By three in the afternoon, Sofia went home, as she’d been called to the palace at five in the morning and had been going nonstop ever since. Stephani sat at her desk, fielding queries from the press and sorting through her materials from their trip. Raoul had hardly said a word to her before leaving for the hospital. She knew he had to be worried, but in a true relationship, you leaned on each other in times of trouble. That he’d shut her out spoke volumes.
The tender man who’d held her, who’d made love to her so thoroughly . . . he was gone.
At eight she heard from Rose that they had landed and were going straight to the hospital. Raoul hadn’t returned. Stephani thought about going to see the children, but she couldn’t face them right now. She was too raw, too worried to put on a happy face for their benefit. And she’d be lying if she hadn’t thought, once or twice during the week, what it would be like to be their stepmother. Instead she met with the housekeeper and cook about the needs of the family over the next few days, and then unpacked Raoul’s briefcase and her own. Tomorrow she’d work on putting together an analysis of their meetings during the trip. Raoul wouldn’t want the project to be delayed. If it was all he’d allow her to do to help, she’d do a top-notch job.
* * *
Marco was back at his post, and offered to drive her home. “You’ve got your suitcase and you’ve got to be tired,” he said gently. “Let me take you home and take your bag up for you, Stephani.”
“I should say no, but I’m not going to argue with you tonight, Marco. I’m exhausted. Thank you.”
They were quiet as they left the palace, but then Marco looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Stephani?”
“Yes?”
“About what happened this week . . . you and His Highness can count on my discretion.”
Her throat clogged as she met Marco’s kind gaze. His face blurred as tears stung her eyes. “No need,” she whispered. “I don’t think it’s going to happen again, Marco. But thank you.” She blinked the tears away. If there were crying to do, she’d do it at home, in private.
He watched the road, then glanced back at her again, his face a little harder. “If that’s the case, then I’m very sorry. You are both good people who deserve happiness. I had hoped maybe you found it in each other.”
“Me too, Marco, me too.” She sighed, bit down on her lip, regained control. “He was married to my cousin and now he’s married to the monarchy. He didn’t have to say it for me to understand what he was thinking today. If anything happens to Alexander, he steps up. He wears the crown.”
“Begging your pardon, but he does that anyway,” Marco countered. “King Alexander has eased off the day-to-day duties substantially over the last few years.”
They were both quiet for a few moments; his assertion was correct, after all. It didn’t make her feel any better.
“We’re here,” he said quietly, and pulled up outside her building.
He opened her door and she stepped out, and he retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. She moved to take it from him, but he shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’ll take this up for you and see you to your door.”
“Marco . . .”
“I insist.”
His kindness touched her. He was Raoul’s most trusted staffer but he’d always shown a genuine affection for the family. He’d been the one driving in the accident that had killed Ceci and Mariana, and everyone knew he’d blamed himself. Now he was trying to care for her, and it made her feel a little less alone.
He waited while she unlocked her door, and then stood back as she reached for the handle of her suitcase. “Thank you, Marco. For this and for everything you said.”
“Maybe you need to give it time,” he suggested helpfully.
But she shook her head. “I don’t know. And right now things are a little too hectic to be making demands. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled. “I always land right side up.”
He smiled back at her. “Well, good night, Stephani.”
“Good night, Marco.”
She wheeled her case inside, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the sofa. She didn’t unpack or even think about something to eat, though she hadn’t eaten since the hurried meal on the plane this morning. She simply sank down into the cushions, covered herself with a blanket, and fell asleep.
* * *
Stephani let it go a week before she said anything. By that time, Alexander was home from the hospital, with strict instructions as far as diet and activity, Diego and Rose were settled back in, and Lucy made do with calls from Canada each day or so to check up on her father. Alexander wasn’t working, though, and Stephani often arrived at work to find
Raoul already in his office. By Friday she was both annoyed and worried. He was working too hard, putting himself under greater pressure than was necessary, while keeping all his feelings to himself. It was business as usual, and now it was starting to make her mad. He was singularly focused on the resort project, and Stephani was working on it with him as well as keeping the office running and fielding inquiries about Alexander’s health. She was exhausted.
She understood him not delving into their personal relationship right now. She didn’t like it, but understood. But an acknowledgement of her help and support might have been nice. Prince or not, she deserved better than this.
She was battling with a spreadsheet when Diego strolled in. “Buenos días, bonita. Happy Friday.”