what? Which hospital?’ Abandoning his date in the middle of dinner, Damon pocketed his phone and strode out to the limo, his security team clearing the throng of journalists who haunted his every move. ‘How badly is she hurt?’
‘The hospital wouldn’t give details, sir.’ Franco, his driver, manoeuvred skilfully through the heavy London traffic. ‘Just told me it was a head injury, but they’re keeping her in overnight so it must be bad.’
Undoing his bow tie with a few flicks of his fingers, Damon leaned back against the seat of the car and attempted to rein in his frustration.
Why the hell had she left the building? He’d left precise instructions that she should stay in the apartment. Instructions she’d apparently ignored.
The girl was an utter disaster.
Part of him was tempted to leave her to suffer for her own stupidity but another part was acutely aware that she was on her own in hospital and no one knew how to contact her father.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Ring the press anonymously, Franco. Make sure they know she’s in hospital.’
His driver glanced in the rearview mirror. ‘They put her there, boss.’
‘I don’t mean the tabloids, I mean broadcast media. Ring the news desk. Tell them that Miss Prince has been badly injured in an accident and we don’t know how long she’ll be in hospital. Keep it vague and worrying. I want the story on the next news headlines. With pictures, to make sure they know which hospital.’
Surely hearing news that his only daughter was in hospital should flush Peter Prince out from hiding?
Optimistic that this latest development could be turned to his advantage, Damon forced himself to relax as they negotiated traffic but his underlying concern for his sister was growing with every hour she failed to make contact.
Arianna had been six years old when their parents had died. Landed with the towering responsibility of caring for her, Damon had grown up overnight. He’d understood that she was now his responsibility. That it was his job to prevent his little sister from being hurt. What he hadn’t realised it was that the biggest threat to her happiness would come from Arianna herself.
What if she did something stupid like marrying the guy?
Fifteen minutes later his limousine pulled up in the ambulance bay of the large city hospital and Damon sprang from the car and strode into the emergency department, relieved to be able to focus on something other than the dubious life choices made by his sister.
The hospital was heaving but the crowd of people at the desk took one look at him and parted like the Red Sea.
The receptionist immediately sat up straight and smoothed her hair. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for a friend of mine.’ Damon bestowed his most winning smile on the dazzled woman. ‘Polly Prince. She was knocked out and brought in by ambulance. I expect she’s on a trolley somewhere.’
‘Prince—Prince—’ Her expression glazed, the girl finally dragged her eyes from his face and checked the records. ‘Cubicle One. But you can’t—’
‘Is that left or right?’ Well aware of the effect he had on women, Damon wasn’t afraid to use it to his advantage when it suited him. ‘I’m so grateful for your help.’
‘Left through the double doors,’ she said breathlessly. ‘The doctor is with her.’
‘Efaristo. Thank you.’ Flashing her a smile, he strode through the doors before anyone had time to challenge him and found himself in a cubicle, empty except for a doctor who looked as though she were about to explode.
Damon felt a flash of empathy. ‘Don’t tell me. You just had an encounter with Polly and now you need to go to anger management classes.’ In one glance he took in the empty trolley and the bloodstained bandage. ‘Where is she?’
‘She just discharged herself against medical advice. We wanted to admit her for twenty-four hours observation but she says she can’t possibly stay because she has things she has to do. She’s certainly a strong minded young woman.’
Damon thought back to that day at the school when Polly had stuck out her chin and resolutely refused to explain her outrageous behaviour to anyone. Strong-minded was a polite description. ‘Why did she discharge herself?’
‘She said she had too much to do, but what she should be doing is lying down and resting. She’s had a nasty bang on the head.’ Clearly annoyed, the doctor slipped her stethoscope back into her pocket. ‘She mentioned a trip to Paris and a meeting with an important client. We couldn’t get her to let go of her phone. It was welded to her hand right the way through my examination.’ The doctor relented. ‘I have to admit her dedication impressed me.’
Struggling to reconcile the word ‘dedication’ with Polly, Damon wondered if he and the doctor were talking about the same person. ‘So you’re saying that you advised her to stay in, but she walked out?’
‘That’s right. She’ll probably be all right at home as long as she isn’t on her own. Just make sure you know what to look out for and you can bring her back in if anything about her condition unsettles you.’
Damon didn’t waste time correcting the doctor’s assumption that he’d be spending the night with Polly. Instead he scanned the exits. ‘Which way did she go?’
‘She went out of the ambulance entrance. She said she had a lift home.’ Puzzled, the doctor looked at him. ‘I assumed that was why you were here?’
But Damon was already on his way out of the door, his phone in his hand as he instructed his driver to bring the car round. ‘Have you seen Polly Prince?’
‘No.’
Damon swore fluently and then looked around him. Even this late in the evening the hospital was buzzing with activity. There was no sign of Polly. ‘Which is the nearest underground station?’
‘I believe it’s Monument, boss.’
Following a hunch, Damon slid into the car. ‘Let’s go. Take the most obvious pedestrian route.’
Within two minutes he saw her, walking with her head down and her shoulders hunched, looking as though she were going to collapse at any minute.
‘Pull over.’ Damon sprang from the car and was next to her in three strides. ‘Theé mou, do you have a death wish? First you leave the office when I warn you about the mob, and then you discharge yourself from hospital against doctor’s orders. What is wrong with you? Why do you have this urge to do the opposite of what you’re told?’
‘Damon?’ Bemused, she turned her head and he saw the bloody streaks in her blonde hair and the purple shadow darkening one side of her face.
‘Maledizione. They hit you?’
Looking distinctly disorientated, she glanced from him to the limousine and then back again. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were on a date.’
‘I was told you’d had an accident.’
