'No, I'm not pregnant,' she said flatly.
Outside, the autumn wind was blustering in a cold funnel along the street, turning the newspaper she bought into a wild, flapping creature. She took it into a little café and ordered a cappuccino and then raked her way through the windblown pages. Zaffirinthos was a relatively small principality which was rarely newsworthy, but a young prince hovering between life and death would always make the international pages.
Her teeth chattering, she read:
King Casimiro of Zaffirinthos was today fighting for his life following a violent fall from his horse.
Cathy began to shake as the first thought which washed over her in a wave of intense relief was that … it wasn't Xaviero. But this was quickly followed by a second-a lurch of terrible guilt and sorrow-to realise that his brother should be lying stricken.
Poor Casimiro. Poor, poor Casimiro, she thought painfully as she read on.
The dashing royal, 34, who recently acceded to the throne of the tiny island kingdom, has been airlifted to the capital's hospital, where he remains in a coma. Doctors are refusing to comment on claims that the King is near death. His younger brother, Xaviero, 33 (pictured, right), is tonight on his way from South America to be at his stricken brother's bedside. This is not the first time that tragedy has struck the fabulously wealthy di Cesere family. In a cruel twist of fate, Queen Sophia-the King's mother and a noted beauty-died of a brain haemorrhage a quarter of a century ago.
Instinctively, Cathy began to examine the snatched photo, taken at Bogotá airport. Xaviero looked grim-faced and ravaged-his hand raised as if to strike the camera from the hands of the person taking the photograph. He looked haunted, she thought-and her heart went out to him.
Staring blandly at her now-cold coffee, she wondered if there was any way she could help. But Xaviero would be home by now, surrounded by advisors and guided by protocol, no doubt-what on earth could she possibly do?
Until she remembered that he had given her his cell-phone number-though possibly it was the only time a number had been handed out with the instruction not to use it.
'Only if it is absolutely necessary,' he had told her, his stern face leaving her in no doubt that he meant every word. 'If, for example, you were to discover that you were pregnant.' He had acknowledged her shocked little intake of breath, and had nodded, his face grim. 'And yes, I know we have taken every precaution, but accidents can and do happen-though, obviously, we both sincerely hope that this is not the case.'
Cathy bit her lip. What would she do if it were anyone else? If it were a friend or a colleague, someone she cared about or even someone she had cared about? Why, even if it were Peter-her errant fiancé-she would send him a message straight away, telling him to hang on in there and that she was thinking of him. But this was different. Imagine the amount of people who would be trying to get in touch with a man as important as Xaviero. She was crazy to even think of trying.
As the days dragged by she couldn't settle. She kept thinking about Xaviero and wondering how his brother was faring-but even though she scoured the newspapers and the Internet for news there was no new update on his condition.
But one evening her conscience got the better of her and she knew she had to contact him. Who cared if it was the wrong thing to do, or if it was some diplomatic no-no? Or even if he thought her a fool for doing so? This wasn't about her-it was about him.
Sitting down on the rather scruffy sofa, she carefully composed words of comfort in her head before she dared translate them into a text message-terrified that he might think she was writing to him simply because she had an ulterior motive. In the end, she simply wrote: 'DESPERATELY SORRY TO HEAR YOUR BROTHER SO SICK. MY THOUGHTS WITH YOU. CATHY.' She hesitated before adding a single 'X', and then she pressed the 'send' button before she could change her mind.
She didn't expect to hear anything and when the phone began to ring a bit later on she thought it was probably Sandy, who'd been trying to persuade her to go to a comedy stand-up evening in town. But a quick glance at the screen of her cell phone set her heart racing in disbelief. It said … it said …
Xaviero?
Heart pounding, Cathy snatched up the receiver. 'H-hello?'
'Cathy?'
'Yes, it's me. Oh, Xaviero, I'm so s-'
His words cut across hers. 'Are you alone?'
'Yes. Yes, I am. Xaviero-how's your bro-?'
Again he interrupted. 'I can't talk for long and I can't guarantee the security of the line. I need you to listen carefully, Cathy-and then to answer me. Can you come out to Zaffirinthos?'
'Wh-when?'
'Tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow? But, Xaviero-I don't understand-'
'I told you.' His voice sounded strained. 'I can't talk now-all I need is your answer-a simple yes, or no?'
Her mind was spinning as she tried to take in his extraordinary request, but on another level she registered the harshness of his tone. Her acquaintanceship with Xaviero might not have been long but it had certainly been intense and she knew that a tone like that brooked no argument.
Which meant that if she went, she would be going into the unknown …
'You hesitate, Cathy,' came the cool interruption to her swirling thoughts.
His words brought Cathy snapping straight back into reality. Why on earth was she hesitating for more than a second? This was the man who had haunted her dreams and her waking hours. The man who had made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. Who had made her realise what glorious highs there could be in life … and what crashing lows, too. But he had taught her how to feel alive.
Yes, he was a prince, but in a way that was irrelevant-for the man with golden eyes had a power which he had exerted over her from the very start. Did he need her and wouldn't that be the most glorious thing in the world-to be needed by Xaviero? Cathy swallowed. He wasn't telling her anything and if she went to Zaffirinthos it would be on blind faith alone-a faith which might easily be misplaced and leave her as empty as a waterless well.
But there was no choice. Not when you felt the way she felt about Xaviero-no matter how many times she'd tried to tell herself that it was a complete waste of time. Sometimes you just had to follow your heart-to take a risk and leap into the unknown.
'Yes, I'll come to Zaffirinthos,' she said.
Standing in the ornate splendour of one of the palace's private offices, Xaviero expelled a long, low breath.
'Have your passport ready,' he instructed softly. 'A car will be sent to pick you up at ten tomorrow morning-'
'Xaviero, I have a new job.'
'Yes, I know that,' he said impatiently as he saw the red light of another phone begin to flash on his desk. 'I've had my people check it out.'
My people? For some reason the words jarred. It sounded scary-and more than a bit controlling. 'I can't just walk out and leave them in the lurch.'
'Don't worry-all that will be taken care of. The store will be adequately compensated and a replacement found for you, if necessary.'
He barely even needed to think about it, she realised. Such was his power and his influence that he could simply shift people around like chess pieces. He had done it first with Rupert and now he was doing it again. Could that be good for a person? Was it good for her to be at his beck and call like this? 'And I've moved. I'm not living where you think I'm living any more.'
'I know that, too. Cathy, these are just minor details which can easily be resolved.'
Minor details? These minor details were her life! Cathy swallowed. It sounded so humdrum to ask-but she needed to know, or risk making a fool of herself. 'And what … what shall I bring?'
'Bring very little.' There was a pause. 'All that will be taken care of as well.'
Again, that sense of utter influence and dominance-that newly emphatic timbre to his voice. Surely he had not sounded quite that oppressive in the past? Did that mean her stay was to be short? 'Xaviero, I-'
'Look, I told you-I can't talk now. It's … I'll see you tomorrow-there will be time enough then.' There was a pause. 'Goodbye, Cathy.'
She was left holding a buzzing receiver as he terminated the connection and when she'd replaced the receiver she didn't move for a moment or two. As if expecting her phone to ring again and for someone to say that it had all been a mistake. That the Prince had temporarily taken leave of his senses.
But no such phone call came, and instead Cathy realised that what he'd said must be true. Pulling herself together, she went into her bedroom and packed a small suitcase-hideously aware of the shortcomings of her meagre wardrobe.