We all walk over toward the line of four black SUVs parked alongside the hangar to watch as my father’s plane lands. Charles and his mother Margaret climb into one of the cars to escape the oppressive heat.

“I can’t stay at their house,” I whisper to my mother.

She laughs in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Of course you can. They’re some of our oldest friends, and you’ll likely marry their son.”

“No, I can’t.” The alarm building inside me fills my voice with urgency.

“Vivienne.” My mother’s voice is sharp, leaving no room for argument. “I don’t know what has been going on with you lately, but it ends now. I won’t have you embarrass us, especially in front of the Vanderbilts. Do you understand me?”

I refuse to wither under her harsh look. Desperation doesn’t let me. “I will get on that plane and fly back home right now.”

“Vivienne, you’re being ridiculous, not to mention extremely rude. They invited us here as their guests. And your father took the time to fly us all the way here just to make you happy.”

Lionel is the only Vanderbilt who hasn’t climbed into one of the cars yet, and I see him watching our whispered argument closely out of the corner of my eye.

My father exits his plane and walks over to us, followed by another six agents. “Is something wrong?” he asks, looking between our two tense faces.

“Vivienne is refusing to stay at the Vanderbilts’ house here for some reason,” my mother informs him. “Maybe she’ll listen to reason if it’s coming from you.”

The confused and disappointed look on my father’s face guts me, but I can’t fathom the thought of driving up the beach house’s tree-lined driveway. I know the second I see that house again I’ll lose it, which will be even harder to explain.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” I tell him. “I need to stay someplace else.” My words are final. I can’t yield. Not about this.

My father holds my anguished gaze for a long moment, testing my resolve. Then he turns and beckons Richard forward. As per usual, he’s just a couple feet behind my father.

“Richard, you’ll need to arrange new accommodations for us. Whatever you think is most appropriate. Make certain you’re discreet. And tell the Vanderbilts to go ahead, that the Princess isn’t feeling well.”

Richard nods and turns back toward another agent. They begin talking intently. My mother huffs in disbelief, but I know she won’t make a scene now that my father has decided.

“Thank you, Papa.” My voice is filled with gratitude.

He nods once, studying my distressed expression a little longer before turning to speak with Richard again.

We end up staying at a beach house not far from the Vanderbilts’. I recognize the upscale neighborhood as we drive through it. I don’t know who the house belongs to, and I don’t ask. I spend the remainder of the afternoon in my bedroom and fake a stomachache when my parents ask me to come with them to a French restaurant for dinner.