CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

VIVIENNE

It only takes me a few minutes to arrive at Anne’s office. I hover outside the ajar doorway, steeling myself for another confrontation. I’m about to push the door open when I hear voices.

“How bad was it?” my mother asks.

“Unsalvageable,” Anne’s voice replies, followed by a long sigh. “There’s no way they can do the interview together. Even separately, it’s going to be a challenge.”

“Are you certain?” My father joins the conversation. “They both seem committed to doing the interview and extinguishing the story.”

“Their commitment to it is not the problem,” Anne answers. “It’s the two of them together. Watch the video of them from our session. If we air anything similar to that on national television, this story will never go away. Their body language, the way they look at each other, talk about each other. I lost track of the number of times they touched. You both must have noticed the way they interact. You’ve spent time with them. You can’t fake chemistry like that, and you can’t hide it, either.”

“It is…interesting,” my mother replies, sounding as though there’s a different word she’d prefer to use. “I hoped it would come across differently in an interview setting.”

“There was no way of knowing until we saw them together in person,” Anne replies. “Although, based on their rapport, I’m guessing the princess underplayed their past relationship pretty drastically when we first discussed it. We’re far beyond that now, though. Bottom line: we cannot air a joint interview with Jace Dawson. The two of them answering live questions together will make our current publicity problems look like a cakewalk.”

“But we’ve already announced a joint interview,” my father responds. “Won’t changing that now raise questions?”

“Probably,” Anne admits. “But I don’t see any other alternatives. I’m receiving reports the American media is paying six figures for copies of the interview. We can’t risk that type of widespread coverage of the princess exchanging inside jokes and holding hands under the table with someone other than Charles if we want anyone to believe their impending marriage is the least bit genuine.”

“You’re certain more preparation won’t solve things?” my mother asks.

“Your Highness, with all due respect—I’m very good at my job. But even I cannot make two people in love appear as if they’re not. That’s the situation we’re dealing with here. I’ll have my team start working on a statement about the separate interviews immediately.”

There’s a long stretch of silence.

I school my expression before knocking on the door and pushing it open. Anne’s sitting at her desk, with my mother across from her. My father’s standing by the window.

“You asked to see me?” I try to look surprised by the sight of my parents.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Anne states. “I wanted to inform you that I’ve decided against doing the joint interview, and that we should have you and Mr. Dawson answer questions from the media separately instead.”

“Why is that?” I ask, hoping I look convincingly perplexed. I’m curious about how honest Anne will be.