Defying the Prince

‘You thought you could help with the concert? How?’

She discovered that amusement could be more hurtful than biting sarcasm. ‘Don’t say it like that. Of course I’m capable of helping. I know about music. I know a lot about music.’

‘There’s not much that surprises me, but I confess I am surprised.’

‘Me too! How could you be so arrogant as to assume I’d want to marry you? God, what is wrong with you? I don’t even know you! And you’d be totally wrong for me. I could never be with someone who doesn’t want to swim in a fountain.’ She was horribly flustered and that feeling didn’t fade as she watched his spectacular eyes narrow.

‘It’s not arrogance. It’s experience. Believe me when I tell you that becoming a princess is the pinnacle of aspiration for many women.’

‘Well, I don’t know exactly what a pinnacle of aspiration is but it sounds jolly uncomfortable and I don’t want to go anywhere near it.’ Her hands shaking, Izzy stooped and pulled on her wedges. ‘I can’t believe you thought you were my goal. That’s sick.’

‘Izzy—’

‘That would mean I’d targeted a total stranger for sex. There’s a name for that.’

‘Izzy!’

‘What?’ Powered by an attack of righteous indignation, Izzy stood straight, remembering that maintaining good posture was another of her medium-term goals. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. You ordered me to come here and I’m here. You told me to get out of the fountain and I did, even though I was actually having a really great time. So far I have obeyed your every command.’ She wanted to stalk out but the ambition in her just wouldn’t allow her to relinquish the opportunity. ‘I could help backstage. I’ll do anything. I’ll scrub the stage. I’ll clean the toilets. I’m not afraid of hard work. I just want to see what happens at a huge live event like that. Please.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back, vowing to give money to charity and never swear again if he let her help.

He looked at her for a long moment and then shook his head. ‘I don’t need you causing trouble backstage.’

So that was that.

His phone rang and he glanced at her for a moment, as if deciding whether she could be trusted not to get into trouble while he answered it. ‘Wait there …’ His eyes still on her face, he took the call. ‘… Yes, I’ve listened to it. It’s not the right sound…. I have no idea but they have forty-eight hours to come up with something else….’

Eavesdropping madly, Izzy wondered what wasn’t ‘the right sound.’ Needing to look at something other than him, her eyes wandered around his office and she saw a series of black-and-white photographs of various artists, all legends in the music industry. Musicians she’d grown up admiring. People he knew personally.

She wondered if they had fought the same uphill battle to be heard.

Had people told them to give up and get a proper job?

Had

they been ridiculed and ignored?

When he finally put the phone down she gestured to the photographs. ‘You have friends in high places.’

‘Unfortunately none of them seem to be able to come up with the right song for the charity single.’

She’d intended to get out of his office as fast as possible, but suddenly her feet were glued to the floor. ‘What sort of song are you looking for?’ The words tumbled out from her mouth and she could see from his exasperated expression that she’d sounded like a desperate, breathless groupie. ‘It’s just that I could help you with that.’

His expression said everything she needed to know about his opinion of her musical talent. ‘You just don’t give up, do you?’

‘No, I don’t. And if I were a man, people would praise my tenacity, but ambition isn’t seen as an attractive trait in a woman for some reason.’ Reeling from yet another blow to her confidence, Izzy stalked towards the door. ‘Forget it. I’ll see myself out.’

‘Do not leave this room when we’re talking. And this has nothing to do with your gender. You cannot deny that your last record bombed.’

First a blow then a punch. For a moment Izzy couldn’t breathe. ‘No, I can’t deny that. Thanks for reminding me, because if someone doesn’t throw that at me occasionally I get so full of myself I can’t fit my enormous ego through the door. You’re absolutely right. It bombed. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it was a spectacular failure. And now we’ve finally agreed on something, I’ll leave you to get back to work.’

‘I am trying to find a record that will be a huge commercial success.’

‘And what would someone like me know about choosing a commercial success, is that what you’re saying?’ The humiliation and sheer sense of failure never left her, but it also drove her forward. Part of her wanted to tell him that it hadn’t actually been her record but what was the point of that? She’d sung it, hadn’t she? People didn’t listen to a song and think ‘Well, she obviously didn’t write that so it isn’t her fault it sucks.’ They either liked a song or they didn’t. As far as they were concerned it was her song. They didn’t think about where the song came from.

And that record had taught her the second most important lesson of her life….

That if her chance ever came again, she’d sing nothing she hadn’t written herself and nothing that she didn’t love.

If she bombed again then she’d only have herself to blame.