Then there’s always your wedding to think of. I don’t want such a happy occasion to be marred by foolishness from my past. So I think it’s best that, as soon as my legal entanglements are cleared up, I return to Genovia.
As for the other topic we discussed, on that I cannot budge. It’s the height of fiscal foolishness for you not to obtain a prenuptial agreement. You are the heiress to one of the largest fortunes in Europe, and it makes no sense for you to enter a marriage without some legal protection. Please reconsider.
Truthfully, Mia, I don’t think I’m the type to travel without following a map.
Sincerely,
Your father
Artur Christoff Phillipe Gérard Grimaldi Renaldo
Prince of Genovia
I can tell he means it, too, because he’s used all his names in the right order.
He’s also taken all the leftover cheesy bread with him.
Foolishness from my past? That’s how he’s chosen to refer to his own progeny?
Nice.
Well, if he thinks he’s going to intimidate me into backing down about Olivia—and the prenup—he’s wrong. I’m not giving up. I’m going to have a relationship with my little sister, and like Michael said about marrying me, it’s going to happen sooner rather than later.
Apparently not at this precise moment, however, because the deputy prime minister wants a conference call, and then after that—according to my itinerary, anyway—I have my first wedding-gown fitting.
Seriously. This is my life, as if things weren’t bad enough. Last night I dreamed that Bruce Willis took me to the ballet, and when, during intermission, he turned to ask me what I thought of the performance, I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I dreamed I went to the ballet naked with Bruce Willis.
In a way I almost wish RoyalRabbleRouser would try something—just a very minor assassination attempt (to get it over with so he could be arrested already; one that only slightly wounded me and of course didn’t hurt anyone else)—so I’d have to be hospitalized for a little while and not allowed any visitors. Then I could drink Sprite and watch the Food Network for a day or two and have total peace and quiet.
But I realize this is hardly a healthy fantasy.
Although certain reality stars seem to check themselves into the hospital quite a bit for “exhaustion.” An assassination attempt would be a legitimate excuse, at least.
CHAPTER 45
10:15 a.m., Wednesday, May 6
In the HELV on the way to Sebastiano’s
Rate the Royals Rating: 7
Just had the most disturbing conversation with Suzanne Dupris, the Genovian deputy prime minister (who said she’s been trying to reach Dad, but he won’t return her calls. Honestly! Is Dad so scared of women he can’t even return their business calls?).
Apparently they’ve run out of camp beds (and “sanitation stations,” which is the polite word for portable toilets) at the Port of Princess Clarisse for all the Qalifi refugees who’ve fled there.
Worse, several of the refugees’ TB tests have come back positive.
They’re being treated in the hospital, and are in good condition, but Cousin Ivan has lost no time using this as ammunition in his campaign. He is now declaring that Diversity = Disease.
Really! This is his new campaign slogan!
And some of our citizens seem to believe it, not understanding the basic facts that what actually causes disease is bacteria, or, put more plainly, overcrowding, poverty, lack of clean drinking water, and idiots like Cousin Ivan.
So Madame Dupris wants to discuss other “options” for dealing with the refugee crisis.
Meanwhile, Cousin Ivan has threatened to ask Parliament to raise Genovia’s “security threat level” to high, saying that the only reason the refugees want to come to Genovia at all is that they wish to attack us “with their germs.” He wants to ask Parliament to allow the Genovian Navy to use “aggressive military maneuvers to blow the incoming refugee boats out of the water.”
“Perhaps we should use the Genovian Navy’s aggressive military maneuvers to blow my cousin Ivan out of the water,” I said to Madame Dupris.
“I would love that,” she said with a sigh. “Perhaps they could also use it on the mega–cruise ships he wants to let in, too.”
If only.
I promised her I would find my dad, but that even if I couldn’t, I would get back to her with an answer by the end of the day (Genovian time). But that first—embarrassingly—I had to go try on wedding gowns.
“Ah,” she said. “Comme c’est romantique!”
Of course she’s never tried on wedding gowns with my grandmother in the room. There is nothing “romantique” about that.
CHAPTER 46
10:45 a.m., Wednesday, May 6
Dressing Room, Sebastiano’s Design Studio
Rate the Royals Rating: 7
Well, Tina got her wish. I did not get mine—of having Vera Wang as my wedding-gown designer—but I suppose I got the next best thing: my cousin Sebastiano. (No. This is not the next best thing. It is not even close. But Sebastiano is Genovian, and also family, and also free, so he is what I get.)
Tina’s here—along with Shameeka, Ling Su, Lana, Trisha, and my mom—to watch as I try on wedding gowns, and also to have their measurements taken for bridesmaid gowns, which Sebastiano will also be designing.
Apparently, this decision was unilaterally made by Grandmère. She had her assistant, Rolanda, send out invitations to all the women I mentioned on my list of potential bridesmaids, along with my mother. Only Perin did not accept, saying she could not attend, as she had to work—this was very smart of her. Lilly said she was going to be late (I shudder to think what that means).