His mouth compressed but he didn’t reply. Maddie pushed past the bite of guilt. Although her father suspected it, she hadn’t confirmed that desperation had driven her to pay their next-door neighbour a small sum to look in on him a few times a day.
After he had been bumped from the transplant list twice after relapsing, she’d resorted to desperate ways of keeping an eye on him. The last barrage of tests had revealed he was weeks away from full renal failure.
The doctors had advised that they wouldn’t sanction her father’s operation unless he remained clean for at least six months. He’d waved away her worries when she’d talked to him about it but so far he’d stayed clean.
All she needed to do was come through with the funds required for his operation. Funds entirely dependent on whether she finished h
er stint with Jules Montagne. Correction: Jules Montegova. Half-brother to Crown Prince Remirez Alexander Montegova.
The latter’s image rose up, large and imposing, dragging a small shiver down her spine as she finished her breakfast.
By the time she was done with the morning rush hour customers at the café where she worked near Oxford Street, the seed of worry that had taken root in the small hours had grown into a bramble bush.
Jules normally sent her a text in the early hours before he went to bed, telling her where and when to meet for their next ‘date’. When midday came and went without a word from him, her worry escalated to full-blown anxiety.
She didn’t want to waste her precious phone minutes calling him, but the inkling that something was wrong wouldn’t ease. Too much hinged on finishing what she’d started with Jules for her to prevaricate about this. She decided she would call him during her break.
The café was quieter, but still half full. Besides her, two other waitresses were busy delivering dishes to customers, with a third, Di, cleaning the table next to where Maddie was sorting cutlery.
‘Holy cow, it’s Prince Remirez!’ Di screeched.
Maddie almost jumped out of her skin, nearly dropping the two dozen forks in her hands. ‘What?’
Di pointed, wide-eyed, at the window.
Heart slamming against her ribs, Maddie turned and watched the man she’d spent far too many precious hours thinking about examining the café sign and the pavement with the same dripping disdain he’d shown for her neighbourhood last night.
The late March sun burst through the clouds in that moment, outlining his upturned haughty face in jaw-dropping relief.
Last night, in the dark nightclub and darker limo, she’d thought his breathtaking male beauty too good to be true. Now, with the sun caressing every spectacular feature, Maddie was left in no doubt that from head to toe the man next in line to the throne of Montegova was a magnificent male specimen.
She managed to drag her gaze from that rugged jaw and captivating face long enough to glance at her colleague. ‘You know who he is?’
Di rolled her eyes. ‘Duh! Every female with a pulse over the age of fourteen knows who he is. His brother Zak is equally hot. I wonder what the Crown Prince is doing here, though. I would’ve thought Bond Street was more his speed if he’s shopping. Hey, don’t royals have minions to do that sort of—? Oh, my God, he’s coming in here!’
Maddie turned away, praying Di was wrong. He wasn’t here for her. He couldn’t be. In the dark of a nightclub, in the midst of minor celebrities and royalty, it was easy to explain away a crown prince’s fleeting interest in her—even to herself.
Here, among the cheap plastic furniture and even cheaper food of a street corner café, it was difficult to rationalise why the hottest man alive would seek her out.
But what were the chances that he was here on some other mission?
Di continued to chatter away. Maddie kept her back to the door, despite the mocking voice that said she was burying her head in the sand.
Moments later she heard the hush in the café, heard the firm, confident footfalls of a man who believed he owned the very ground he walked on—right before she felt the mildly earth-shaking vibrations of his presence behind her.
‘Miss Myers.’
Dear God, she hadn’t imagined the impact of that voice. Nor had she imagined its pulse-destroying effect on her.
She tried fruitlessly to fight the shivers coursing through her as she turned around. And promptly lost her grip on the forks in her hand.
The clatter was astounding.
Face flaming, Maddie dropped to her knees, furiously scrambling for the forks. Before her, a pair of polished hand-stitched shoes remained planted. Unmoving. She refused to look up, refused to acknowledge the existence of the man clad in an expensive, dark navy pinstriped suit that probably cost more than her year’s salary. She crawled around him, snatching up the utensils as her face grew hotter. When she had them all she sat back on her heels, prepared to rise.
‘Miss Myers?’
Maddie bit her lip, knowing she couldn’t avoid looking at him. She tilted her head, her breath strangling all over again when her eyes clashed with his silver-grey ones. They were ferociously intense, even as one eyebrow slowly lifted mockingly and he examined her flushed face.