Heart Surgeon, Prince...Husband! Read online

  She frowned. ‘Surely you have to apply for a wedding licence weeks in advance?’

  ‘In New York, you can get married twenty-four hours after you get the permit,’ he said.

  She looked at him. ‘You’ve researched it, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘And it would work. We could fly to New York for a midweek break. We’d apply for our licence on our first day there, have dinner somewhere fancy and catch a show on Broadway maybe, then get married the second day.’

  ‘You mean we’d elope?’ But her family and friends would be so hurt if she got married again without any of them being there. Though if she told them the truth, that it was a marriage of convenience to help Luc, that would make the whole thing pointless regarding her own situation.

  ‘Eloping stops all the complications,’ he said.

  Not in her eyes. ‘Won’t your family and friends be hurt that you didn’t want to share your special day with them?’ she asked.

  ‘They’d understand that you, as a widow, would want this to be low-key.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘The alternative would be a full-blown State wedding in Bordimiglia.’

  That was definitely out of the question. ‘Sorry. I can’t stand in a church and make promises, not when I’ve...’ The words stuck in her throat. Not when she’d done it before. For love.

  He reached across the table and squeezed her hand briefly. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being selfish and asking too much. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and what pushed me into asking you is that my sister Elle rang me last weekend. She told me that our father wants to retire within the next year. Which means I’m running out of options. I need to act now.’

  ‘I still don’t see how getting married will make your parents think that you’re not fit to be king,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Not that I’m unfit to be king,’ he corrected, ‘but that I’m committed to a life in medicine. Getting married to a doctor in a related specialty could do that.’

  ‘Can’t you just talk to your parents?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve brought it up time and time again. But my father’s stubborn,’ he said wryly.

  ‘Getting married won’t change things,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we brainstorm other ways to help you stay as a surgeon?’

  He spread his hands. ‘I’m all ears.’

  She thought about it. And thought some more. ‘I’ve drawn a blank,’ she was forced to admit in the end. ‘I know if I told my parents what I wanted to do, they’d tell me to follow my dreams and they would support me. But I think it’s different for you. There are expectations.’

  ‘Exactly. But I understand why it’s not an option for you.’

  Just for a moment, his expression was so bleak and lonely. Her heart went out to him. She’d been there; she knew how it felt, with loneliness like a black hole sucking you in. This time, she was the one to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. ‘I can’t believe nobody’s fallen in love with you before—or that you haven’t fallen for someone.’

  ‘Things don’t always work out the way you plan,’ he said.

  ‘What happened?’ Then she grimaced. ‘Sorry, that was unspeakably nosy of me. Ignore that. You don’t have to answer.’

  ‘No. I’ve dragged you in this far. You deserve the truth. I did fall in love with someone, when I was in my last year as a medical student. I thought Rachel loved me.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I met her family and we got on well. So then I took her back to Bordimiglia to meet mine. They liked her. She seemed to like them, too.’

  So what had been the problem? Kelly wondered.

  ‘But she was really quiet on the way back to London. And she didn’t ask me to stay over at her place, that night, the way she usually did.’ He looked away. ‘She wasn’t in lectures, the next day, and she didn’t answer her phone. I was worried about her, so I called round. And that’s when she broke up with me. She said she loved me, but she couldn’t handle the public side of my life—seeing speculation in the news about her, having her dad’s speeding fine dragged up and her sister’s divorce spread across the gossip pages. She’d been doorstepped that morning by a couple of paps—it must’ve been a slow news week and they’d picked up on me taking her to meet my family, then dug up every single bit of dirt they could while we were away. I’d gone straight into lectures so I hadn’t seen the papers.’ He sighed. ‘If I’d been just a normal medical student, it would have been fine. Rachel and I would have been married by now, maybe with a couple of children if we were lucky.’

  ‘But you’re a prince,’ she said softly.

  He nodded. ‘The same thing happened with the next two women I dated who weren’t from the same kind of background as me. They were fine with me working the stupid hours of a junior doctor, because they did it themselves. But they hated the protocol and politics of the other side of my life—not to mention the press intrusion.’

  ‘What about dating someone from your background?’

  He shrugged. ‘I tried that, too. They were fine with the protocols and the formality and the dressing up.’

  ‘But they weren’t so keen on dating a doctor?’ Kelly guessed.

  ‘Not when they missed a film premiere because I was stuck in the operating theatre, or I got called away from a dinner party because a patient had developed complications and I needed to be there. I mean—did they seriously expect me to walk away from my patient in the middle of an op and tell the head of department to find someone else to finish the operation because I had to go to a party?’ For a moment, he looked disgusted. ‘I guess the answer is for me to give up my job and do what my father wants.’

  ‘But you’d be miserable and all the experience you have would be wasted. You’re bringing new procedures to our department, things that will make a real difference,’ she said. ‘You’re helping to train the surgeons of the future.’

  ‘Which would be the whole point of my clinic in Bordimiglia. Cutting-edge stuff.’

  ‘That’s not the same as being a whiny, over-indulged brat who’s rebelling against what his parents want just for the sake of it,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you for understanding.’ He looked sad. ‘I can’t see a way out. If I stay as I am, it’s going to upset my parents—they’ll feel I’m rejecting them. If I give up my career as a surgeon, I feel as if I’m throwing away all the help I’ve been given from my tutors and my colleagues over the years, not to mention letting my patients down. And yes, sure, as the king I could still set up a new hospital—but I wouldn’t be the one working there and making a difference and passing on my skills to younger surgeons. And what’s the point if I’m not going to be involved with patients? I want my skills to make a difference, not my finance.’ He shrugged. ‘Whatever I do, I lose.’

  ‘Whereas if it’s your father’s idea to change the rules of succession...’

  ‘Then that would make me fourth in line for the throne, behind Elle and my nephew Alessio and niece Anna. Which is perfect.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I’d like to help you. But getting married—that’s a huge step.’

  ‘I know I’m asking a lot, And we don’t know each other very well. And, really, what do you get out of marrying me? A massive disruption to your life.’

  ‘According to my family and friends, I don’t have a life—just work,’ she said.

  ‘I’d be the same, in your shoes,’ he said. ‘I’d want to double-check everything so no patient ever went undiagnosed again. Which isn’t possible, because if someone doesn’t show any symptoms they wouldn’t have any reason to get themselves checked out, and you wouldn’t get the chance to diagnose them.’

  ‘I know. My head agrees with you,’ she said.

  ‘But your heart doesn’t?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘And I think that’s partly why I can’t move on. Because I still think I should’ve noticed
something.’

  ‘Nobody could’ve noticed it,’ he said. ‘But you got his brother and his niece checked out.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like enough,’ she said. She blew out a breath. ‘I can’t fix my situation, but I guess I could help you fix yours.’

  ‘Which isn’t a fair exchange. It feels as if I’m using you,’ he said, ‘and that’s not who I am.’

  ‘You’re not using me, because you’re not making any false promises. You’re offering me an opportunity with the job, a chance to make a real difference and have a fresh start. Something to look forward to instead of backwards. And you have a point that everyone will stop nagging me to date if I’m married.’ She looked at him. ‘I love my family and friends, and they’d expect to be invited to my wedding.’

  ‘Which means mine would need to be there, and then it’d be a complete circus.’

  Kelly noticed that Luc hadn’t said anything about loving his family. Or maybe it was different, in royal circles, and duty took precedence over love.

  ‘It’s possible to arrange a quick State wedding,’ he said, ‘but then the media would be all over it, speculating that you were pregnant, and...’ He grimaced. ‘It’d be easier if we eloped.’

  ‘I can’t do that. It’d hurt everyone and make them feel pushed away, and they’ve all been so supportive. I can’t get married in a rush to someone they’ve never even met.’

  ‘What if it was a whirlwind romance and I swept you off your feet?’

  ‘Prince Charming?’ she asked wryly.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Not funny.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘Actually, I should be the one apologising for the sense of humour failure. If it wasn’t so close to home, it would actually be funny.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she said.

  ‘I know I’m asking a lot,’ he said. ‘But I could make it worth—’

  ‘Don’t you dare insult me by offering me any kind of payment,’ she warned, before he could offer.

  ‘How about I make a donation to a charity of your choice?’ he suggested, and named a substantial amount of money.

  She felt her eyes widen. ‘Luc, that’s a small fortune.’

  ‘It’s worth it to me,’ he said softly. ‘It means I can follow my dreams and I’m free to be who I really am.’

  ‘I want to help you, Luc. But marriage is huge.’

  ‘I know.’ He paused. ‘Don’t say no just yet. Let’s spend a few days getting to know each other better. And then, if you feel we can go ahead, I can maybe meet your family and convince them I’m sweeping you off your feet.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Though this feels a bit like that film my sisters loved, the one with the woman who’s about to be deported so she proposes to her secretary.’

  ‘Oh, the one with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds? I loved that.’ She smiled. ‘Or the Gerard Depardieu one, where he and Andie MacDowell made that whole fake photo album so he could get his green card, and he got deported.’

  ‘Except we’re going to carry this off and not get found out.’

  ‘Problem is, I’ve already talked to my best friend about it. Not that Ange would say anything if I ask her not to. She’s just worried that I’m going to get hurt.’

  ‘I promise you’re not going to get hurt, and I can make exactly the same promise to her,’ Luc said. ‘I keep my promises.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘And your dad doesn’t have a speeding conviction and your sister’s happily married, so there will be no nasty headlines about anyone in your family.’

  She winced. ‘So you know about my whole family from your dossier on me?’

  ‘It’s not that big a dossier. Just enough to establish the basics, and confirm that the press won’t be able to drag up anything to pillory you with,’ he said. ‘But you’re right. We need to get to know each other. So. You always wanted to be a doctor?’

  ‘When I was really little, I wanted to be a ballerina, like in the Angelina stories. Except I was truly hopeless at classes and always fell over my feet. And then I thought I might like to be a gardener, like my grandad, and grow beautiful flowers. And then one of my teachers suggested being a doctor, and I liked the thought of being able to make a difference. So I did the three sciences for my A-Levels, got into uni and ended up training here.’ She smiled at him. ‘I know you said you wanted to become a doctor after your best friend died.’

  ‘Specifically a cardiologist. Except when I worked in the cardiac department I discovered that I liked surgery. Though I did flirt a bit with being in a rock band,’ he confessed. ‘I was the rhythm guitarist and did the backing vocals in a band called Prince of Hearts when I was a student.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s such a perfect name. Did you write your own stuff?’

  He smiled back. ‘No. And if I’m honest we weren’t much good. It was fun, though.’

  ‘There’s a band in the hospital—Maybe Baby,’ she said. ‘Half of them are in the maternity ward and half in paediatrics. They play all the hospital functions. You never know—you could join them.’

  ‘I’m really not that good,’ he said. ‘And I can prove that to you if you’d like to have dinner at my place on Wednesday.’

  ‘You’re on.’ She looked at him. ‘So do you do the cooking, or do you have staff?’

  He winced. ‘A mix of the two. It’s not because I’m too spoiled to cook.’

  ‘You’re a cardiac surgeon. You work long hours. If you lived on your own, it’d be takeaways or microwave meals.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’ he asked.

  ‘No. But I like cooking.’ She paused. ‘I’m assuming your security staff live in, so your place is a lot bigger than this.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I will cook for you myself on Wednesday. Is there anything you hate, or are allergic to?’

  ‘I don’t eat red meat, but other than that I’m easy to cook for,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘I’d also like to take you out tomorrow night, if you’re free?’ he asked. ‘To a restaurant,’ he clarified, ‘then I can have all my focus on you and not on burning your dinner.’

  She laughed and nodded. ‘That would be lovely.’

  He lifted his glass. ‘Here’s to getting to know each other better.’

  Kelly echoed the toast. But part of her was wondering just what she’d let herself in for.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ON TUESDAY, KELLY and Luc were both busy with patients and Kelly’s morning overran when she was called down to the emergency department to see a six-year-old girl who’d had a cardiac arrest. Jordan’s mum had died from Long QT Syndrome, a condition that caused an electrical disturbance to the heart which could lead to a dangerous heart rhythm. The condition could be inherited—like Simon’s hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—and, according to the notes, Jordan had had a previous cardiac arrest on the way home from school, two years before. Thankfully Jordan’s grandmother had learned emergency life skills at work and had been able to resuscitate her.

  ‘So the doctors didn’t suggest fitting an ICD, last time?’ Kelly asked Mrs Martin, Jordan’s grandmother, out of earshot of the little girl while Jordan’s grandfather stayed by her bedside.

  Mrs Martin shook her head. ‘They said the medication would be enough.’

  Medication was the first-line treatment for the condition, but Kelly would’ve scheduled in frequent cardio tests if the girl had been her patient. ‘OK. Did they explain Long QT Syndrome to you?’

  ‘Not really.’ Mrs Martin grimaced. ‘I read up about it and, when we moved to London, I asked our family doctor if he thought Jordan might need an operation. He said the medication was working so leave it for now.’

  ‘As you’ve read up about the condition, you know that Jordan’s at risk of having more cardiac arrests.’

  ‘
And she could die suddenly, like Savannah did.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kelly admitted. ‘It’s brave of you to say it out loud.’

  ‘I don’t feel very brave,’ Mrs Martin admitted. ‘I’m terrified we’re going to lose her.’

  ‘There is an option that will help,’ Kelly said. ‘You might have read about it. It’s an ICD—that stands for “implantable cardiac defibrillator”—and it’s a little device about the size of a matchbox. If Jordan’s heart rhythm suddenly becomes abnormal, the ICD will give her heart a tiny electric shock and that will make her heart go back into the right rhythm.’

  ‘So it means an operation?’

  ‘Yes. I can do it here in the cath lab. For adults, I’d do it under a local anaesthetic with sedation, so they’d be too sleepy to remember anything. But, because Jordan’s so young, I’d rather do this under a general anaesthetic. You can be with her all the time until she’s asleep,’ Kelly reassured her, ‘and then we’ll ask you to wait outside while we do the op, to help us prevent any infection.’

  ‘How long does it take?’ Mrs Martin asked.

  ‘A couple of hours,’ Kelly said. ‘What I’ll do is make a small cut here—’ she indicated a place below her own collarbone ‘—to make a little pocket for the ICD. Then I’ll connect the electrode to her heart, through a vein, connect the other end of the ICD, test it to make sure it’s working, then sew up the cut I made. The stitches will dissolve, so you don’t have to worry about them being removed.’ She smiled. ‘Then we’ll wake her up, and you can join her in the recovery area. When she’s properly awake, we’ll take her back to the children’s ward, and she can go home in a couple of days.’

  ‘I...’ Mrs Martin swallowed. ‘It was hard enough, losing her mum. I can’t lose her as well.’

  Kelly took her hand. ‘The ICD is going to make things a lot less stressful for both of you. If her heart goes into an abnormal rhythm, the ICD will act like a pacemaker and give her a small electrical signal to make her heart go back to beating normally. If that isn’t quite enough, then it will give her a small electric shock and that’ll do the trick.’