She looked the woman square in the eye and didn’t miss a beat. “Work in their family’s businesses. To a teenager, a job is nothing more than an idea. The program will give them a glimpse into the actual work, so they can determine if it’s right for them. It will also provide references and potential job leads—”

“Princess, have you and Marcel set a wedding date?”

“We have—” Marcel began.

This time, she was the one to reach for his wrist. She gave it a hard squeeze. Don’t you dare.

“We’ll hold a press conference soon,” Rosalina said. “And answer all your questions then. Tonight, we’re celebrating the six-hundred-year history of our country. Let’s all raise a glass of champagne together.”

With a hand at the small of her back, Marcel tried to move her deeper into the ballroom, but she jerked away from him.

“Rosalina.” His voice held warning.

Yes, she knew the attention was on her. And the whole point was to present the image of a happy couple. For God’s sake, I’m doing the best I can. But it was her sister’s look of alarm from a few feet away that told her she wasn’t doing a convincing job. Get me out of here, she mouthed. Immediately, Genevieve, with her unusual gown and pink-streaked hair, handed her champagne glass to her date and pushed her way through the crowd.

“Please excuse me,” her sister said. “Mama would like to speak with us.”

Clutching her hand, her sister led her out the ballroom doors, where they bumped into their parents.

“Well done, Rosalina,” her father said.

“That was a lovely speech.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her, obviously picking up on her agitation. She abruptly turned, forcing the three of them to follow her into the parlor. She nodded to Genevieve to close the door. “You’ve got the devil in your eyes, Rosalina. You must get yourself under control.”

“And this is why she’s in Calamity this summer,” Genevieve said. “Instead of pretending to be happily engaged to that asshole.”

Her mother cut her a glance, but Genevieve didn’t back down.

Exasperated, Rosalina said, “They addressed all their questions to Marcel, as though he’s leading this project. As if the program were his idea. And do you know what they asked me? Who designed my dress.”

Her father reached out and cupped the back of her head. “That’s the way of things—not just in St. Christophe, but in the world, and you know that. Now, listen to me, in my role as Head of State, I am bombarded every day by absurd issues and affronts that make me want to go running, screaming into the dead of night. But, as a leader, I don’t have the time nor the energy to waste on petty issues. I must stay focused on the good work we’re doing.”