Chapter Nine

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harper ran a hand through her hair as she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. “You’re making good progress, and neural implants are an invasive procedure; not to mention still experimental.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I’m sure this is what I want. And I’d like you to come with me.”

She blinked in surprise at the invitation. He was due to leave tomorrow for Geneva, and she had anticipated spending the time he was gone moping around without him, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to him. They had gotten close in the last three weeks, perhaps closer than was wise for her heart, and she’d hoped to use the time away from him to put some distance in her emotions as well.

She hovered on the brink of refusal until she saw the hurt appearing in his eyes. “Of course I’ll come with you, if that’s what you want. Just know that if I have any reservations, I intend to voice them.”

Bennet grinned at her. “I wouldn’t expect anything different from you, love.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she tried to push through the unexpected reaction to the endearment. It meant nothing. She’d heard him use it for other people as well, so she couldn’t allow herself to read anything into it. “What should I pack?”

“Geneva is temperate and warm, and their climate’s about like ours. I suggest packing summer clothing, and you can always pick up anything you might need while we’re in the country.”

She forced a cheerful smile. “I should go pack, since the flight leaves in the morning.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she hurried from his room and made the trek back to hers in the servants’ quarters. She went straight to her closet and opened one of the suitcases to start packing. At first, she was automatically putting items inside, but quickly realized she was paying no attention.

It didn’t really matter, since most of the clothing she had brought with her to Montrovia was suitable for summer wear, but most of it was also casual for work. She would likely have to invest in a few things, at minimum, in Geneva. The prospect of shopping there should’ve excited her, but it only brought a faint stir of anticipation when she thought about it.

Instead, she was mostly anxious, and there was no mystery why. She was worried about Bennet, both his health during the experimental treatment, and his emotional well-being afterward if it didn’t work, or did nothing to advance his recovery.

He had worked hard over the intervening weeks, and he had made real progress, but she knew he was pinning his hopes on Dr. Rhodes’ treatment. Harper was afraid he imagined he would be walking by the end of the four weeks in Geneva. From her research, it wasn’t going to work that way, but he didn’t want to hear the reality.

While she had needed the time apart from him to distance herself, she was certain he needed her more to come along with him. He was bound to be shocked and disappointed, and he’d need someone to rely on. And if he was right, and the stem cell therapy and neural implants worked, he’d need someone with whom to celebrate.

As she finished zipping her suitcase, Harper lugged it into the room and left it by the bed so she wouldn’t forget it. Then she sat down as she realized where part of her anxiety originated from—the fear that he wouldn’t need her any longer. If his therapy was as successful as he hoped it would be, he’d have no reason for her. She wouldn’t want him to remain paralyzed just so she could hang around, but she wasn’t certain where his recovery left her.

If he didn’t need her, there was no reason she couldn’t return to her position at the VA hospital, and she wasn’t confident enough in the strength of their relationship to think he would ask her to stay if he didn’t need her physical therapy services. She doubted he would immediately kick her from his bed, but their relationship would surely fade into obscurity. Maybe not on her part, because she cared too much about him, but if he was free to resume a semblance of his old lifestyle, what were the odds that he would want to stay with her?

She sighed as she tried to shove aside the worries and got to her feet. She paced aimlessly around the suite, finding no reprieve from her thoughts. They made her feel selfish even thinking about the situation, but she couldn’t dismiss her concerns about her own future, as well as anxiety about Bennet’s upcoming procedure.

***

Of course they had traveled via private jet, and it had been even more luxurious than the one that had brought her from the United States to Stratta when she’d first accepted the job. There’d been a cadre of servants at their disposal, though it had been just her and Bennet as the passengers. There had been no privacy, and certainly no time to talk about anything important, so she had spent most of the flight napping or reading.

When they landed at the airport, she found the weather was pleasantly warm, and the summer suit she’d worn for travel—just about the only formal thing she brought with her—was the perfect weight. Instead of stairs, there was a ramp waiting for them, and she helped him negotiate the slightly steep angle by holding onto the handles of his chair to stabilize him.

He did most of the work though, which was something she found increasingly common. He was making great improvement even without this experimental procedure, and if it were even half as successful as he hoped, it would surely speed up his recovery astronomically.

They were soon at a car that waited for them, and she spotted reporters in the distance, along with the flash of their cameras. They were likely yelling questions, but were far enough back that she couldn’t hear if they were. She was thankful for the sunglasses that shielded her face as she waited by the car, helping Bennet transition inside before handing his wheelchair to the driver to stow in the trunk. When she slid inside behind him and closed the door, not waiting for the driver to do so, it was a relief. “I guess you must be used all the media attention, but it feels intrusive.”

He actually laughed. “That was pretty discreet, Harper. They were barely there at all compared to how they can be. Paparazzi are the worst, and they’re always in your face, but it is just part of life, I suppose.”

It was part of life for a playboy prince from a small, yet rich country, but it was completely foreign to a woman like her. It underscored once again the differences between her and Bennet. Locked in the microcosm of the palace, she could fool herself to believe they were roughly equal. There, it didn’t seem to matter that he was royalty, and she most certainly wasn’t.

Out in the real world was different, and she could feel it already. Perhaps she would need the time apart from him to grow more aloof. Surely, he would realize just how unsuitable she was when he faced the reality of the differences in their positions and social standing.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t give it a thought at all, because maybe he still regarded her as nothing more than a fling. She couldn’t torture herself with what-ifs, so she was going to have to ask him soon to have a frank conversation about their relationship and its future, if any. Now wasn’t the time though. He had to focus on the treatments ahead of him.

The car whisked them across the city, and she was impressed by its mix of modern and old-world architecture that left her feeling welcome. As an unexpected bonus, she got to practice her French with the driver, who quickly reminded her Geneva was in Romandy, the French-speaking part of Switzerland. Of course, Bennet spoke it fluently and flawlessly, while she was hesitating and stumbling over her words. If she hadn’t been such a mass of insecurity, she probably wouldn’t have worried about her mistakes, since it had been a few years before that she last had the opportunity to really use French, while taking a class in college.

Their hotel was as elegant as everything else had been, and she saw the United Nations building across the way. It was a lot to take in for someone who’d never had much opportunity to travel before, other than family vacations. Her parents had taken the entire family on a tour of Greece once, but that had been the extent of their European vacations.

While she gawked, the driver had driven past the main entrance of the hotel and around the side to the back. At first, she questioned why, but didn’t verbalize the inquiry. A moment later, he drew up in front of what was clearly a private entrance for VIPs, which shouldn’t have surprised her. Bennet would value his privacy, and he wouldn’t want people staring at him in his current state. She knew he was self-conscious about it.

Within half an hour, they had checked in and were in the suite. It was luxurious, but couldn’t compare with the royal summer palace. It was roughly on par with the servants’ quarters, which amused her. The view was spectacular though, rising several stories in the air and giving a marvelous view of the confluence of the Rhône and Arve rivers.

After settling in, she felt restless and paced around the room she had chosen for herself. She hadn’t waited to see if Bennet offered her a space in his bed, because she couldn’t accept the invitation if it came, and she’d be crushed if it didn’t. She had to maintain the illusion of a working relationship only, which necessitated her having a separate room in the suite.

When she could find nothing else to keep her occupied in her room, she slipped out of it and went in search of Bennet. He was on the balcony, and she joined him, shivering slightly as the cool evening air caressed her face and ruffled her hair. It had dropped a few degrees since they had landed, but it was still perfectly pleasant.

She moved closer to him, frowning when she saw the alcohol in his hand, combined with the brooding expression on his face. She wanted to admonish him about drinking, but chose not to. He was an adult, and if he was nervous about tomorrow, one drink might help take the edge off. It wasn’t likely to cause a huge setback, and he wouldn’t appreciate the lecture—from either his lover or his physical therapist.

Instead, she pulled out one of the wrought iron seats and sat down beside him, not speaking as they stared out into the city below. She could practically feel him humming with tension, so she reached out and took his hand in hers. He curled his fingers around hers, holding her hand with a hint of desperation. She didn’t speak, because she wasn’t certain what to say.

The silence lingered for a while, until he finally and abruptly said, “What if it doesn’t work?”

She answered without hesitation. “You’ll just have to keep doing what you’ve been doing. You’re making good progress, and you will walk again.”

He snorted. “With braces and shuffling along. I’ll never be whole again. Not unless this works.”

She let out a small sigh, torn between the need to caution him against getting too hopeful, and the fear of feeding his despair. “All you can do is try. If it doesn’t work, you’re not any worse off, and you just keep putting in the hard work. If it does help, then you’ll be independent that much faster. You’ll probably never race cars again, but you will be whole. You’re whole now.”

The conversation was remarkably similar to the one they had shared at the beginning of their acquaintance, but he hadn’t brought up the topic since. She wasn’t certain if he had been deliberately avoiding his anxiety, or if he had just been more confident until the moment was at hand and was now experiencing uncertainty. Either way, all she could do was reassure him and be there for him.

“Do you want to go out?” he asked.

She looked at him for a moment, studying him from the corner of her eye. His lips were pursed, and there was an aching sadness in his eyes that made her stomach spasm in sympathy. “Not particularly.” Of course she’d love to explore the city, but she had four weeks ahead of her to do that, and it was obvious he needed quiet and no prying eyes to work through his anxiety at the moment.

He let out a long sigh that seemed full of relief. “In that case, why don’t we order room service and watch a movie or something?”

She nodded her acquiescence as she got to her feet. “I think I’ll put on something more comfortable.”

He looked down at the suit he wore with a curl of his lip. “Me too. I’ll meet you back in the sitting room in fifteen minutes?”

She nodded. “You’ll call me if you need help?” For the most part, he had now reached the level where he could dress and undress himself, at least with a few accommodations that had been simple enough to order and easy enough to pack, especially with a private jet at their disposal.

He nodded as he rolled away from her, his shoulders stiff. Maybe she shouldn’t have made the offer, since it seemed to remind him of whatever thoughts were plaguing him. She certainly couldn’t retract it, so she decided to just let it be as she walked away from him and returned once more to her smaller room.

She changed into something comfy within five minutes and was back in the sitting room when he wheeled in ten minutes later. Dressed in his drawstring shorts and white tank top, she could almost fool herself into believing this was like any other night back at the royal palace, where they holed up in his room.

It felt comfortable, familiar, and cozy as he lifted himself from the chair and onto the couch. She curled up against him before reaching across for the room service menu. They had ordered within a few minutes and found something to watch. As the next hour ticked by, they ate and cuddled, and she pretended to watch the movie, though her attention remained focused on Bennet.

He was so quiet and clearly lost in his own thoughts, but he seemed comforted by her touch and the way she curled against him after they had finished eating. At some point midway through the second movie, she realized he was breathing softly and rhythmically. She sat up slightly and looked at his face, smiling when she saw how relaxed he looked in sleep. When she started to move away, his brow furrowed, and he made a noise in his sleep as his fingers curled, as though he was reaching for her. She leaned back against him, and his face smoothed out again.

She knew she should probably wake him so he could go to sleep in the bed instead of on the couch, but it was a huge, overstuffed sofa, with plenty of room for both of them. Instead of waking him, or moving so she could lay him out on the couch, she just snuggled closer and took the blanket from the back to cover them.

It was a rare indulgence to be able to spend the night with him just like this. Usually, she crept from his suite late in the evening or early in the morning to maintain the illusion they weren’t romantically involved. Being in the city might underscore the differences between them, but it also offered the perfect opportunity for her to just rest beside the man who was far more important to her than she had ever expected.

***

Dr. Rhodes was younger than she had expected, and probably not more than mid-forties. With his pale skin, blue eyes, and silvery blonde hair with a matching neatly trimmed beard, he reminded her of an elf, for some reason. Perhaps it was his lithe build and the way he seemed to hop around everywhere. It was as though he had so much energy he couldn’t contain himself for long.

He also clearly had an enthusiasm for his work, along with a deep faith in it. As he explained the process and depth to both of them, she was reluctantly impressed by the plan he laid out. They were farther along in their experiment than research had suggested.

“I don’t understand why I’m not getting the neural implant this time?” Bennet seemed upset by that, as revealed by the harsh set of his lips. “That implant helped the monkey walk again.”

She knew he must be referencing the study conducted by a doctor in Switzerland that she had run across during her own research. The results had been promising, but also frightening in the level of intrusiveness required. She was actually relieved he wasn’t getting a neural implant.

“It’s certainly a possibility that you’ll receive one on your next visit, Prince Casparian. However, I’d prefer we start with some stem cell therapy to heal you as much as possible. You might not even need the neural implants, but if you do, you’ll need time to recover from the stem cell infusions. It’s too much on your body to do both at the same time.”

Bennet looked like he wanted to argue, but he finally let out a deep sigh and nodded. “Fine, then what’s the next step?”

“If you reviewed the literature you requested, you know we use two types of stem cells. One comes from donor umbilical cord blood, and that’s prepared and ready to go. The other type is from you, so you’ll need to undergo a procedure to collect a sample of your bone marrow, from which we’ll grow stem cells. That takes a few days, and it gives you time to heal from the needle insertion. If we put in the stem cells too early, they’ll naturally navigate to the site of where you have an injury, and we don’t want to distract them from their purpose by having them focus on your hip instead of your spine.

“After that, we’ll begin the spinal injections along with intravenous transfusions. As long as everything goes well, you’ll be done in four weeks. During that time, we ask that you have twelve sessions of physical therapy, which is where your physical therapist comes in.” The Dr. flashed her a quick smile before returning his attention to Bennet. “If you’re agreeable, we can get underway today. I have a lab tech waiting to take you to the procedure room to obtain your bone marrow.”

Bennet nodded, looking stoic. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s begin.” The doctor clapped his hands together once before rubbing his palms. “I feel good about this procedure for you, Your Highness. I think you’re an excellent candidate, and Ms. Gaines has done a wonderful job of getting you into tip top physical shape.”

“Ms. Gaines has been very good for my body,” said Bennet with only the slightest hint of dryness.

She resisted the urge to glare at him as her cheeks heated slightly. She avoided looking at the doctor as well, hoping he hadn’t read more into Bennet’s words than he should have—not that they weren’t true.

“I’ll send in the technician. The sooner we begin, the sooner you’ll be through, and hopefully, you’ll be walking again that much faster.” With the same almost manic energy he had displayed to that point, he hopped up from behind his desk and practically jumped out of the room.

Harper reached for his hand and squeezed lightly. “Are you really ready for this?”

He looked grim, but also determined, when he nodded. “I am.”

***

Harper was impressed that his determination didn’t falter over the next four weeks. After the bone marrow sample extraction, he’d required rest for a couple of days, and then had felt like playing tourist in a low-key way. That had been their only real break, because once the infusions and injections started, he was closely monitored and had to stay at the clinic.

She visited him throughout the day, especially when it was time for physical therapy, but missed having him in the hotel, and especially missed having closeness with him. Not necessarily sex, but just having him nearby. The suite felt huge and empty without him, and though she distracted herself with the usual touristy things, it was never a full diversion from her thoughts and concerns for him.

Admittedly, those concerns had faded slightly over the intervening weeks as she had seen the progress he’d made. He was walking a few steps on his own now, though still required the wheelchair for transport. He was working as hard as ever in physical therapy, but he wouldn’t have made such quick strides without the stem cell treatment too. She was still worried about the neural implants, should he opt to have them, or Dr. Rhodes decided he was a candidate, but she was assuaged by the evidence that his clinic was doing something beneficial.

It was a relief to be heading home though, and she was startled to realize she was starting to think of the castle as home. That wasn’t a smart idea, because she was no closer to knowing how permanent of a fixture she was in Bennet’s life. There’d been no opportunity to discuss much of anything, and the few times they’d had time alone, she had shied away from the conversation.

Harper told herself it was because she didn’t want to distract him from his treatment, but part of her knew it was because she was afraid of the answer she might receive when she finally found the nerve to pose the question. In some ways, it was better not to know if there was no future for them, so she could at least immerse herself in the present and pretend there was hope for more.