He’d prepared for this role his whole life. He’d always known this time would come, as had his brother and sister. There was no doubt that Anthony had the hardest role—as the oldest child he was expected to take over from their father when he abdicated next year.
Philippe nodded as one of the personal concierges set a cocktail down next to him. This was his time to reflect, to plan, to take stock of what he’d learned from around the globe and apply it to the services and people in Corinez.
He had to—because paradise had changed a little over the last few years. Corinez had always been known as an island paradise. For the rich it was well known as a tax haven—the casinos flourished. Lots of celebrities had homes in Corinez. But over the last few years things had changed. The recession had hit areas of Corinez like every other country and, while the fabulously rich still existed, the people who struggled were becoming more noticeable, and those were the ones that Philippe wanted to focus on. He firmly believed that everyone was entitled to healthcare. He wanted to introduce a system in Corinez similar to the NHS in the UK. He had to start somewhere and now, more than ever, he knew that maternity care was the place to begin.
So why was he spending his time thinking about the beautiful Malaysian doctor he’d met yesterday?
Most of his dreams last night had been haunted by her dark hair, serious brown eyes, slim frame, pink shirt and dark figure-hugging trousers. He could remember every detail.
When he’d first watched her, he’d admired her easy manner as she’d interacted with the little girl. But from the second she’d realised he was there he’d almost been able to see the shutters go down over her eyes. He’d been surprised by her instantly suspicious gaze. The truth was—he wasn’t used to it.
He’d spent his life in two roles. Prince Philippe or Dr Aronaz. Neither of which was usually met with suspicion. But he hadn’t introduced himself to Arissa as either. Which for him was unusual. He was trying hard to keep a low profile. But now he was here?
The clientele were clearly exclusive. He’d recognised an actor hiding from a scandal. An unscrupulous politician. An author who seemed to spend all day furiously typing her latest novel. And several well-known business associates who were obviously trying to take some time to relax—even though they had phones pressed permanently to their ears.
Truth was, he really didn’t want to spend time with any of these people. Particularly the blonde actress who seemed to be trying to attract his attention right now. His last experience of a relationship with an actress hadn’t gone so well. She’d relished dating a prince. She’d loved the attention. The constant media coverage. What she hadn’t loved was how dedicated Philippe was to his work. Or that his plans for the future had included even more work. When he’d refused to choose her over his day job she’d dumped him mercilessly. He wasn’t afraid to admit he’d been hurt. He might even have loved her a little, but her hour-long interview about him on prime-time TV had killed that feeling completely. He was wary now. He wasn’t ready to put his heart on the line in such an obvious way again. Here, he could just be Philippe, not a prince of Corinez. That felt surprisingly refreshing.
He looked around again. What exactly was he going to do? There was a gym—been there, done that. A business centre—no way. A beauty salon—no. A masseuse—he shuddered. He’d never been one for a stranger’s hands on his skin. As for the tennis and squash courts? It was hard to play tennis or squash solo. He stretched out his arms, feeling the sun continue to heat his skin. Arissa’s face flooded into his brain again.
He’d seen the disappointment on her face yesterday when she’d realised Dr Reacher wouldn’t be joining her. Philippe hadn’t even asked what impact that might have on her. To be honest he’d been a little stung by her sudden dismissal.
He wasn’t used to being treated like that. Sure, like any doctor he’d dealt with drunk or difficult patients. As a prince he’d dealt with arrogant or obnoxious dignitaries. But Arissa? That was something a little different. It was almost as if he’d done something to offend her—and he was sure that he hadn’t.