The Royal Pain Read Free Page A

Highness. I’m used to being screeched at by royalty. Oh, the things I could tell you if not for doctor-patient privilege.”
    â€œHey!” Christina yelped.
    â€œBesides, we can discuss that and—other things—at your appointment.”
    â€œWhat?” Alex cried, and nearly fell off the couch.

Chapter 3
    â€œE verything is really fine,” Alexandria said, looking Dr. Pohl straight in the eye with as open and honest a gaze as had ever been on a face.
    â€œWith all due respect, Your Highness, you’re full of shit.”
    â€œYou sounded exactly like Princess Christina when you said that,” she commented. “I must protest. How about a little respect for a member of the royal family?”
    â€œHow about a little respect for me?” Dr. Pohl replied quietly. She was an attractive, pale woman in her early sixties, with the curly white hair of a cherub and the piercing intellect of a Nobel Prize winner. Which she was. “It’s quite obvious you aren’t sleeping well. It was obvious before yesterday’s incident.”
    â€œAt least we got the ceremony done. Thank God the press wasn’t there anymore.”
    â€œYes, that’s exactly the thing we should be worrying about right now. You’re a beautiful woman, Princess Alexandria, but you’ve got bags under your eyes the size of tea cups.”
    â€œPartying,” she suggested. “The wild royal lifestyle.”
    â€œNice try, but you weren’t anywhere in that issue of People .”
    Alex shrugged and looked around the large office. “It’s not a problem for me. It’s just…how things are now.”
    â€œI disagree.”
    â€œThere is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”
    Dr. Pohl raised white eyebrows.
    â€œIt might seem personal.”
    â€œTry me, Your Highness.”
    â€œI’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up for months.”
    Dr. Pohl leaned forward. “You’re safe here, Princess. You can discuss anything with me.”
    â€œWhat’s with all the ducks?” There were pictures of mallards on the wall, wood duck statues, antique painted duck decoys, pinheads, spoonbills, and mergansers. Two framed duck prints from America. “I’m having waterfowl overload. Is it a special thing with you? Were you raised by mallards?”
    Dr. Pohl settled back, admirably masking her sigh. She ran a hand through her white curls, adjusted her glasses, and put her pencil down. “You’re changing the subject, Your Highness. Not surprising, given what happened yesterday, but not helpful, either.”
    â€œWell, I can if I want. I can talk about anything in here I want. I’m safe, remember?”
    â€œYou say that like you don’t believe it.”
    She looked away. “Like I said, I can change the subject to whatever I want.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, striving not to sound like a spoiled palace brat, and failing. “Current events. Waterfowl. The state of the Union. Prince William’s upcoming marriage, which my dad actually thinks he’ll be invited to. My niece. She’s brilliant, you know.”
    â€œSo you’ve said. Your Highness—”
    â€œShe’s already talking and she’s only one.”
    â€œYes, Your—”
    â€œShe’s practically toilet training herself and she’s only one. Isn’t that amazing? Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
    â€œFortunately, she won’t ever have to worry about Devon.”
    Alex felt herself tighten. “That’s a little obvious for a supposedly subtle analyst, isn’t it?”
    â€œI suppose.”
    â€œAnd there’s always a Devon,” she said bitterly. “Always.”
    â€œSo your niece isn’t safe? Your brother? Your father? If someone turns up late, they’ve been kidnapped?”
    â€œLook, I overreacted yesterday, okay?