Her brother?

On the one hand, I find it incredibly disturbing that the host of the hostel and his questionable sanitation habits are connected to the lovely doctor in any way. On the other, I’m relieved to learn there was nothing untoward happening between them just now. When I saw him come out of the back room without his shirt…

God help you, I chastise myself. This isn’t the time to behave like a jealous fool. It hasn’t even been a day since I met Elle and I’m already acting possessive—though, to be fair, it’s not often I have any competition, especially from someone like that young man. It merely surprised me, that’s all. If I’d taken a moment to consider the situation, I would have seen from the start that my assumptions could hardly have been true.

But if you’re so certain, then why the show? Why the grand display? Because as much as I try to deny it, my entire body is on edge, ready to take on anyone who might threaten my claim on Elle. I may have only met her yesterday, but this is one challenge I am not ready to relinquish.

I straighten and look over at the doctor. She’s still glaring at me, but there’s a brightness in her eyes that tells me she’s enjoying our little argument as much as I am.

She’s looking exceedingly lovely today. While I was entranced by her yesterday—the glowing skin, the disheveled hair, the way her thin clothes clung to her body—I must admit I’m finding today’s version of Doctor Elle just as intriguing. Her hair is straight today—though the humidity has already started to draw out a few wispy curls—and if I’m not mistaken, she’s even wearing makeup. What ever could have inspired this extra attention to detail?

I smile to myself. There are, I suppose, many reasons why a woman might spend extra time on her appearance, but I suspect there’s only one reason why today, of all days, Elle decided to do such a thing.

In spite of her protests, she’s trying to impress me. And I have every intention of taking full advantage of that.

“Why don’t we get to business?” I say. “Since you’re clearly quite busy around here.”

She crosses her arms. “We aren’t done talking about that little scene you just caused.”

“By all means, continue to lecture me, if that’s what you desire.” I stroll over to the wooden bench against the wall and sink down, propping my hands behind my head as I lean back. “I thought you were eager to have our business over and done with, but if you prefer to spend more time in my company, then please, go on. I’m free all afternoon.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I try.”

She doesn’t return my grin. Instead, she turns on her heel. “Come on. I’ve gotten the financial statements together.”

I hop up and follow her into her office—taking full advantage of the view along the way. Her pants hug the round curve of her ass in a way that brings all the blood rushing straight to my cock, but I force myself to focus. I have a game to play, and if I try to move too fast, I’ll only send Elle running away again.

Her office, while still as empty and poorly stocked as before, looks a little neater today. There’s a stack of papers and files on the rickety table serving as her desk, and she taps it with her hand as she sinks onto her chair.

“There you go,” she says. “Have at it.”

I take the seat across from hers and pull the papers toward me. “Would you care to take me through it?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. You can read, can’t you? Or did they forget to teach you that at the same time they forgot to teach you manners?”

“Forgive me,” I say, raising a hand in surrender. “I simply wanted to know if there was anything you wanted to share that wasn’t explicitly stated here. I understand that not everything is always clear on paper. There are some things numbers can’t explain.”

That seems to surprise her. Her mouth falls open slightly, but for once, she doesn’t try to argue. Instead, I can almost see her walls coming down a little.

“It’s true,” she says as I flip open the top file. “Sometimes it’s not as simple as balancing the funds coming in with those going out.” There’s something almost wistful in her voice—something that sounds like hope.

And, God help me, I don’t want to be the one to take that hope away.

We can talk about the specifics of the clinic’s financial situation later. Now, I find myself wanting to kindle that bit of light for her. I’ve seen the passionate Elle, the capable Elle, the determined Elle—and now I have an intense longing to see the softer Elle. The one she’s hiding behind all the bravado.

“You’re right,” I tell her. “Sometimes it isn’t that simple. That’s why I’m here—to see and understand the things the Montovia Medical Council can’t see by only looking at the numbers.” I spread my hand against the page at the top of the file. “So tell me, Elle. What should I know about this place and your work here?”

She blinks. “I…” For the briefest of moments, I see the emotions flicker across her face—hope, of course, but also fear, and sadness, and longing—and I’m suddenly struck by how lonely it must have been here for her this past year, even with her brother so close. She’s been dealing with so much of this alone, working essentially by herself so far away from her home. Once again, I find myself wondering what drove her out here. What is she running from?

But before I can nudge her in that direction, she shakes her head, and instantly I see the walls go back up.

“I do the best I can,” she says simply. “All the money we receive goes into the clinic and toward the care of the people here. Most of them can’t afford to pay for the care I provide, but I refuse to turn anyone away.” She crosses her arms again. “But you knew all that.”

“Indeed I did,” I say, flipping over the top page. My eyes skim over the numbers, but I don’t read anything. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about these bloody financial statements. “But I thought you might have more to say.”

“You know what I have to say,” she tells me. The bit of softness I saw is disappearing again, lost behind her distrust of me.

I close the file. “I’m attempting to extend an olive branch, Doctor. We both have business to do, but we can be friends—”

“And I’ve told you that I know you aren’t interested in being friends. We had all these arguments yesterday, Your Highness.”

“Well, if you’d prefer to be more than friends, I have no intention of arguing with that,” I say, grinning. “But I’d settle for less than friends as well, as long as it allowed us to move forward with the proceedings.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head again, then leans forward, holding her face in her hands in apparent exasperation.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks into her palms. “Why are you making this so difficult?” She doesn’t sound angry—just defeated. And sad.

My chest tightens. I have no interest in distressing anyone—but least of all this woman, who puts on such a brave face but appears to be suffering gravely beneath the surface. I close the file and sit back.

“We can put this off until tomorrow,” I say gently.

She drops her hands. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Then what would you like me to do, Elle?” I say, leaning forward across the table. “We can put this off until another day, or we can deal with it now. You can tell me more about the clinic, or I can analyze these financial statements without that information. The one thing I cannot do is walk away from my responsibility.” I drop my voice slightly. “Somehow, though, I don’t think you want that. I think you’re grateful to have someone to talk to besides your brother and Raul.”

“I’m not that pathetic,” she says, but her eyes fall away from mine. “And I have plenty of people to talk to.”

“Mm. I suppose you know better than I do.” I slide my finger across a crack in the vinyl surface of the table between us. “May I ask you, Elle, when was the last time you did more than talk with someone?”

She understands my meaning immediately, and her eyes snap back to mine. “You most certainly may not. How the hell is that any of your business? Or is that an acceptable question in your country?”

“Forgive me for giving offense. I simply didn’t want to make any assumptions. After all, you’ve been here for a year—”

“And you think I haven’t…that I’ve been alone all this time?”

“As I said, I didn’t want to assume anything.” For all I know, it’s possible she’s had some affair with a local man, or even one of those repellent backpackers coming through—but judging by her reaction, my initial guess was correct.

“My sex life is none of your business,” she says.

“I never claimed it was.”

“And I don’t see why it matters. It’s not like you can’t have a fulfilling life without sex. There are more important things in this world than getting off.” Her cheeks are getting redder with every word, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “And maybe you’d know that, too, if you thought with something besides your cock.” She seems to realize she’s given more away than she intended to, because she clamps her lips together. Her chest rises and falls, straining against a shirt that is intoxicatingly snug across her breasts.

I don’t say anything immediately. Instead, I straighten slightly, watching as the blush on her cheeks spreads all the way to her ears.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I say. “But there’s no shame in having needs, Doctor. No shame in wanting someone to hold you at night, or wanting to enjoy the pleasure of another’s body. Yes, life is full of other perfectly wonderful things, but I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that your body doesn’t crave that intimacy.” I hear her breath catch as my hand closes over hers. “I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about doing those very pleasurable, very intimate things with me.”

Her breaths are shallow and fast. She can’t seem to find her voice.

“Tell me that you haven’t thought about those things,” I tell her, “and I’ll never raise the subject again. But tell me you have, Elle, and I will make sure I fulfill every one of your fantasies and more.”

* * *