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She tilts her head, exposing a long, ballerina-worthy neck. “You wish to honor his memory.”
“Oh, he’s still alive, ninety years old and bossing everyone around!” I peel my gaze away from her neck. “But, essentially, yes. It’s about continuing what he started.”
The full truth of the matter is that it was my no-good father who was supposed to take care of Royal Riviera, launched by Grandpa and his older brother, late Reigning Prince Fredric. Given Father’s ineptitude for the diplomatic service, and his love for the cinema, this was going to be his oeuvre, his contribution to the glory of the de Valois family and to the secret soft power of Mount Evor. Above all, running the studio and producing movies was going to give him purpose, which was, in turn, going to help him fight his many addictions.
Long story short, none of that happened. Father floundered and failed as he always does. He ruined the studio to the dismay of Grandpa, to the schadenfreude of Mother and to the indifference of Aunt Marie-Louise.
Fortunately, my aunt’s children Celeste and Jonas share my desire to save our grandfather’s studio. Between three cousins, we hatched a plan. We injected money into the studio and hired an artistic director who commissioned an original script. The short-term goal is to produce a box office success—the first one for Royal Riviera in decades.
“Are you going to be involved in the day-to-day management?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’ll have to return to my diplomatic duties. But my cousin Jonas just moved to Nice to oversee this project. He’ll be very hands-on.”
“Fantastic,” she says, her voice dull. “Where is he now?”
“Securing the male lead.”
“Who?”
“It’s confidential at the moment, but Jonas will be in touch with you the moment the deal is done.”
“I can’t wait.” Her tone is still flat.
Panicking, I add quickly, “I plan to make frequent trips down here, and be as present as my schedule permits. This project means a lot to me.”
She seems to cheer up.
I raise my glass. “To our success!”
Magdalena touches her glass to mine, making intense eye contact. “To us!”
She hasn’t signed anything yet, I remind myself.
Her agent told me to be ready to discuss the offer we’d made, after Magdalena meets me and visits the studio. I am ready. There’s some room to maneuver on the financial and other aspects. But what seems to happen at present is that my person may be an added point of negotiation, the bonus that could sway Magdalena.
Does that bother me?Hell, no!
I don’t have time to pursue women. For years now, my dating strategy has been to do nothing until a hot chick propositions me, respond favorably, have fun, get bored, and move on. It’s a great strategy, and I intend to stick to it for another decade until I’m forty. At that point I’ll marry someone suitable, make the next duke or duchess, and ensure that the Duchy of Arrago doesn’t revert to the Crown.
“Let’s talk about my part,” she says, setting her glass down. “So far I’ve only seen the pitch. What about the full script?”
“It’s being finalized as we speak.”
“Have you read it?”
“Not yet,” I admit. “But Jonas and Celeste have seen the first draft, and they’re raving about it.”
She scoots closer. “I’ll be honest. It’s between you and two other producers right now, both with more experience and a few hits under their belt.”
“There’s room for negotiation.”
“Good. My agent will handle that.” She bats her eyelashes. “What about the perks?”
I’d better be certain of her meaning. “Can you be more specific?”
“I’m sure you already have something in mind,” she says. “You’re a man of action, aren’t you?”
Was that a double entendre?Let’s find out.
