Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
Chapter Four of my internationally bestselling manifesto—The Untouchable Socialite: Why You Should Never Yield to a Man's Approval—was very clear on page sixty-two:
Rule #14: Never domesticate yourself for a man. Men do not pay five-figure monthly allowances for pot roast, and they certainly do not offer Cartier bracelets to women who smell like garlic onions. You are the prize, the prestige, and the destination. A prize does not chop carrots.
I stared down at the dark walnut kitchen island of Bramble Cottage, holding a shiny silver knife in my hand, staring intensely at a single clove of white garlic.
I was wearing a silk-and-cashmere cream loungewear set from Loro Piana, a pair of thick fluffy socks, and an oversized beige canvas chef's apron tied tightly around my tiny waist. My waist-length dark curls were piled high on top of my head in a chaotic, messy bun secured by a silk scrunchie.
