Against the backdrop of the high-tech city, the room—the entire palace really—was a tranquil retreat, despite the fact that she hadn’t explored Hayat City enough yet to need a retreat from it.
On the car ride from the racetrack to the palace, Rita and Jag had agreed that it was best for her to keep a low profile, remaining for the most part in the palace, until after the exhibition.
That would keep the public’s attention focused on the event while Rita’s wardrobe was completed. It also allowed her to push the whole idea of debuting to the world to the back burner of her mind.
Thus far, nothing this wild arrangement had asked of her had caused any permanent changes to the way she did business, but revealing to the world that NECTAR was a woman undoubtedly would.
If Jag was right, being a princess would offset the loss of respect she would undoubtedly experience in the public eye once everyone knew she was woman, but if he was wrong, it would take a long time to recover.
And it wasn’t like princesses exactly commanded respect in the auto industry—not to mention in engineering and computer science. They were fields that, unfortunately, still just didn’t really take women seriously.
But shewouldbe able to weather the storm because shewouldbe a princess.
At least temporarily.
And when she was no longer a princess, she would have been openly operating as NECTAR, the woman, for long enough that her work would once again speak for itself.
She hoped.
“What’s going on in that mad genius mind of yours?” Jag asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Starting, she had to pause in her steps for a moment.
Readjusting to the reality of company was a strange novelty. She had spent so much time alone that she wasn’t used to someone pulling her back from her thoughts.
In fact, dinner tonight, with company, unexpected as it was, was something that had not happened in her life since she’d graduated from college.
After being disowned by her family nearly a decade ago, she had not been invited to any family gatherings, following the Friendsgivings of college. When her few friends had returned to their families of origin or begun starting families of their own, she’d felt like too much of an imposition to sit in.
In fact, far more than the physical intimacy they were committed to avoiding, sharing a meal together felt dangerously close and personal.
But that was probably just because she was used to the life of a hermit.
She was sure the Prince knew what he was doing.
Arriving in the dining room, they found that Rafida had set the table, but not yet laid it with food.
Jag sat at the north end of the table and Rita took the seat to his left, it being the spot that made the most sense, conversation-wise.
She didn’t want to have to yell at him across the table.
As they settled, Jag asked, “How did your work go today?”
Smiling, Rita said, “Good. The tools that have arrived so far are already making me realize how out-of-date my garage had become. I can’t wait for the whole work space to be completed. It’s so much more fun to work with top-of-the-line equipment,” she said, pleasure rippling through her. “What about you? I mean besides the phone call you skipped.”
Chuckling at her sass, Jag said, “Oh, I got a few things accomplished, one of which was approving the final schedule for the finale and NECTAR’s, and my wife’s, debut. It will take place at the race after-party. Where a highly selective guest list and a great deal of media will be in attendance. I anticipate announcing not just the triumph of the remarkable NECTAR Ferrari, but also the triumph of having won the infamous engineer’s heart.”
Once again there was a skip in the smooth flow of their conversation as Rita stilled upon hearing his words.
Of all the sacrifices she had been asked to make for her chance to change the world, the loss of her anonymity and the protective shell of the world thinking she were a man was the most difficult.
It had not been easy to protect who she was, and a part of her still wasn’t convinced that giving it up was the best call.
When Rita waited too long to nod her enthusiasm or say something in response, Jag frowned at her. “You’re still nervous.”
Seeing no point in denying it, Rita didn’t. “I am. Anonymity has been a security blanket for me,” she admitted. “It’s hard to let it go.”
“You’re not a little girl, Rita, and you don’t have little-girl ambitions. I say that it’s well past time you let go of the blanket.”