So, she’s got a thing for Beckham, has she?
And if that’s a small stab of jealousy I feel, I’m not going to give it the time of day.
Ronan's impassive face tightens. “Ms. Fontaine, while we appreciate innovative thinking, the dignity inherent in royal representation must be considered.”
Fabiana wastes no time in pouncing on his words. “My point exactly! Isn’t it time to try something new? Something fresh? And besides, dignity doesn't trend.”
I find myself leaning forward despite my best intentions. "What exactly are you proposing, Ms. Fontaine?"
She turns those impossibly green eyes on me once more and I will my belly not to repeat its preposterous flip.
Fail.
Geez.
“I'm proposing we meet your audience where they actually are, sir. YouTube vlogs, Instagram reels, TikTok videos. Footage that shows who you really are instead of the carefully curated version your PR team has been peddling for generations.”
Ronan scoffs.“You’re suggesting His Royal Highness becomes a social media influencer?” His lip curls in disgust as though Fabiana has just suggested we use eBay to auction off the crown jewels.
“No. I want to turn him into a relatable human being,” Fabiana replies with a smile that could cut glass.
Pippa nods enthusiastically. She’s drunk Fabiana’s Kool-Aid and is coming back for a refill. “The engagement rates on authentic content are absolutely amazing compared with traditional media. Gen Z in particular responds to unfiltered content.”
“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.”
