Chapter 6 #2
“Unfiltered,” I repeat, tasting the word like it might be poisonous. “Define unfiltered for you and Gen Z, Pippa?” I ask, sounding like I don’t belong to my own generation.
Fabiana takes the opportunity to dive in. “Unfiltered means showing you doing normal, everyday things. Like walking your new puppy, for instance.” She gives me a meaningful smile, and I tighten my jaw.
“I’m not sure my doing 'normal things' is what the Ledonian people want to see,” I reply.
“Oh, but they are, including imperfect moments. People connect with vulnerability, with humor, not with perfection,” Fabiana says.
“Totally,” Pippa agrees.
Ronan looks like he's developing a splitting headache. "Ms. Fontaine, certain royal standards must be maintained. We cannot simply abandon decades of protocol so you can make TikTok videos of His Royal Highness brushing his teeth.”
Fabiana leans back in her chair, her fingers steepled.
“I hate to tell you this, Mr. Clementine, but protocol isn't serving the royal family anymore, particularly Prince Maximilien.
If you want to change his public perception, you need to deliver content where the people are.
And that's not sitting on their sofas in front of a TV.
It's on their phones. It's on their tablets. And it's short, bite-sized content that’s both fun and real.”
“I've got some stats on royal approval ratings among the younger generations,” Pippa says, tapping on her tablet.
Ronan waves her comment away. “That won't be necessary, Ms. Chen.”
“No, Ronan. Let’s hear her out,” I say.
“They don't paint a positive picture, I’m afraid.
Ratings were super high back when Prince Alexander and Princesses Sofia and Amelia were getting married and having their first babies, but now that everyone's more focused on Prince Maximilien—” Pippa trails off, and a sinking sensation claims my chest.
Fabiana leans forward, placing her hands palm down on the shiny mahogany table. “Look. You brought me into this project for a reason. My approach to this is to be transparent with the content we share. If I'm not the right person, tell me now and I will walk away.”
The room falls into a tense silence. This could be my opportunity to be rid of this woman I'm beginning to find more interesting than I should. This woman who’s been determined to report on every poor choice I've ever made as though it's a national sport.
But as tempting as it is to see the back of her, something tells me she’ll deliver exactly what she promises, and as long as I play along and keep my distance, she’ll be more help than hindrance.
“What about things I don't want to share, like private conversations? Or my bathroom habits?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m quite sure the public would want to see you in a shower cap,” Fabiana quips, and traitor that she’s become, Pippa giggles.
“Ms. Fontaine,” Ronan warns.
“All right,” she concedes, with a clear twinkle in her eye. “No shower cap footage.”
“Or private conversations,” I add.
“Or private conversations,” she agrees, and it feels like a victory, no matter how small.
“We could work it out as we go,” Fabiana replies.
She means argue it out as we go.
Ronan says, “I suggest we outline some specific ideas. That way we can get a sense of what this might look like in practice.”
Fabiana's eyes light up, and she swipes to another screen on her tablet. “One step ahead of you, Mr. Clementine. I’ve got ‘A Day in the Life,’ including behind-the-scenes context. 'Unexpected Skills’, which would showcase the prince’s talents or interests the public isn’t aware of.
Things like whether he can juggle or hold a tune. ”
I raise an eyebrow. “Juggle?”
“Can you?” she asks.
“Of course I can.”
“Great! Are you any good at karaoke?” she asks, and once again, Pippa lets out a giggle she immediately tries to style out as a cough.
“I’m terrible,” I reply.
“That’s definitely going on the list then,” she says as she taps at her tablet.
“Hasn’t the country already seen my, shall we say, playful side?” I say.
“They love it! Man-child Max is still trending,” she says.
“Exactly.”
“Lean into your strengths.”
“Being a man-child is my strength?” I question.
“Clearly,” she replies.
Pippa claps her hands together, breaking the mounting tension between Fabiana and me. “This is going to be totally amazing! When can we start filming?”
“What you're describing requires a considerable amount of trust on my behalf, Ms. Fontaine,” I point out.
“Yes,” she agrees without a moment’s hesitation. “Trust works both ways. I'm trusting you to be genuine, and you're trusting me to represent that genuineness fairly.”
“Fairness hasn’t exactly been in your toolbox when it comes to me,” I say, and yes, I sound like a child, stamping my foot and going red in the face when my siblings got more dessert than me.
She shrugs, the smile on her irritatingly gorgeous face not faltering for a moment. “All I can do is give you my word that I will represent you as you are.”
Ronan and I share a look. There’s no point in looking at Pippa. She’s already signed up to be the president of the Fabiana Fontaine fan club.
“What do you think, sir?” Ronan asks.
I tighten my jaw. Not only does this woman seem to be impervious to my charms, but she actively dislikes me. “As long as I get to see the posts and articles before they’re published.”
She nods.
“In that case, we have a deal,” I say.
“Good, good,” Ronan says. “Now, let’s discuss your itinerary. The prince is due at his youth outdoor leadership program at Belladonna Palace this week.”
“Belladonna Palace.” Fabiana repeats, her professional mask slipping.
Huh. Interesting. I wonder why?
“The summer palace,” I say, not knowing what’s discomfited her—but enjoying it, nonetheless.
It’s the little things.
“Is there a problem?” Ronan asks.
“No problem,” she replies smoothly.
Ronan closes his compendium over. “That settles it, then. The Palace will make arrangements for you to accompany His Royal Highness to the north. In the meantime, let’s begin this project here at the palace.
You can shadow His Royal Highness for the next couple of days, attend the state dinner, and then leave for the north. ”
As the meeting breaks up and everyone files out, I remain seated, watching Fabiana pack up her tablet with brisk efficiency. Pippa fawns over Fabiana as Ronan nods his farewell, and then it’s just her and me and suddenly the conference room seems too quiet, too intimate.
"See you later for our first official filming, sir," she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Looking forward to it," I lie.
She pauses at the door. " I meant what I said about representing you fairly."
I hold her gaze. “Thank you.”
She disappears from the room, and I let out a heavy breath.
I’m not the least happy about it, but the fact of the matter is I'm attracted to Fabiana, and not just physically. She challenges me. She isn’t afraid to stand up to me. She’s razor-sharp. She doesn’t react the way most women do, all simpering and blushing, hanging on my every word.
This could be a disaster in the making. A month of serious levels of proximity with someone who isn't impressed by me.
I need to keep my head. I need professional distance. That's what I have to maintain with her, even if something tells me Fabiana Fontaine could turn out to be the most dangerous thing that's happened to me in a long, long time.