‘I can’t pretend I’m not interested, Rafe,’ she said suddenly. ‘But I need to talk to—to someone.’
So...perhaps there was a boyfriend, after all. Rafe tried not to frown.
‘When do you need a decision?’ she asked.
‘As soon as possible. I hoped to fly out tonight.’
‘Tonight? Can you book a flight that quickly?’
‘I don’t need to book. I have a private jet.’
‘Of course you do,’ Charlie said softly and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re a prince.’ She gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head, but then her gaze was direct as she met his. ‘What time do you want to leave, then?’ she asked.
Now. ‘Ten o’clock? Eleven at the latest.’ He pulled a chequebook from his pocket and filled in the necessary details, including his scrawled signature. ‘Take this with you,’ he said as he tore off the cheque.
Charlie took it gingerly, almost as if it were a time bomb. She swallowed as she stared at it. ‘You’d hand over that amount of money? Just like that? You trust me?’
Rafe didn’t like to point out that his men would be tailing her, so he simply nodded.
She folded the cheque and slipped it into her handbag and she looked pale as she rose from her seat. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said. ‘Give me your phone number and I’ll text you.’
MICHAEL MORISSET, WHO had the same curls and clear blue eyes that Charlie had inherited, looked as if he’d aged ten years when she met him at the hospital.
It was frightening to see her normally upbeat and carefree father looking so haggard and worn.
Skye looked even worse. Only a few short days ago, the happy mother had been glowing as she proudly showed off her sweet newborn daughter. Now Skye looked pale and gaunt, with huge dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders were stooped and even her normally glossy auburn hair hung in limp strands to her shoulders.
Charlie’s eyes stung as she hugged her stepmother. She couldn’t imagine how terrified Skye must be to know that her sweet little daughter had only the most tenuous hold on life.
‘Would you like to see Isla?’ Skye asked.
Charlie nodded, but her throat closed over as her father and Skye took her down the hospital corridor, and she had to breathe in deeply through her nose in an attempt to stay calm.
The baby was in a Humidicrib in a special isolation ward and they could only look at her through a glass window.
Isla was naked except for a disposable nappy, and she was lying on her side with her wrinkled hands folded together and tucked under her little chin. A tube had been inserted into her nose and was taped across her cheek to hold it in place. Monitor wires were taped to her tummy and her feet. Such a sad and scary sight.
‘Oh, poor darling.’ The cry burst from Charlie. She couldn’t help it. Her heart was breaking.
She tried to imagine a doctor operating on such a tiny wee thing. Thank heavens she had found the money for the very best surgeon possible. She suppressed a nervous shiver. This was hardly the time to dwell on the details of what earning that money entailed. Her baby sister was her focus.
As she watched, Isla gave a little stretch. One hand opened, tiny fingers fluttering, bumping herself on the chin so that she frowned, making deep furrows across her forehead. Now she looked like a little old lady.
‘Oh,’ Charlie cried again. ‘She’s so sweet. She’s gorgeous.’
She turned to her father and Skye, who were holding hands and gazing almost fearfully at their daughter.
‘I’ve found a way to raise the money,’ Charlie told them quickly.
Skye gasped. ‘Not enough to take her to Boston, surely?’
‘Yes.’
Skye gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘With a special nurse to accompany her?’
‘Yes, there’s money to cover all those costs.’
‘Oh, my God.’
Skye went white and clutched at her husband’s arm, looking as if she might faint.
‘Are you sure about this, Charlie?’ her father demanded tensely. ‘I don’t want Skye to get her hopes up and then be disappointed.’
Charlie nodded. ‘I have the cheque in my handbag.’ Nervously, she drew out the slim, astonishing slip of paper. ‘It might take a few days before the money’s deposited into your bank account, but it’s a proper bank cheque. It’s all above board.’
‘Good heavens.’ Her father stared at the cheque and then stared at his daughter in disbelief. ‘How on earth did you manage this? What’s this House of St Romain? Some kind of church group? Who could be so generous?’
This was the awkward bit. Charlie had no intention of telling her dad and Skye about Rafe and the fact that she’d agreed to be a stand-in as a European prince’s pretend fiancée. For starters, they wouldn’t believe her—they would think she’d taken drugs, or had been hit on the head and was hallucinating.
But also, telling them about Rafe would involve telling them about Olivia, and this wasn’t the right moment to bring up that particular can of worms. Charlie was angry about her father’s silence over such an important matter as her sister. On the way to the hospital she’d allowed herself a little weep about her absent mother and unknown twin sister, but she’d consoled herself that by accepting the role of fake fiancée she was actually taking a step closer to finding the truth.
For now, though, they had to stay focused on Isla.
‘Dad, you have my word this money is from a legitimate source and there’s nothing to worry about. But it’s complicated, I’ll admit that. You’ll have to trust me for now. You’ve got enough to worry about with Isla. Let me take care of the money side of things.’
‘I hope you haven’t gone into debt, Charlie. You know I won’t be able to pay this back.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that either. The only issue will be finding someone to run the gallery while I’m—’ Charlie quickly changed tack. ‘I’ll be—busy organising everything. Do you think Amy Thornton might be available?’
‘I’m pretty sure Amy’s free. But for heaven’s sake, Charlie—’ For a long moment her father stared at her. ‘If you don’t want to tell me, I’m not going to press you,’ he said finally. ‘I do trust you, darling. I know you won’t be breaking any laws.’
‘Of course not. I’ve managed to find a generous—’ Charlie swallowed. ‘A generous benefactor, who wishes to remain anonymous.’
‘How amazing. That’s—that’s wonderful.’
Charlie forced a bright smile. ‘So now your job is to get busy with talking to doctors and airlines and everything that’s involved with getting Isla well.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Tears glistened in her father’s eyes. ‘Thank you, Charlie.’ His voice was ragged and rough with emotion. ‘Not every girl would be so caring about a half-sister.’
The three of them hugged, and Skye was weeping, but to Charlie’s relief her father quickly broke away to find a nursing sister. In no time he and the nurse were making the necessary arrangements. Her dad was stepping up to the mark and adopting full responsibility.
She was free to go.
She’d never realised how scary that could be.
*