Fuck. Me.

There’s no way in hell I’m saying that out loud, even though it’s exactly what I want him to do. No. Way. I’m not saying that ever—not for him, not even if he is a prince. Not for anyone. And not for…him.

“My body…” My voice cracks under the strain. “Is not…”

I expect him to give me another one of those telling grins, but he doesn’t. The look on his face is all too serious and his eyes—damn if they don’t pierce right the hell through me. “Go on, Doctor.”

“Not…not your concern.” I clear my throat, regaining some semblance of dignity and composure. “My needs or lack thereof are of no concern. Not to you and not to anyone.”

Yeah, Elle, way to tell him. I don’t believe my weak-willed attempt at standing up for myself any more than he will.

I hate myself for being like this. Weak. Feeble and uncertain. I only remember one other time I’ve acted like this—and I’ll be damned if it’s going to happen again.

The time I spent in medical school was no picnic, but I learned how to mostly stand up for myself there—I had to, or I would have been eaten alive. Senior doctors—and hell, nurses for that matter—lived to tear apart medical students and residents who couldn’t be assertive. That was a lesson I had learned quickly, especially as a woman. I only wish it had followed me to this hellhole.

And to the job I had before this.

I straighten, reaching to tap again on the stack of papers I’ve so neatly arranged on my desk. “Do what you need to do. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

I stand and turn on my heel, walking out of the office before I take an immediate turn to go into the treatment area.

I let out a long breath and lean myself against the wall for a moment—more to recover from whatever the hell that was than anything else.

Raul is standing at the sink across the room, washing the instruments I used on Owen a little while ago, and he turns to me, lifting a brow.

I straighten, smoothing down my shirt as I walk over to him. “How are you feeling?”

He smiles, turning back to the dirty instruments. “Much better, Doctor Elle.”

“You’re taking your medicine?”

He nods, not making eye contact with me.

He’s lying, but there isn’t anything I can do. Not here. He can’t afford the medicine I prescribed for him, even if he could find a pharmacy to get it. Once I get back home, I’m hoping I can get my hands on some samples of the heart medication he needs—and I’ll have to try to get it back here to him somehow.

The guy who thinks he’s prince of the jungle doesn’t know it yet, but I’m planning to come back here. I have no idea how I’m going to do it or how I’m going to get the money, but I’m going to do what I need to do. I’ve been emailing pharmaceutical companies for the past year, but they won’t do anything for this place. It isn’t American, and even if it were, it’s a children’s clinic. Prince High and Mighty is right—there are no provisions for adults to be treated here. But there isn’t any place else for them to go, either. It isn’t like they can hop in the car and go down the street to the hospital—the nearest one is forty miles away. Forty miles seems like nothing when you have a car, but when you have no transportation—it’s a long walk for someone who’s sick.

Somehow, I’m going to get the money to build my own clinic. I’m not sure where the funds are going to come from, but I think if I talk to a few of my former co-workers, they might be able to help. The hospital I worked at before owes me. That asshole former boss of mine really owes me, especially since I left without too much of a fuss.

His career was all it was about. What about mine? What the hell did I spend all those years training for? To be thrown out on my ear because some bastard couldn’t keep his hands to himself?

I was so immature back then. If I’d been able to stand up for myself, I wouldn’t have even come here. I would have… I don’t know what I would have done. Owen seemed to be pretty worried I might throw myself off a building or something, but that isn’t me. I was young and stupid then, and I’m not either of those things anymore. This clinic isn’t able to do the things it should do or provide the kind of care it should provide, but if it’s done nothing else for anyone, it’s helped me grow up a little. Mature into the doctor I always wanted to be.

Maybe if the people of Montovia knew what was really going on here, they’d throw the residents of Rio de Campo a bone or something. Not just send over vaccines and supplies for well-child checks. Not that I wouldn’t love to see some children who were actually healthy once in awhile. But that is a cultural thing Montovia doesn’t seem to understand—the residents of this village don’t bring healthy children to see the doctor, even if those services would be free for them. I don’t think the royal family thought about it when they set up this clinic—providing free checkups and vaccines does nothing when so many kids are sick. It isn’t the kind of service needed here, even if they meant well by setting it up in the first place.

And maybe if I can get my own clinic up and running, I can do something about the lung infection the babies here seem to get after it rains. I would bet good money it’s a fungal infection, but without a lab to do some tests, there’s no way for me to know. I hope the hospital I’ve been sending the kids to is doing those tests, but they don’t give me any information. To the hospital, I’m the lady who pays the bills, not anyone of significance.

I walk over to the gurney to clean up my mess from treating Owen, and it seems suspiciously quiet back here. The instruments clink in the steel sink where Raul is washing them, preparing them to be sterilized, and I disinfect the gurney and prepare it for the next patient.

Prince Leo is right—I am too busy to think about him. There’s more than enough for me to do here—today and every day—and I certainly don’t need the complication of some man fucking things up for me. Besides, I’m only under the control of this place for the next three days. And today is almost over—there are only two more working days left for me to worry about it.

So what if he finds something amiss in the financial records? I’m not a bookkeeper and I have done the best I could with what I’ve had. It’s more than anyone could say for the last person who ran this place—he walked out on his contract six months early. And the place was pretty much gutted when I arrived.

The door swings open and Prince Leo stands just inside the doorway, staring at me. There’s no trace of a smile on his face and I see there’s not going to be any more of the playful arguing we’ve been enjoying. By his expression I see he’s found whatever it is he was looking for—and he’s going to blame me for it.

Well, you had your chance, Elle. All you had to do was tell him you wanted him to fuck you. Yes, and no doubt he would have obliged, but the outcome would still be the same—he was going to go through the finances eventually. He still would have figured out how the majority of his family’s money is being sent to the hospital down the road—and then he would still fire my ass anyway. Having sex with him would have only delayed things by another day or two.

I’m not sure why I even care at this point. It isn’t like I’m out job hunting or anything—after the past year, I doubt I can work under close supervision again. The freedom I have here is thrilling—even though I’m not able to care for children in exactly the way I dreamed of, I wouldn’t want to go back to having someone constantly watching over me. It’s something few doctors in the States know about unless they’ve worked on their own out in the field. This is what we want—this is the doe-eyed dream of almost everyone that goes into any field of medicine. It’s what we all want—to help. To make a difference. Not to be at the beck and call of shareholders or CEOs or to be prescribing drugs to people because they saw some commercial about them on television. Working here matters. And it’s changed me for the better. I need to remind myself of that.

Leo clears his throat. “I have some questions, Doctor.”

I sanitize my hands, rubbing my palms together. “Of course you do,” I mutter under my breath.

His gaze narrows a bit, but he says nothing. He merely turns and walks back through the swinging door.

I have nothing to be afraid of. Even if he accuses me of embezzling funds, there’s nothing he can do about it. Not that I am or ever would—but I’m sure it looks that way. I’ll be off the hook after the close of business the day after tomorrow. And as soon as I am, I’m going to take matters into my own hands and make sure the people here get the care they deserve—not the half-assed children’s wellness clinic his country built.

I follow him back into my office and he drops onto the chair in front of my desk with a sigh. “Elle—”

“Just…don’t.” I can’t even bring myself to look at him. “I’ll pay Montovia back for whatever it is you decide I owe you. It might take me some time, but I’ll pay back every cent.”

He drums his fingers on the table for a moment. “Elle…Doctor. You don’t know what I was going to ask. Why do you assume I’m going to tell you that you owe anything?”

I have to close my eyes for a moment. I somehow knew this day would come, but I thought I would be better prepared. I should have had some sort of statement ready or something. Not that my brain works very well with him near me, but I can’t remember what I told myself I would say when the Montovian people came knocking. I suppose I thought there was no way they would actually send a prince, for fuck’s sake. If they had sent another doctor, at least I would have been able to appeal to his or her desire to serve people—to heal them. At least I would have had a prayer of making someone with experience in the medical field understand. Instead, they sent Prince Leo, and I have no hope in hell of making him understand anything unless I’m willing to drop my panties for him.

But I’ll be damned if I’ll go down that road again. I’d rather have my reputation ruined for all time before I sell myself—or my body—out to save my career ever again.

I open my eyes and see that he’s staring at me with…hell, I don’t know what it is in his eyes. Concern, maybe? I guess I expected there would be more anger. Rage, more likely, but it isn’t like that at all. His gaze is soft, almost like he…

It’s almost like he cares. Is it so impossible he might not be the douche you assumed him to be?

Um, yes, it is impossible. He’s made it clear that he is an asshole. An asshole who wants to sleep with me, and only because of his severe boredom. There’s no way he would ever have any interest in me if we weren’t stuck in a tiny little hellhole in South America. If there were a starlet within a thousand miles of here, he wouldn’t even be in the same room with me.

I saw how he looked at those papers, as though his eyes were going to bleed—he wants nothing to do with the business going on in this clinic. I’m not sure why he’s here, but it isn’t to help. It has to be a punishment of some kind, so his feigned interest in me has to be a short-term thing to help him pass the time he’s required to be here.

Even though I don’t want to admit I’m having desires of my own, it’s difficult to deny. But as much as part of me would love nothing more than attending to his sexual needs while I tend to my—very neglected—own, there’s no way I’m ever getting involved with anyone ever again. Even if it is for only three nights. Even if he is a prince.

* * *