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“So, Ms. Taylor, what’s it like moving away from New York and becoming a Queen? And it seems like it happened over night.”
I smile curtly and straighten my posture. I look over at David, who’s waiting for me to answer, and I turn back to the camera.
“Oh, it’s a dream come true, really. What little girl doesn’t dream of becoming a Princess? I guess I just missed a step and became Queen,” I giggle, forcing humor. That’s the one thing people love the most, the most relatable trait—humor.
“And David has been a great teacher, gradually getting me acclimated to his world.” I look up at him again, and he smiles at me.
This is going perfectly. All the studying, memorizing…the glances, the touches usually being done by royal couples when they get interviewed, is paying off.
“As we spend more time together, I discover more things about her. And I fall more in love with every passing day.” David chimes in, while still staring at me.
I feel glued to his stare, and I almost find myself believing in his words. Love? Whoa.
So far, we’ve been ignoring the event that got us here in the first place. But, I’d say, it worked out for the better.
I jerk my head back to the reporter, a little startled over my train of thought. It’s never smart to go down that path.
“You’re a successful PR consultant in New York, is that correct, Ms. Taylor?”
I nod, curious as to where he’s going with this question.
“So, how does a successful businesswoman see herself fitting into the monarchy?”
I knew this would come up, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. There hasn’t been a successful business woman turned Queen before, so this is something I’ll have to come up with on my own.
“The pressures and duties are similar, in some ways. Managing people, making sure day-to-day operations are going smoothly, and hoping that everything you put into place goes as it should.”
David interrupts, and squeezes my hand. “Vivienne will have no problem fitting in. She’s already doing an amazing job at the Manor, and everyone seems to love her. If there’s anyone in the world who can handle the pressure of being Queen, it’s this woman right here.”
“Thanks, David.” I chuckle, playing modest.
“It’s the truth, love.” He smiles at me, and, for a second, I forget that the cameras are on us.
He makes me feel like we’re in our own little bubble, and this fake engagement is actually real.
“You two are really meant for each other, aren’t you?” The reporter teases.
“Definitely,” we say in unison, and then look at each other in shock. We both break out in laughter at our unplanned outburst.
Damn, this couldn’t go any better if I scripted the whole thing myself. Have I said that I’m impressed with him yet? Because I can’t get over how fucking good he is.
Like I said, I almost believe this charade. I have to make sure that I get to thank him for a job well done.
We continue to answer the usual questions for this kind of interview—questions regarding my life here, our life together, and the duties that will be take upon after we officially become a royal couple.
Time goes by quickly when you’re having fun, I suppose. Because, before I knew it, the reporter starts to wrap up the interview.
He ends with a brief outro, though: “Who would’ve thought a woman from across the pond can make the once debaucherous, Prince David, transform into a doting King? Is this a new man, one more suited for his place on the throne? Time will tell, but what we know for sure is that we’ll have fun watching the King and Queen, who are obviously in love with each other.”
I know this is just pretend, that I made him do this. A small sliver inside me, however, hopes that what he said comes true.
But, for now, I have another job to do, and it puts that small part of me to shame.
