The Royal Pain (15 page)

N
icky!

“Alex.”

Get down!

“Alex.” His hands, stroking her in the dark. “It's just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” she said fuzzily, and did.

 

“…I just think if you tried a nice Serena, or maybe a Majorero, you might be pleasantly surprised.”

He had his hands clamped over his ears and was rolling back and forth on the bed, chanting, “La la la la la la la la!”

“I know you can hear me!” Alex shouted, leaning over him. “I'm not saying start with a blue, something really strong. Pick a mild one. It's no worse than Velveeta, and actually quite a bit better.”

Shel cracked one eye open, but didn't remove his hands. “Are you done?”

“Yes, idiot.”

“Because I've put up with a lot, Princess, but there are some things I will not do.”

“
I
gave up insomnia for you.”

“Totally different thing. And actually, I cured your insomnia. And your, uh, sex problem.”

She was amused. “You cured me?”

“All part of my plan. If the handcuffs worked, we'd try that, then move to ties, then me, then nothing.”

“Nothing? You mean masturbation?”

“No,” he replied, not acknowledging her joke. “Like a real couple who love each other and don't need tricks to prove it.”

She was speechless, and swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. “A—a couple in love? But we—I mean, I'm not going to be here forever…”

He said nothing; just looked at her.

“And—and I didn't think—I mean, I thought we were—”

“You let just any guy tie you up, then?” he asked coolly.

“No! You know I don't. You know you're the only man I ever—”

There was a discreet rap at the door. “Come in,” Alex almost snarled, as Shel snatched a blanket to cover his nudity.

Jenny diffidently stepped into the bedroom. “I beg your pardon, Highness. Dr. Rivers. But Prince David is on the phone, and his schedule is very tight today. Will you take the call?”

“Yes. Put him through.”

“Again, my apologies for disturbing you.”

“We're kind of in the middle of something,” Shel warned her. She ignored him, and picked up the phone when it rang.

“Hello?” She could see that Shel, disgusted, had gotten up and was hunting for his clothes. Oh, great. So much for their romantic day together.

“Alex? Hi! How's it going?”

“Everything's fine, David,” she replied, ignoring Shel's glare. “How's Dara? How's Chris?”

“They're fine. Chris keeps showing her your TV appearances and that spread in
US
magazine about you. I think she recognizes you!”

“That's great. What's up?”

“Well, I just wanted to know why nobody's scheduled my trip. Edmund's not here, and my guy doesn't know a thing about it, and Jenny—”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Geneva thing got cancelled,” her brother explained patiently. “Remember? I know Dad told you. So I can come out there and finish up. I mean, hell, the only reason you got stuck with it is because I was tied up with something else.”

“Tied up?”

“Can you hear me okay? Is it a bad connection?”

“It's fine. Geneva was cancelled? He…Dad did mention something about it…” And she assumed he was kidding. He was not. In fact, it appeared he had dropped the entire issue. But why? To see what she would do? Or not do?

“Right. So, when do you want to come back?”

Don't do it.

“I can come back anytime.”

“Yeah? I've got your schedule right here; looks like you've got a free day, you lucky jerk. You want to come back this afternoon? You could be eating at your own table for suppertime.”

You'll be sorry.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then. Have Jenn coordinate with the NDISL people and tell them I'll be out first thing in the morning.”

You're ruining everything. Everything.

“I'll do that, gladly. It'll be good to be back home.”

“I'll bet. Fish out of water there, huh? Not exactly your field. It was great of you to go and take one for the team.”

“I was glad to, but it'll…it'll be good to be back. It's…it's been kind of a disaster.

You idiot.

“Y
ou
coward.
”

Stung, and embarrassed, she cried, “You know I'm not! You know what I did!”

“Oh, sure,” he sneered, “swing a chair and fracture the skull of a bad guy to save your family, great. Even a rabbit will fight if you pin them to the wall. But when it comes to actual hard emotional truth and bravery, you're on the first fucking plane out!”

“My job is done! I have to go back. The crown prince and the king said so.”

“Oh, fuck the crown prince and the king! Like you couldn't stay if you really wanted to.”

“Shel, I wasn't even supposed to be the one to come out here.”

“Well, I'm sure as shit not going to fuck your brother when
he
shows up!” Shel roared.

“Good, because he's taken!”

“Don't you get it, you goddamned idiot?
So are you.
”

“Watch your mouth.”

“So sorry, Princess Idiot.”

“You know,” she said through gritted teeth, “every once in a while, it would be a
little
nice if you were just a tiny bit respectful of my title.”

“Yeah, and a cure for cancer would be nice, too, but it's not in the cards for a while.”

“Shel, it's not just me.”

“Ha!”

“You've never even said—not in so many words…You've been having a good time, too, just like me. Right?” she added tentatively.

“Yeah? You want the words? No problem. I love you. I love you like no one in my life, and I'll never love anyone like I love you again, ever.
I love you.
There.” He crossed his arms over his chest and added with pure contempt, “Now let's watch you break a speed record getting to the door.”

She ground her teeth. Had she ever been so thrilled, terrified, furious, and happy at the same time? She was so dizzy she was afraid she'd vomit. And she'd rather split a tooth than cry in front of him. “You don't even know me.”

“Right.”

“And I don't know you.”

Except that he was the finest, most maddening man in the world. That he whispered her name in the dark and ate all the peas on her plate. That he resented his father and revered his mother. That he hated being the new kid when he was in school. That he thought she was beautiful and smart and sexy. That he wanted to be with her. That he hated not spending the night.

With her. Only with her.

She took a breath. “Are you really telling me you're going to move? Again? You want the happily ever after? You want to uproot, change everything, move to Alaska of all places, where you'll be rich—
Prince
Sheldon—and your son will be a prince, and all your grandchildren?”

He opened his mouth, and she could instantly see he had never thought of it in those terms. He'd been so focused on having her, he'd never considered the fact that he'd have to give up everything to do it.

“I didn't think so,” she said triumphantly, and then started to cry. “Don't you dare!” she shouted when he took a hesitant step forward. “You get your pants on and get out of here!”

“Is that a royal command?” he asked hoarsely, pale as the sheets.

“Take it however you want. Just get out.”

“Fine, Princess. Nice fucking you.”

“Lovemaking!” she yelled as he hopped out the door, struggling to get his right leg into his left pant leg. “It was lovemaking, and don't you ever forget it!”

S
he'd broken the last lamp when the gentle tapping became insistent pounding. “Get lost!” she yelled, kicking one of the delicate side tables into the wall. “No visitors, Jenny, I don't care if it's the new Pope!”

“How about the king of Alaska?” a familiar voice said through the door.

“Not now, Dad!” She booted another table.

“Aw, come on, honey, you're costing me a fortune in there.”

“Take it out of one of my trust funds!”

“Open this door.”

She tried to make her mouth say “go away,” but her training and background were too strong. She could no more ignore an order from her father—or the king—than she could attend a press conference without a shirt.

She trudged to the door and opened it, then waded through the detritus her rage had made and flopped facedown on the bed.

“Jee-zus,” her father whistled, tripping over a broken lamp. “It looks like Guns N' Roses were in here with you.”

“You're dating yourself, Dad. They broke up. It's the way of the world: desertion and despair.”

“What?”

She rolled over so she was no longer mumbling into her pillow. “What can I do for you, my king?”

“Uh…live happily ever after?”

“I was thinking more a short-term project.”

“How about getting something on besides that robe? It's almost noon. You can have lunch with your old man.”

“I've got a plane to catch.”

“Yeah, uh, about that…I guess the boy isn't coming with you?”

“Not hardly.”

“Too bad.”

“Dad. You hated him.”

“No, I admired the shit out of him. But I covered it up real good,” he bragged. He picked up an intact chair and set it beside the bed, then plopped into it. “How many times are you gonna meet someone who likes you—”

“For who I am, not what I have, blah-blah.”

“No, I meant, likes you
despite
who you are.”

“Oh, that's a nice thing to say,” she snapped.

“You want nice? Get Jenny in here, she'll fill you up with it. I'm a truth guy.”

“Says the man who sneaks on fishing boats in disguise.”

“That's because I have a hard time finding people who like me for who I am,” he said bluntly, “and do you get where I'm going with this, or do I haveta get Edmund in here with the crayons?”

“God, not Edmund, too. I couldn't face both of you.”

“In that case, good luck,” her father said quietly, “looking in the mirror.”

“What, Dad, what?” She propped herself up on her elbows. “You're saying I should tell him I love him and whisk him away to Alaska?”

“Well—”

“First of all, he won't go. Second, if he did go, he'd never let his kids be, as he puts it, ‘rich assholes.' And I'll never give up my family duties. Never.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I wouldn't expect you to. And maybe the boy doesn't, either.”

“It was stupid, stupid, stupid. I never meant for this to happen. I should never have—” She closed her mouth.

“Alex, sometimes this stuff…it's beyond your control. But that doesn't make it a bad thing.”

“Dad, beyond my control is the very definition of bad.”

“Come on. Anybody who can brain a traitor and knock him out with one swing can adjust to change. I mean, Jesus. It's not like self-defense and attempted regicide was on the schedule that day,” the king joked.

She stared at him. “It's not funny, Dad.”

“Well. It's a little funny.”

“No.”

“Jeez, kid, is that what this is about? Because you like everything on the schedule, all the time? How'd you get to twenty-three—”

“Twenty-five.”

“—without realizing some stuff will never, ever be planned?”

She opened her mouth, and nothing came out.

“See, that's why I'm the smart one,” he said smugly.

“You are not. It goes me, David, Kathryn, Nicky, Alexander, and you.”

“Like hell! Punks.”

“And things can be planned,” she insisted. “It doesn't have to be chaotic.”

“It's my fault,” the king decided. “It's no way to bring up a kid.”

“Don't be an idiot.”

“Wave and smile and sign this and break the champagne bottle on that, and at eight-oh-two we'll have cheese omelets with the American President, and at nine-oh-seven we'll visit the new elementary school named after your mother…”

“Dad, come on. It's how it is. Your childhood was like that, and so was Grandpa's. You know the upside—we never have to worry about paying the electric bill, never in our lives.”

“Alex, you get that you didn't do anything wrong that day, right?”

“Yes.”

“I mean,
really
get it? Because you were a good girl and a patriot, too, and that coward got what he deserved, and if you hadn't done it, your brother would have.”

“Which one?”

“Either. Listen, Dr. Pohl told me—”

“Nothing, I assume, due to doctor-patient privilege.”

“It was a hypothetical.”

“Oh, hypothetical. My ass.”

“Anyway, she says, even though you didn't have to face any consequences—like being arrested or what-have-you—she says that doesn't mean there weren't any consequences at all.”

“I might have heard something like that,” she admitted. “But how did we get on this topic? You were lecturing me on my love life a minute ago.”

“Sweetie, if you haven't figured out how it's all related, than you're not the smart one. At all.”

“We were talking about how I was stupid to let Shel get away,” she said in a monotone.

“I didn't use the word stupid. And you've got to stop punishing yourself for what happened last year. Look what it's costing you! Insomnia was bad enough, the dreams were bad enough, not being able to let an hour go by without checking on the baby was bad enough.”

“Dad—”

“Now you're running away, and for what? So you can go back to bad dreams and worrying about the next assassination attempt? Bullshitting Dr. Pohl because you know what the problem is, you just can't face it?”

“I can't handle this right now, Dad.” She put a hand over her eyes. She hadn't cried in front of him since the hospital. Twice in one day? Both in front of men she wanted to impress? No no no. “I really can't.”

“Looks like you don't have to. Because you're on a plane, and the boy's staying put. Everything can go on the way it's supposed to. Safe and sane and scheduled.”

“He won't come anyway, Dad. And I'm not exactly in a job I can quit.”

“No,” he allowed, “but did you ask him?”

“He won't.”

“Well, nothing to be done about it, then.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers. He looked deceptively innocent. “That's right,” she said. “Nothing to be done.”

He pulled a piece of dental floss from his pocket and she rolled over, away from the horror. The final, complete horror, the official point of no return: the worst day of the year. Second worst of her life.