‘No,’ Elias said. ‘I just took a couple of weeks off and travelled. I saw in the New Year in Scotland.’
It was rare that Elias volunteered information about what he got up to in his personal life. Possibly he offered that sliver of information to distract Mandy from what he was sure she had been about to ask.
It didn’t work, though.
The question still came. ‘Where exactly is home?’
It would be easier to lie.
With his dark good looks and rich accent, Elias could say he was from Italy or Greece. He spoke both languages and could easily carry either off, but he didn’t want to lie and neither did he want to deny his heritage.
He hadn’t wanted to reveal it before.
Yet he was starting to feel ready to now.
‘Medrindos,’ Elias answered.
‘Oh!’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘Mark and I went there on our honeymoon! We’d love to go back someday and see if it’s still as beautiful as we remember.’
‘It is,’ Elias assured her.
‘Where are you talking about?’ Valerie, another nurse on tonight, asked as she selected a cake.
‘Medrindos. Where Elias is from,’ Mandy told her. ‘It’s an island in the Mediterranean and it’s stunning.’
It was, in fact, a small but extremely wealthy principality, though Mandy was right in her description. Medrindos really was stunning. It was an absolute jewel in the Mediterranean and an expensive holiday location. Mandy chatted about the pristine beaches and azure water, as well as the churches and the palace, while Elias carried on writing his notes.
And, while he didn’t deny his country, he chose not to mention that he was a prince there, and second in line to the throne.
Soon, Elias knew from experience, he would be outed as a royal.
Maybe something would come on the news, or Mandy would go on the internet for a quick reminisce and would see pictures of the royal family, or she would read some headline about the errant young royals. His brother was currently kicking up his heels on board the royal yacht and partying hard in the South of France.
Elias knew he would soon be recognised, or the press would discover that he was working here, as had happened when he’d been a doctor in Oxford. The ensuing publicity had meant that the palace had summoned him home and for a couple of years Elias had lived the same depraved, albeit luxurious, lifestyle that his brother Andros adhered to.
Scandal had abounded but that didn’t seem to matter, just so long as he remained in the fold. ‘Princes will be princes,’ his mother would say when another salacious article appeared. There had been one that hadn’t been so readily dismissed. Elias had run into the inevitable trouble that awaited a man in his position—a heavily pregnant woman had gone to the press saying that she was carrying his child.
Despite Elias’s assurances that there was no need for them to do so, the palace had set their lawyers and PR people into action. They had even worked out the payments should the baby prove to be his.
They had ignored two pertinent details, though.
Yes, there were pictures of the woman with Elias at a prominent London wedding and, yes, they had both attended the same gathering back in a luxury hotel.
But they hadn’t slept together.
And had his mother known him at all, the other detail should have made her laugh at the absurdity of it all—the woman claimed Elias had told her he loved her.
Elias had never even thought, let alone uttered, those words to anyone.
No one had cared to hear that, though; instead, they had awaited the DNA result. Everyone, except Elias, had breathed a sigh of relief when the results had proved the baby was not his.
He had always known.
Elias had emerged from the scandal even more jaded—the life of a young single royal, though fun at first, had soon turned into what had felt a rather pointless existence. He didn’t want to spend his life attending lavish parties, long-winded functions and openings, or getting wasted on the royal yacht.
It had felt empty and meaningless and when he’d discussed it with his parents they’d suggested that he marry. Princess Sophie of Theodora was their choice for him. They’d refused to accept his love for medicine and he’d refused to marry at his parents’ command and so, six or so months ago, he had left it all behind and moved back to England, though to London this time.
He returned to Medrindos for formal occasions when his presence was required but here in London he relished the freedom of people not knowing his royal status. It came with its own unique difficulties—Elias held back from others and maintained his distance, yet it was a price that he had been willing to pay for this rare chance of normalcy and to do the job he loved.
Elias wanted more now, though.
He looked over as Roger, the consultant in charge tonight, returned from examining a patient.
‘How’s Mr Evans?’ Roger asked.
‘I’ve just referred him to Cardiology,’ Elias said, ‘but they’re busy with a patient on ICU so it might be a while before they can come down and see him.’
‘Why don’t you go and grab some sleep while it’s quiet?’ Roger suggested.
Roger would finish at nine in the morning, whereas Elias was on call for the whole weekend.
It felt a little too early to be taking a break but he knew to seize the chance to rest when it arose, for it could be a long while before the department was quiet again.
‘Sure.’ Elias drained his mug of coffee but as he went to go, he changed his mind.
‘Roger, I was wondering if I could speak to you on Monday.’
‘You can speak to me now,’ Roger said, but Mandy was hovering and Elias wanted to do this properly.
‘I’d rather speak on Monday.’
‘How about I come in at eight thirty?’ Roger suggested. ‘We can speak before you go home.
‘I’d like that.’ Elias said.
He walked through the department and around to the observation ward. Behind that was the staffroom and the on-call room.
An elderly gentleman who Elias had admitted to the observation ward a couple of hours earlier was singing ‘I Belong to Glasgow’, even though they were in the heart of London.
Elias shared a smile with the nurse sitting at the desk.
‘I need earplugs,’ she said. ‘I think he’ll be singing for a while.’
The singing followed him into the on-call room and Elias looked for the white-noise machine so that he could turn it on and block out the noise from outside.
He couldn’t find it but knew that it would be in here somewhere.
Sometimes, if a new cleaner started, they put it away so he checked the cupboards.
There it was.
Elias turned it on and flicked off the light.
He kept his runners on and just stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes.
The white-noise machine was good but it didn’t completely block out the sound and he could hear the deep baritone voice.
‘I belong...’
He was starting to feel that maybe he belonged here.
He liked London.
Oh, he would always belong to Medrindos, as his parents frequently pointed out. But he was starting to think that