Royal Bitch

You know who I am. Tell me if I'm serious.

"Start by doing what is necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible." - Francis of Assisi

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Chapter 21

Fiore stood behind one way glass watching the candidates. They'd been left waiting for nearly twenty minutes now. Several were fidgeting and slouching. Fiore had a secretary pull one into a side room. The moment she entered Fiore watched as postures straightened and hands stilled. Fiore watched the other candidates as one was led off into the side room. She saw some whispering and consulting one another. After another long moment she went to see the first candidate. Fiore was wearing a black pant suit with a scarlet silk shirt underneath. Her hair was in an elegant chignon up and away from her face.

She looked fierce and she knew it. She sat down and glanced over the candidate's file. She hadn't even looked at him yet. She read over his credentials and pursed her lips.

"Do the you know who I am?" Fiore asked, still not looking at the young man.

"Of course. You are Lady Fiore."

"That is my name. Who am I?" Fiore asked again, her tone bored. This time looking up. Her face was schooled into a no-nonsense, serious expression.

"You're a close friend of the royal family?"

"Is that a question?" Fiore asked, her tone not amused and arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"N-no. That's who you are."

"If you are considered for this position your words are everything. Whether you know the answer or not, you must sound confident. If His Majesty asks you a question are you going to stumble over yourself and vomit words all over his desk?"

"N-no! Of course not!"

"You're stuttering over your words with me. I am just Fiore. I'm not five hundred reporters in a press conference. I'm not a dozen paparazzi chasing you out of a restaurant. How can you possibly stand up to them, heaven forbid if the King should call you in for your performance. Have you ever seen King Henry angry?"

He shook his head.

"I pray you never do. It's a terrifying experience. Honestly, given the intestinal fortitude you've shown so far, I'd wager you'd wet yourself."

"I can handle it."

"You have not been asked a question!" Fiore roared. "If I do not ask you a question I am not inviting you to speak! Do you understand?"

"Yes." He muttered meekly, his head down, now avoiding eye contact. He was too easily intimidated. Alex would learn how to walk all over him.

"You're not suited for how harsh of a job this is. You need someone less . . . well more mild mannered than this. You may leave."

"But you haven't even asked what qualifies me."

"I've already decided you aren't qualified. Get out before I lose my patience."

"This is so unfair."

"Get over it. Now get out." Fiore warned. She watched him scurry out and she shook her head.

The secretary popped her head in. "Are you ready for the next one?"

Fiore shook her head. "Make the next one wait another ten minutes." Fiore decided as she went back to the one way glass to see how the candidates were reacting. The next person she planned to make cry. If they couldn't handle a stand up to her, they couldn't work for Henry. They wouldn't be able to handle Alex.