Page 33 of Ruthless Prince
Nothing is going to happen tome.
I repeated that mantra five times as I paused and drew in several deep breaths, filling my belly and not my chest, just like Dr. Monroe showed me. Then I started walking again with my head held high. I felt betteralready.
My phone vibrated in my purse as I passed an old brownstone a moment later. I pulled it out to see Simone’s name flashing on the callerID.
“Hey!” she said when I answered. “What’sup?”
“I’m just out at the moment. I went to this little festival thing they held on campus today, and now I’m heading todinner.”
She laughed. “Since when do you go to college stuff that isn’t classes orexams?”
“I’m trying to get out more,” I replied. I said it in a breezy tone, like it was no big deal, but truthfully, tonight’s ventures were part of my anxietytreatment.
After I was released from the hospital and started attending regular sessions with Dr. Monroe a few weeks back, he suggested a form of exposure therapy. I had to force myself to be more sociable and go out more often (this didn’t include the usual political events that I had to attend) even if I was feeling anxious. The idea was that it would help me confront my fears instead of avoiding them, seeing as that avoidance tended to make thingsworse.
I had to admit, it was working pretty wellalready.
Instead of assuming that absolutely everyone at college thought I was a snobby weirdo—and subsequently avoiding them as a result of that assumption—I’d started talking to people in my classes and doing my best to socialize in general. A few people acted like I was some sort of alien due to my status, but for the most part, things had gone surprisingly well. I’d scored some invites to parties, and I had a couple of new acquaintances whom I suspected might actually turn into good friends in thefuture.
Obviously it was still early days, but those results wereencouraging.
As hard as it was to accept that I had a mental condition, I had to come around in the end. Three weeks had passed since I started taking medication and having sessions with Dr. Monroe, and nothing bad had happened. No threatening texts, no mysterious letters, no masked men in my bedroom. Even though the memories of those events were still fresh and vivid in my mind, as if they were unquestionably real, I was now ninety-nine percent certain that it was all a production of my anxiousmind.
That stubborn little one percent was still holding on, but with time, I knew it would slipaway.
“That’s cool. Where are you having dinner? Is it a date?” Simoneasked.
I laughed. “It’s a dinner date with Dad, yeah. We’re going to eat at this little French bistro in Georgetown. It’s only a few blocks away from college, so I’m walking to meet him therenow.”
“Um, excuse me?” Simone sounded scandalized. “You’re just wandering around thestreets?”
I let out an amused snort. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of hooligan walking around with a can of spray-paint.”
“What I meant to say was: is itsafe?”
“My security detail is with me, so it’s fine. I just thought it was a nice night and I should enjoyit.”
She scoffed. “Nice night? Are we on the sameplanet?”
“I mean, itwasnice until a few minutes ago. Are you seeing all thislightning?”
“Yup. I think there’s gonna be a storm soon. You better get your ass to that restaurantpronto.”
“Don’t worry. I’m only five minutesaway.”
“Good.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you still have that sexy Secret Service guy? The blondone?”
I laughed again. “Don’t worry, they can’t hear you. And no, your little crush was reassigned a few weeks ago. Blondie is protecting the VP’s wifenow.”
“Why did hemove?”
“They rotate the agents every few months,” Iexplained.
That was probably a good thing. I felt terrible for the agents on my last security detail, because I’d put them through so much drama. They were probably glad to get away fromme.
“What are the new guyslike?”
I quickly glanced over my shoulder. While the man ahead of me was just a random agent who’d been assigned to me for extra security this evening, the two agents behind me were part of my new regular detail. Malcolm and Adam. Both were tall and burly with the most serious facial expressions I’d everseen.
