CHAPTER 16
Betty
I'd been stress-bakingfor three hours, which was how I knew I was handling the situation maturely and not at all like someone who wanted to set things on fire.
"Your Highness," Chef Marcello said carefully, surveying the counter covered in perfectly formed croissants, "we have enough pastries to feed the entire diplomatic corps."
"Good.Maybe if I feed them enough butter, they'll stop reading tabloids about my hot tub habits."
"The staff doesn't believe those stories."
"The staff has access to palace gossip, not international media."I rolled out another sheet of dough with more force than necessary."By tomorrow morning, half of Europe will think I'm some kind of party girl who abandoned her devoted boyfriend for a crown."
"And the other half will think Prince Archibald is an idiot for believing in tabloid nonsense."Petra appeared in the doorway with a cup of coffee and a sympathetic expression.She'd been with me since Valdoria, one of the few constants in a life that kept shifting under my feet."Which, for the record, he is."
"He's not an idiot.He's just," I stopped, unable to finish the sentence in a way that didn't make me want to throw things.
"Jealous?"Petra suggested.
"Judgmental."
"Both can be true."She set the coffee in front of me."Drink.You look like you need it more than I do."
I took a sip and nearly groaned.Someone had made it exactly how I liked it, strong enough to stand up on its own, with just enough cream to take the edge off."Who made this?"
"Captain Steiner.She said you taught her the proper technique last week."
The fact that my security detail was making me comfort coffee would have been funny if I wasn't so miserable."Tell her thank you."
"Tell her yourself.She's coordinating security for tonight's charity reception."
I'd forgotten about the reception.Of course there was a reception.There was always a reception, or a dinner, or some other event that required me to smile and curtsy and pretend my life wasn't actively imploding.
"Can I skip it?"
"Not unless you want to give the media more ammunition."Petra pulled up a chair."The optics of you hiding after the scandal breaks would be worse than facing it head-on."
"I hate optics."
"Everyone hates optics.But you're royal now, so optics are your life."
Chef Marcello wiped flour from the counter with the kind of deliberate movements that suggested he was trying not to comment on the situation.He failed."The Prince was in here earlier looking for you."
My hands stilled on the rolling pin."What did he want?"
"He didn't say.Just asked if I'd seen you, looked disappointed when I said you hadn't been down yet, and left."
"Well, he can stay disappointed."
