Prince Harry Ih.sI

63

If he's outside our damn hotel room then it must be worst then I thought.

I leave our hotel room; a bit worried Gisele will be unconscious when we return and even more worried for what the doctor has to say.

I search the entire floor, looking past the many security men that are guarding the outside of my room.

I'm told that the doctor is waiting by the elevator.

Hell.

As I reach the elevator I notice Doc tapping his right foot, nervously. What on earth could be wrong with her?

"Would it be alright if we went in the elevator? Take a ride?" The doctor smiles, trying to lighten up the mood.

I turn to the closest guard, whispering in his ear that the Doc and I will need our privacy so we'll be talking on the elevator.

"Should I send guards to each floor, just in case he tries something?" My guard whispers back to me.

I force myself to smirk, patting the guard's back. "He won't try anything." I say loud enough for the doctor to hear too.

We enter the elevator, the doctor pressing the top floor button.

He wastes no time. "Prince Harry, you called me here today because you said your wife was feeling ill. You said she was throwing up and was fairly nauseated..."

"I did."

"You also mentioned she was pregnant..."

"I did." Fuck.

"Well, I came here expecting this to be a possible side effect to her pregnancy but now that I'm here I see that it's much... different."

"Worst." I state, knowing damn well that's what he meant. I hate doctors, always had. "Tell it like it is."

"Her symptoms consist of nausea, vomiting, a fever, cramps... she's dehydrated and weak-"

"I know all that." I say to him. The elevator doors open up and reveal a group of faces. I put my hand up at the group of people at this floor, slightly waving and giving them a smile. "Take the stairs." I politely tell them as I press the floor one button.

"Keep going."

"I believe Princess Gisele maybe be experiencing symptoms of... Salmonella. This usually lasts between five days to a week. She'll need to be-"

"What is that?" I ask. I crack my knuckles and start to pace back and forth on the elevator.

"Is she going to be okay? Is our kid going to be okay?" I ask, facing the doctor.

"Listen Chris," I say to him, ignoring the fact that he has a doctorate degree and is a professional. "You need to explain to me as simple as you can, what's wrong with her and what we can do to get her better."

The doctor scratches his forehead, either nervous or frightened.

"'I've taken her temperature, her blood pressure and pulse. The next thing I suggest we do is take some samples from her. We'll need to run them at my lab for a diagnosis."

"Tell me what it is first." I ask, obviously impatient and annoyed.

"I believe Princess Gisele has consumed something during her meal today, that contained Salmonella bacteria. You said she ate meat and chicken... this food could have been contaminated and-"

"There's no way. Impossible. I take that girl to the best restaurants, I know the chiefs personally. You're telling me they gave her some type of food that basically... poisoned her! This Salmonella garbage? That's some bullshit, Chris!"