“Anyway, we’re going to be here for, what, another week you think?”
Nicki’s question cut across Ryker’s thoughts, and he followed her gaze to Stefan. The man’s aristocratic brows were arched as he regarded Nicki.
“You have somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“Well yeah, duh, we have the entire continent of Europe to explore. Sooner or later you’re going to have to let us all get back to our vacation.”
“We’ve all beenlanguishingwithout her,” Francesca put in wryly. “Sunning by the pool, gorging on three gourmet meals a day while we wait. It’s been a terrible hardship.”
“See?” Nicki crossed her arms and stared pointedly at Stefan. “How long?”
Stefan set his jaw, and Ryker watched him with interest as well. The stoic man was clearly concerned about the American, beyond simple camaraderie. “Another week, perhaps,” he said. “Possibly longer.”
“Ugh,” Nicki groaned, flopping back in her seat. Ryker swallowed his own grimace. He wanted to get on with his life, meet his family back on the mainland, begin doing what he could to piece his world back together again. As much as he appreciated what the royal family was trying to do for him, he had to get back to work. Though Stefan had told him he was not married, at one point, he’d had to have had a life, a job. It was time to find it.
They wove their way up the mountainside, and his attention moved to Francesca again. She sat almost motionless in the luxurious limo, her face in profile as she studied the road. More than anything, she appeared to be mapping the path back to the marina, noting every turn. As if she already was as stir crazy as he was, and she’d barely been there a half hour.
He settled back in his seat, his mind spinning. Maybe there was something he could do with that…maybe serene Francesca Simmons would be his ticket off this rock.
2
The royal apartments on Asteri Island were every bit as luxurious as those in the palace, and there was neither more nor less security here, for all that it was a bit more spread out. Still, Fran couldn’t fight down her anxiety as she paced the sumptuous bedroom that had been prepared for her. Nicki had dropped her off with an eye roll and foul words about another heart monitor test, but Fran hadn’t missed the way she and Stefan had sparred with each other the entire way up from the marina.
It didn’t take a psychology degree to identify that there was a definite energy between the two of them. It also didn’t take one to deduce the same between her and Ryker—or Ari, as she really should refer to him, at least to herself. Though he was undeniably more weathered, the prince looked close enough to the dozens of pictures of him scattered throughout the halls of the royal residence. She hadn’t made a particular study of them, and she regretted that now. Especially since the queen had some misguided belief that she could help tug Ari back toward his memories.
Fran wasn’t an expert on memory loss by any stretch. Sure, it wasn’t completely uncommon for victims of traumatic events to lose portions of their past—particularly those memories directly connected with the violence they experienced. But a full-scale amnesiac response following the crash had to be somewhat unusual. Ari had made the further step to become an entirely different person, too—the childhood avatar he’d chosen when playing with his brother Kristos, according to Nicki.
What did Ryker Stavros mean to Ari, such that in the wake of the crash, that he clung to that persona versus the person he truly was?
Not my problem,Fran reminded herself for the fiftieth time. And it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. Nicki had been clear on that score, too. No one was expecting Fran to provide some kind of psychological evaluation of Ari. They simply wanted her as the token companion. Someone who could tag along with the prince without irritating the bejesus out of him, she suspected, and maybe help him be more willing to take his medicine.
Her lips twisted. They wanted her to be Mary Poppins.
A brief knock at the door startled her. “Miss Simmons?” called a voice from the hallway.
She hurried to open the door, nodding at the uniformed maid. The woman appeared as sunny and cheerful as every staff member in the royal household, and she found herself wondering if it was an act.
Stop it. Not everyone fakes their way through life.
The maid beamed at her. “Queen Catherine has requested your presence in the receiving room, if you’re refreshed from your trip?”
Fran lifted her brows. That was quick. “Of course.”
She followed the woman down the long, sumptuously decorated hallway, all of it wrapped in marble and hardwoods, with gilt-framed mirrors and lush ferns breaking up the opulence. There weren’t any pictures here, but from what she understood this villa was used as more of an offshore guest cottage than an official residence of the palace. She snorted, then coughed to mask the derisive sound. What would it have been like to be Ari, growing up in this sort of household?
Her life with her dad hadn’t been bad, not really. Not until the end. But it certainly hadn’t been anything like this.
The maid stopped before a large door and gestured Fran inside, but Fran hesitated a moment.
“How many of them are in there?” she asked.
The woman dimpled at her with almost conspiratorial understanding. “The lot of them. King Jasen and Queen Catherine, Prince Kristos, Ambassador Mihal and Captain Korba. Also Dr. Lessing, I believe.” She brightened. “And Miss Clark. So you are not without friends.”
“Never that,” Fran said. Then she straightened her shoulders, her script set in her mind, and sailed into the room.
The maid had missed two additional doctors who sat at the edge of the chamber—or at least they looked like doctors—but otherwise she’d been right on target. The royal couple turned as a single unit when Fran entered, and Queen Catherine Andris stepped forward with her hands outstretched.
“Francesca, thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Real gratitude rang in her voice, so earnest that Fran couldn’t help but thaw a little. She allowed the queen to clasp her fingers and returned her regard steadily. “It means so much to me to have someone Ari’s age here while he’s being analyzed by all these strangers.”
