor with her boss.
‘Clearly there’s history here. Would you prefer someone else to treat Prince Marco?’ Ethan asked gently.
Yes, she would. She didn’t want to treat the boy she’d fallen in love with one dreamy summer. The boy who’d played guitar to her under the stars and sung songs of love in a language she didn’t know. But she’d seen the emotion in his face and known exactly what the words meant. The boy who’d made her feel so special—and then left without a single word, letting her dreams crash down round her.
But that was an emotional response. And Becca didn’t do emotional any more. She’d promised never to let herself get in a vulnerable state again. Yet, two seconds after seeing Seb for the first time in seven years, she was a mess. In shock that the past had come back to haunt her. Trying to process just how many lies she’d fallen for. Trying to get her head round the fact that Seb—the man she’d thought had been an ordinary boy—had actually been a prince in disguise.
With an effort, she pulled herself back into professional mode. ‘I’m the hand specialist. It’s my job to treat him.’
‘Not if it’s going to be a problem for you.’
She liked the fact that her boss was standing up for her. Having someone in her corner felt good; it was something she’d never known, growing up. But it also wasn’t fair to lean on Ethan and let him make excuses for her. Seb—Marco—whatever he wanted to call himself—was a patient here. Given that he was royalty, no doubt he was only here because of the reputation of the Hunter Clinic. And Becca wasn’t going to let any unprofessional behaviour on her part do anything to tarnish that reputation.
‘It’s not a problem, Ethan,’ she fibbed. ‘But thank you.’
‘Sure?’ he checked.
‘Sure.’
‘So just how do you know each other?’ Ethan asked.
‘We both worked at a children’s aid camp. Years ago. I was still a student. He’d just finished university.’ If that was true. For all she knew, that could have been another lie. She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘It’s not important.’
Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘OK. But if treating him does turn out to be a problem just talk to me and I’ll get someone else in to cover his case.’
‘Thank you. But it’ll be fine,’ Becca said. Prince Marco wasn’t going to break her heart again.
How could you break something that was already broken?
‘I guess I owe you an apology,’ Marco said when Becca walked back into the room.
‘Why?’ Becca asked. For being yet another man who’d used her and broken her heart? As if a European prince could give a damn about how an unimportant girl from an obscure family felt.
He grimaced. ‘You know why.’
And of course now she was expected to make it easy for him. Be gracious about it. Or maybe she’d just act cool and casual, as if their summer fling had been just as unimportant to her as it had obviously been to him. ‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ she said, hoping that she sounded a lot more dismissive than she felt.
‘I didn’t tell you who I was, back then.’
‘No.’ She knew it would be hypocritical of her to be mad at him for that. She’d kept her own past a total secret—from everyone else at the camp as well as him. And nobody here at the Hunter Clinic knew about that part of her life, either.
‘But I didn’t lie to you completely. My name’s Marco Sebastian Enrique Guillermo García.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Becca tried to maintain a semblance of cool. Though right at that moment she was remembering her first introduction to Seb, the guy who was to lead her team at the aid camp. She’d been nineteen and he’d been twenty-one, just graduated from university—well, unless he’d lied about his age as well. And Seb had been the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Tall, dark and handsome, with soulful eyes and a voice like melted chocolate, just a hint of a Southern Mediterranean accent. All the girls at the camp had been in love with him, and when he’d smiled at Becca she simply hadn’t stood a chance. She’d fallen for him almost the