200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince

‘No. But you can do sit-ups on the stability ball.’

Marco couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

‘It’s better than nothing at all,’ Ethan said, and there was a brief flare of sympathy in his eyes.

‘I guess.’ But Marco was pretty sure that this next month was going to be the longest of his life.

Becca pulled herself out of the pool and squeezed the water from her shoulder-length hair before padding through to the showers. One of the things she loved about working at the Hunter Clinic was the pool in the basement; a swim after work always got the knots out of her muscles and her head in the right place before she headed for her stint at the rehab clinic.

On her way out of the building, she glanced through the glass doors of the gym. There was a man doing lunge walks down the length of the gym; his back was to her, but given the evidence she could see of a strapped-up arm he was clearly one of the patients.

Dark hair, tall, just like Seb …

Her heart skipped a beat.

Stupid.

It had been years since she’d last seen Seb. Years. It was about time she put him out of her head and stopped thinking about him every time she saw a tall, dark-haired man. Particularly as he’d made it very clear that he hadn’t returned her feelings. He’d left the children’s aid camp in South Africa without so much as a word to her. Dump and run.

‘Get over it, Becca,’ she told herself sharply. ‘You’ve got a new life now. And you don’t need a man to make it complete.’ Besides, she had work to do. Somewhere she was needed.

Shaking herself, she walked up the stairs to the reception area and out into Harley Street.

Over the next couple of days, Marco was thoroughly bored. He tried to be charming to the nurses who came to check on him, but he hated all of this. Being fussed over. Smothered. Suffocated.

Even the gym wasn’t a respite. Yes, it meant he could still work out. Of sorts. But he would have been much happier using the top-of-the-range free weights available, lifting until he’d reached his maximum one rep and then pushing himself just that little bit more. Doing a novice type programme just wasn’t satisfying. The only reason he’d been able to keep himself in check was the fear of rupturing the repair work on his tendons and being permanently without the use of his left hand. Three months would be tough enough. For the rest of his life would be unbearable.

‘You hate this, don’t you, Zorro?’ Ethan asked when he dropped in to see Marco at the end of the day.

‘Sitting here, being useless, when I know I’m needed elsewhere?’ Marco scowled. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘It’s not the easiest thing to deal with,’ Ethan agreed. ‘You just have to learn to be patient.’

‘Is that what you did, Clavo?’ Marco asked.

‘Just do as I say,’ was the level response.

‘So you didn’t.’

Ethan shrugged. ‘This isn’t about me; it’s about you.’

‘I hate this,’ Marco admitted. ‘I’m used to doing things. Not just sitting here. And your gym is pure torture. All the things I want to use and can’t.’

‘Patience,’ Ethan counselled.

Marco just scowled at him.

‘Let’s have a look at your hand.’ Ethan inspected it, then smiled. ‘Good news, Zorro. You get to meet your physio tomorrow morning.’

‘So I can start exercising my hand?’

‘You do,’ Ethan said, ‘everything she tells you. And no more than that.’

‘Or I’m risking permanent damage. Yeah, yeah. You’ve already told me.’ Marco took a deep breath. Damn. He was being rude again, and the doctor meant well. ‘Sorry.’

‘Frustration. It gets all of us at some point. Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow, Zorro.’

‘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.

CHAPTER TWO (#u4c19fae4-4cf9-52de-9913-0066b366f05f)

‘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.