Novokia out of the recession? It is why I opened the factory.” She did not add that the real reason she’d opened it was because she had learned—the hard way—to no longer tempt, or try to alter, her fate.
She paced to another rosebush. “God, Father, does Viktor think we caused the recession? Doesn’t he realize this is a global problem? That everyone, everywhere, has been suffering?” Everyone, she thought, except the select few who continued to revel around the world as though there were no pain, no suffering, no tomorrow. Marina knew those select few well. Until recently, she had called them her friends.
“I suspect Viktor couldn’t care less about our people. His motives are purely selfish. Power is an alluring thing.”
Marina touched the tip of the thorn and wondered, as poets through the ages had wondered, how can so much beauty be so close to so much pain? She thought of her mother, the beautiful queen, who now stared into space knowing nothing and no one, the Alzheimer’s patient unaware even that she was loved. Beauty and pain. Not unlike Marina herself.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“Nicholas feels we need around-the-clock protection. He thinks we should stay close to the palace.”
Marina shook her head. “I have a cosmetics business to run, Father. We are coming into our first Christmas season. If we do not make it now, there will not be enough money to keep the plant operating.”
“I know how important that business is to you.”
“Do you, Father? Do you really?” Did he know that,like the pink plastic penis, Marina had counted on the business to offer a distraction from her loneliness, from her dangerous attempts at love? Had he guessed that, at some point over these past months, her values had shifted, that she had grown to really care about her people?
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and ran a hand through her thick, short-cropped hair. “The two hundred people we employ would be on the streets if it were not for Princess Cosmetics,” she said. “I owe it to them to see this through.
We
owe it to their families.”
“Perhaps Jorge can take over for a while. You can communicate by phone.”
“That is not possible. Jorge is busy investigating the addition of a fragrance line to our products. Besides, the workers look to me for answers. In their eyes, I am the princess. They see Jorge, even though he is my partner, as merely one of them.”
“You see? Power is alluring even to the poor.”
Marina turned and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” the king called after her.
“I am going to the factory,” she said. “If Viktor wants me so badly, he can damn well come there and get me.”
She looked out the glass window of her office, down onto the factory floor below. It had taken Marina two years to build this into a viable business. This Christmas, they would introduce their first full line, and with it, they would make a statement: The name Princess Cosmetics would become world renowned for its quality, superiority, and its legacy. Hopefully, a fragrance line would soon follow. Marina’s people would be assured of employment, and the tiny, economically depressed principality of Novokia would prosper once more. Then, if need be, they would have the financial strength, as well as the loyalty of the people, to fend off Viktor Coe.
Now, with this rumbling threat, the importance of their success had escalated another notch. The meeting she had called for this morning would define the company’s new priorities: Production must be stepped up; they must be ready to ship within six weeks, or they would be out of business. And marketing must be warned: Increase advance sales nowor get out. Viktor Coe was not going to take away everything she had worked so hard for. He was not going to take it away from her people, and he was not going to take it away from her. The son of a bitch was not going to screw Marina again.
She watched the huge
She paced to another rosebush. “God, Father, does Viktor think we caused the recession? Doesn’t he realize this is a global problem? That everyone, everywhere, has been suffering?” Everyone, she thought, except the select few who continued to revel around the world as though there were no pain, no suffering, no tomorrow. Marina knew those select few well. Until recently, she had called them her friends.
“I suspect Viktor couldn’t care less about our people. His motives are purely selfish. Power is an alluring thing.”
Marina touched the tip of the thorn and wondered, as poets through the ages had wondered, how can so much beauty be so close to so much pain? She thought of her mother, the beautiful queen, who now stared into space knowing nothing and no one, the Alzheimer’s patient unaware even that she was loved. Beauty and pain. Not unlike Marina herself.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“Nicholas feels we need around-the-clock protection. He thinks we should stay close to the palace.”
Marina shook her head. “I have a cosmetics business to run, Father. We are coming into our first Christmas season. If we do not make it now, there will not be enough money to keep the plant operating.”
“I know how important that business is to you.”
“Do you, Father? Do you really?” Did he know that,like the pink plastic penis, Marina had counted on the business to offer a distraction from her loneliness, from her dangerous attempts at love? Had he guessed that, at some point over these past months, her values had shifted, that she had grown to really care about her people?
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and ran a hand through her thick, short-cropped hair. “The two hundred people we employ would be on the streets if it were not for Princess Cosmetics,” she said. “I owe it to them to see this through.
We
owe it to their families.”
“Perhaps Jorge can take over for a while. You can communicate by phone.”
“That is not possible. Jorge is busy investigating the addition of a fragrance line to our products. Besides, the workers look to me for answers. In their eyes, I am the princess. They see Jorge, even though he is my partner, as merely one of them.”
“You see? Power is alluring even to the poor.”
Marina turned and began to walk away.
“Where are you going?” the king called after her.
“I am going to the factory,” she said. “If Viktor wants me so badly, he can damn well come there and get me.”
She looked out the glass window of her office, down onto the factory floor below. It had taken Marina two years to build this into a viable business. This Christmas, they would introduce their first full line, and with it, they would make a statement: The name Princess Cosmetics would become world renowned for its quality, superiority, and its legacy. Hopefully, a fragrance line would soon follow. Marina’s people would be assured of employment, and the tiny, economically depressed principality of Novokia would prosper once more. Then, if need be, they would have the financial strength, as well as the loyalty of the people, to fend off Viktor Coe.
Now, with this rumbling threat, the importance of their success had escalated another notch. The meeting she had called for this morning would define the company’s new priorities: Production must be stepped up; they must be ready to ship within six weeks, or they would be out of business. And marketing must be warned: Increase advance sales nowor get out. Viktor Coe was not going to take away everything she had worked so hard for. He was not going to take it away from her people, and he was not going to take it away from her. The son of a bitch was not going to screw Marina again.
She watched the huge
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