She’s looking at me very oddly.

I can’t decide whether her thoughts bend in my favor or not. Honestly, telling her I had additional questions for her was a ruse—I have little interest in reviewing the financial statements, especially when time is so limited. But I do wish to hear more from Elle, to bring her walls back down. I shouldn’t have been so forward with her, perhaps, but when I saw how much she squirmed and blushed under my questions about her sex life, I couldn’t help myself.

Now, though, I have to help her relax again. I want to see some of that softness return to her eyes. The more time I spend with her, the more curious I become about her. I want to know more about this woman who pours so much of her heart into a place so far from her home—and why she believes she owes me or this place anything.

This is new, I realize. Most of the time I care about little beyond a woman’s name—and even that doesn’t always matter. Maybe it’s the humid air or the strange events of the past couple of days, but I find myself eager to discover the deeper layers of this woman. If that leads to other pleasures, even better—but I must restrain myself for now.

“Did you have a question?” she asks me. “If not, I need to get back to cleaning.”

“Ah, yes,” I say. “But first, I’d like to understand why you thought I was going to accuse you of owing anything to Montovia.”

She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, and I try not to imagine what it would feel like to suck that plump bottom lip of hers between my teeth.

“It’s nothing,” she says after a moment. “You know that I only accept what people can pay for the treatments here. I just thought you were planning to make me pay for the difference.”

“I have no intention of any such thing.” My father or the Medical Council might have different ideas, but I’ll handle them later.

“Then what were you planning to ask me?” she prompts.

“I…” I straighten and rub the back of my head. I should have been better prepared, but as usual, she’s caught me off guard. From one moment to the next, I can’t tell whether she despises me or whether she wants me to peel off all her clothes and take one of those luscious breasts in my mouth. “I’d like to know what a typical week’s activity looks like. How many patients do you see?”

“More than we should,” she says, her eyes dropping to the table. “But again, you know that I refuse to turn anyone away.”

I was expecting a numerical answer, but I see an opening and follow it. “Because you clearly care deeply about the people who come into this clinic, Elle.”

“You don’t get into this career if you don’t care. And you don’t take jobs at charity clinics unless you’re serious about helping people.”

“You help people at the expense of yourself,” I comment.

She stiffens. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t willing to do that. If I were interested in money or comfort, there are a thousand cushy medical jobs back in the States.”

“But you chose to come here,” I say, nodding. “And you would give anything for the people who walk into this clinic.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” she asks. “Because I’m not apologizing for that.”

“On the contrary. I’m simply wondering why someone who cares so deeply for her work, who’s willing to sacrifice so much for her patients, would walk away from this position.” I lace my fingers together. It’s a dangerous question—I risk frightening her back into her shell—but I can’t deny my curiosity.

She hesitates. The shadows fill her eyes again, but she doesn’t grow angry this time. In fact, she looks like she may give me an honest answer.

But then she shakes her head. “I’m willing to answer any questions you have about the business and financials of this clinic,” she says. “But I’m under no obligation to say more than that. I’ve fulfilled my contract. That’s all that should matter to you.”

“You haven’t fulfilled your contract completely,” I point out. “You still have two more days.”

She rises. “And I’ll be here for those two days, but I’m sure your country will be much happier if I spend them doing the work I was hired to do, rather than answering a bunch of questions that are none of your business. Unless you’re confused about those statements in front of you, then I have nothing to say to you.”

There is plenty I could ask her about the statements, but before I can utter a word, the door bursts open and her assistant—Raul, was it?—comes rushing in.

“There’s another child,” he says.

Elle doesn’t hesitate, and she doesn’t even glance in my direction before rushing out the door, leaving me once again alone with the files.

Unfortunate timing, I think. I was just starting to believe I might be able to get past the barriers she’s put up between us, but it appears the universe is conspiring against me.

Almost as soon as that thought settles in, the shame follows as I remember the poor child she saw yesterday. She said that wasn’t a rare occurrence—what if the child who just came in is equally as ill? How can I sit here lamenting the fact that I haven’t managed to soften and seduce the lovely doctor when a child might be fighting for his life?

Look at you, I think. Listening to your conscience again.

I close the file in front of me. Part of me wants to go after Elle, to watch her tend to the child and to observe how lovely she is in action. But I have a feeling that wouldn’t help my case.

Still, I’m suddenly feeling very restless. I have no interest in reading these reports. What am I doing here? How did I end up in the jungle worrying about babies and chasing after such a complicated woman?

You know why you’re here, I remind myself. This is your own doing. And Andrew’s, of course—but I’m trying to make my peace with that. In spite of everything that happened on that night, I’m not sure I can blame anyone but myself. I was the one who convinced Andrew to go to Prague with me. I was the one who insisted that he needed to loosen up, have a little fun. It’s only right that I should be covering for him now.

I stand. I need to get out of here. Need to work off some of this agitated energy. I grab the files and put them under my arm. I’ll force myself to look at them later. Now, I just need to leave.

I head back to La Playa first. Toss the files down onto my bed. Flip on the television. But it only takes me a few seconds to realize watching dubbed sitcoms isn’t going to do anything to soothe this restlessness. The room feels too hot, the air too thick, and my entire body is on edge. I start pacing.

What is happening to me?

My thoughts keep going back to Elle. To the determination I’ve seen in her eyes, to the passion I’ve heard in her voice, to that perfect, curvy body I can’t seem to get out of my mind. Everything about her tempts me closer. Every encounter we have leaves me more intrigued. I’ve wanted her physically since the moment I laid eyes on her, but it’s my interest in the rest of her—in the thoughts behind those intoxicating eyes—that unsettles me.

A knock sounds at my door, and I freeze.

“Your Highness?” comes Matthias’s voice after a moment. “Have you returned?”

My shoulders relax. For a moment, I thought Elle might have come after me—but that was a foolish assumption.

You’re mad, I tell myself as I walk over to the door. Why have you let this woman get under your skin?

I open the door to find Matthias grinning up at me.

“I thought I heard you,” he says cheerfully. “These walls are thinner than paper. But I didn’t expect you until later.”

“The clinic was busy,” I tell him. “I brought back the files I needed.”

“Ah, good,” he says, nodding. “I informed your father of our safe arrival. He says he expects a call from you later.”

Of course he does, I think, running a hand through my hair. But I don’t have the patience for my father now. “Thank you, Matthias. Is there anything else you need?”

“The Medical Council has sent over an additional list of things they need you to inspect. And some paperwork and information regarding a Doctor Walter Mitchell.”

“The new doctor,” I say, understanding. That explains why I didn’t find any information about him in my files. Everything about this clinic from top to bottom reeks of disorganization and poor planning. It’s a wonder it’s been functioning for as long as it has.

It’s Elle. Her attention and devotion have given it life, even when it’s falling apart around her.

“I’ve organized a list of all the amenities in Rio de Campo,” Matthias says. “The information I compiled before we arrived was outdated and incomplete, but I’ve been talking to some of the nice young people who work here. There isn’t much in the way of restaurants, but I’ve got information on the markets. And the city of Santa Rosa isn’t far. I can drive up there tomorrow and stock up on necessities.”

Santa Rosa is where the hospital is, I remember.

“And if you’re in the mood for a little recreation,” he continues, “they gave me a map of the nearby walking trails. There’s also a zipline a couple of kilometers to the north, and they launch whitewater rafting tours from a spot just up the river.”

I wonder what Elle thinks about that, I muse. Her brother and the other backpackers amusing themselves with adventure tours while her patients can’t even afford care. Thinking about her makes me start to feel restless again.

“There’s also the bar below,” Matthias goes on. “You should have gone down there last night. Lots of pretty girls here.” He gives me a wink and nudges me with his elbow.

There’s only one girl on my mind—and she’s currently saving a child’s life. And determined to hate me, it would seem.

My temples throb. “I think I’m going to take a little walk.” I need to clear my head.

“Wonderful, Your Highness,” Matthias says. “I’ll come with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. Another time, Matthias’s cheerfulness would have been exactly what I needed, but not today. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Matthias, thankfully, doesn’t try to argue. He knows how to read my moods by now. He gives a single nod and says, “Make sure you have your mobile. Your parents will have my head if anything happens to you.”

Honestly, I doubt that—their lives would be significantly easier if their problem son weren’t around. But I pat my pocket for Matthias’s sake. “I’ll call you if I run into any trouble.”

He nods. “You should come back for happy hour. You might enjoy it.”

“I’ll leave the pretty girls to you,” I say, forcing a grin. “Thank you, Matthias.”

He knows when he’s dismissed. And I have no reason to linger, so I lock my door and head back outside.

There’s a trailhead right behind La Playa, marked by a wooden sign printed with both Spanish and English words. Apparently the path leads down toward the river, and it seems to be as good a destination as any. I care little about where I go—I need to move. To work this tension out of my body.

Normally, if I were in this sort of mood, the solution would be simple—I’d simply find a beautiful, willing woman and release all my stress and agitation in the most pleasurable way possible. But considering it’s a woman who’s put me in this state—a woman who’s being stubbornly resistant to my charms—I need an alternative form of relief.

On another day, I might have found my surroundings fascinating, but right now I’m not in the mood to give them more than a cursory glance. The trees tower overhead, and everything is green and lush—from the vines hanging on the trees to the ferns spilling onto the dirt path. Birds chirp and whistle in the branches above, and there are also many calls I can’t recognize—frogs? Monkeys? Honestly, I’m not sure I care at the moment.

I stalk down the path, clenching and unclenching my fists. I’m tempted to throw a punch at one of the trees, but I suspect it wouldn’t be wise for a prince of Montovia to cause any damage to the rainforest. And Elle wouldn’t be impressed if I appeared at her clinic with bloodied knuckles.

Stop thinking about her, I tell myself. Maybe I should take Matthias up on happy hour and find myself a pretty young thing to distract me for the night. Maybe a tumble is exactly what I need to get the doctor out of my mind. My interest in Elle is unsettling, yes—but I suspect it will be as fleeting as my interest in any other woman has ever been. She’s merely different than the women I normally meet.

But as soon as I’ve decided that this is the best course of action, I find myself changing my mind again. I keep marching down the trail.

After a kilometer or so, the path forks. There is another wooden sign here, and the arrows indicate the left path continues to the zipline and adventure course, while the right path goes down to the river. Honestly, it doesn’t matter where I go, but I hear laughter and shrieks coming from the direction of the zipline, and I find I’m not the least bit interested in encountering any of my hostel-mates at the moment. I take the path toward the river.

This should be simple, I tell myself. You just need to do what you were sent here to do, make your father happy, and return to your normal life. Forget about your conscience. Forget about your cock. There’s no reason to cause yourself distress over any of this. It’s just a woman. It’s just a clinic.

I stop and run a hand through my hair. The trees are thick here, blocking most of the light overhead, and the forest extends in lush shades of green and brown on every side of me. I’ve been around the world a dozen times, but I rarely step beyond the cities—hell, I rarely step beyond the luxury resorts in the cities. This feels like a completely different world.

The back of my neck prickles.

I stiffen, turning quickly, but there’s no one on the path behind me. No one in any direction.

You’re mad, I tell myself. Jumping at shadows. What is this place doing to me?

Still, my senses are on full alert as I continue down the path. A breeze sweeps through the branches and vines, making the leaves rustle, and I can hear the rush of the river below, but otherwise the forest is silent.

Silent.

I stop again, listening. When I entered the forest, I heard dozens of cries from birds and other creatures. Now everything has fallen quiet.

I turn slowly this time. The tiny hairs on my neck are standing up, and my hand clenches, ready to fly at whatever threat might be bearing down on me.

As my eyes scan the trees, I realize the potential threats are quite numerous. The jungle is full of deadly creatures—jaguars, boa constrictors, and other predators—and there’s also the human threat as well. I’m a prince of a small but extremely wealthy nation. Kidnapping and ransom attempts are always a possibility—and I’m out here alone.

My gaze rises to the branches above me, looking for a flash of scales or spots that might indicate a dangerous beast. I see nothing, but that doesn’t mean something isn’t there. As for men…

I wish I’d thought to bring a weapon. Civilian citizens of Montovia aren’t permitted to own firearms, but my time in the royal military made me proficient in the use of a number of weapons. I didn’t bring any guns with me, but there’s a small knife back in my luggage. I regret I didn’t think to bring it along. My distraction has made me careless.

Slowly, I bend down and grab a stone. It’s smaller than my palm, but it’s the only weapon I have at hand. I still see nothing among the trees, but I’m not taking any chances. My entire body is tense. On alert.

After a moment, when nothing has moved, I start moving back down the path in the direction from which I came. The rock is clenched in my fingers, ready to be hurled at the first sign of movement. As a prince, my military training was more a formality than anything else—they would never send someone of royal blood into actual combat—but that doesn’t mean I didn’t pick up some useful tactical skills.

The ground slopes downward on my left, angling in what I suspect is the direction of the river. Most animal predators would stalk me from higher ground—it gives them a distinct advantage—and the same is true for any men with actual training or experience in this sort of thing. Since I have yet to catch sight of anyone or anything, I suspect I’m not dealing with amateurs. The bad news is that I’m in the weaker position. The good news is that this means I can keep my attention solely on the forest to the right of the path.

I move slowly at first, then quicken my pace little by little. I wish I’d thought to read those books on the jungle Matthias collected before our departure—they might have given me a better idea of what natural predators to expect in a place like this, and possibly even how to behave upon encountering such beasts. Will I provoke a jaguar into chasing me if I try to run? Should I stand my ground and shout in an attempt to scare it off?

Frankly, though, it’s the idea of human predators that makes me more anxious. I could take two or three men by myself—unless they had firearms. But if they have guns, then why haven’t they approached me yet? I’m armed only with a stone.

A twig snaps behind me. I freeze and glance back.

The next few seconds are a blur—suddenly there’s a large shape moving toward me, and I don’t have time to do anything but react. The stone flies from my hand, and my aim must be good because I hear a cry—but whether it’s human or animal, I don’t know. As I spin around, my foot slides off the path onto the slope down toward the river, and suddenly everything is shifting beneath me. I go flying backward, sliding down the incline before I have a chance to see what tried to attack me.

I know from my military training how to fall, but those lessons never prepared me for an environment like this. Though I try to roll in a way that protects my body, there are too many things in the way. One of my feet catches in some underbrush as my left shoulder hits the base of a tree. I grunt in pain, but the sound is lost as I keep tumbling. And then just when I think the fall will never end, my body slams into a large rock. Searing pain erupts through my side.

I groan, but there’s no time to think about the pain. I attempt to sit, forcing myself up on my elbows, and look back up the slope. I need to find another weapon before whatever attacked me tries again.

There’s nothing on the slope. I wait for several long, painful moments, but nothing appears to be coming after me. Maybe I actually hurt the damn thing—or at least scared it off for the time being.

Only when I’m sure I’m not in immediate danger do I look down at my side. There’s a tear in my shirt, and beneath it, a huge gash is oozing massive amounts of blood.

Fuck.

Now that I’ve seen how bad it is, I’m suddenly aware of how lightheaded I am. I press one hand against the wound—wincing as I do—and fumble for my mobile in my pocket.

I’m right next to the riverbank. I’m going to have to shout to get Matthias to hear me over the roar of the water. But as my finger hits the call button and darkness starts closing in on my vision, I’m not thinking about the precariousness of my current situation. Instead, I find myself thinking, Well, at least I have an excuse to see Elle again today.

* * *