“Thank you, you’re both very kind,” I said, blushing as I nodded to Ms. Gable and Professor O’Connelly. I had never been very good at taking compliments.
Dr. Shariq continued. “If you accept, you would need to sign a confidentiality agreement. While I understand that there is a confidentiality requirement already in place for our tutors regarding the progress of the students with whom they work, we want to add one that covers not speaking to journalists or media outlets. Additionally, you would need to be okay with the fact that there will be two security guards present at each session.”
Who in the world could this be?Theo was far from the only noble student who attended RCW; the school was a popular option for international students and children of Wexstone’s noble families, though few of them had security guards on campus. Given that the student needed help in Spanish, that likely crossed out anyone from Spain or Latin America, but I was still coming up empty on who it could be.
“Do you think this is something you could do, Adelaide?” Ms. Gable asked gently. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable with the arrangement. We are asking a lot of you.”
Most of my interactions with high-society students hadbeen at Theo’s or his friends’ parties, and their welcome had always been lukewarm at best. They seemed confused about why Theo was dating someone common-born, and a scholarship student at that. But I knew how to put on a professional face and could surely suck it up for this task. I might not have a lot of fun, but having the vice-chancellor knowing my name in this context certainly couldn’t be a bad thing.
“No, I think—” I cleared my throat. “I know I can do it. Thank you for this opportunity.” I smiled tightly.
“Wonderful!” Dr. Shariq gleamed. “We already had the paperwork drawn up in hopes that you would say yes. Let me grab that and you can get to signing.” Ms. Gable passed me a pen as he picked up a legal envelope from the desk and withdrew the papers.
“Adelaide, thank you for doing this,” Professor O’Connelly said as I tried to speed-read the contract. “I know Prince Oliver will really excel once you start helping him. He just needs that little push, and I know you will help him get there.”
My hand slackened and the pen dropped to the desk.
“I’m sorry, did you say Prince Oliver?”
Of course it would be the prince.
“Yes. Prince Oliver is the student with whom you’ll be working,” Ms. Gable said. “Is that a problem?” She peered at me, an edge of concern in her eyes.
I steeled my face and answered. “Of course not. I’m sorry, I just forgot he was a student here.”
“I wish I could forget!” Dr. Shariq laughed heartily. “He’s a wonderful young man. But with the additional security measures he requires, and the occasional fan frenzy he draws at the beginning of each semester when new students arrive on campus, it is impossible for the administration to forget that he’s here.”
“I can imagine,” I replied tightly, forcing a smile to my face.
I actually couldn't imagine. I had never understood the draw to Prince Oliver or his older brother Xavier. My father had been friends with King Leroy since they were young, and though our family was occasionally invited to palace events, I stopped attending once I was old enough to stay home by myself. My entire life I had watched Prince Xavier use his status to get out of the very trouble he carelessly caused. And in primary school, Prince Oliver had never once intervened when Renata Raines or her friends bullied me for being a “scholarship kid,” my excellent grades, or for the fact that I’d rather read a book than do just about anything else. As an adult, I simply had no desire to be a part of that circle.
And now Prince Oliver needed a tutor. I wondered if Spanish was the only class he was struggling in. As far as I could recall, he had done fine in primary school, though he and most of the other high-born kids had later gone off to a prestigious private prep school, while I opted to remain at home and attend a local secondary school with my best friend. Perhaps his grades had taken a dive as he aged, though that didn’t seem likely. Despite his faults, he had always seemed bright and like a hard worker.
I supposed I would find out more soon enough. If I helped Prince Oliver pass his class, I could guarantee an amazing recommendation from Dr. Shariq when I graduated, giving me an additional leg up for securing the job of my choice.
Yes, for my own future, I would set aside my feelings for the prince and get through the next few months of working with him—one way or another.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Dr. Shariq said with a small bow as he motioned me into his office.
“Good morning, sir,” I answered, taking a seat in one of the tall-backed leather armchairs flanking his desk. “How has your week been?”
The vice-chancellor settled into his own chair across from me with a tired smile. “Oh, it’s been fine. A number of budget meetings, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Yours?”
I nodded. “It’s been good, thank you.” I liked Dr. Shariq. He was a kind man and excellent at his job, though I sometimes found the way he fretted over my presence a bit tiring. I knew it came with the “prince” territory and that he was just doing his job, but there were times I wished I could have gone through the last few years without needing to be on his radar.
“Now, I wanted to meet with you to follow up on our conversation from last week,” he began, settling back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach.
Ah, yes.My floundering Spanish grade.
Dr. Shariq continued, “I spoke with Ms. Gable from the tutoring center and Professor O’Connelly, and we have identified a tutor we feel would be a great fit for this particular situation. Very bright, excellent at her job, and quite discreet. We took the liberty of meeting with her this morning and explained the delicacies of this assignment. She has agreed to the arrangement, including the presence of two of your security personnel, and has already signed the confidentiality agreement.”
“Oh that’s…great,” I said, plastering on a smile and suppressing an eye roll. While I was grateful to him for finding me a tutor, the idea of making them sign a confidentiality agreement was ridiculous. I couldn’t care less if anyone knew that I needed help in one of my classes. Needing a tutor was perfectly normal.
But, I supposed,Iwas not perfectly normal.
Dr. Shariq reached for a sheet of paper on his desk and handed it to me. “Here are her details. I took the liberty of putting you on her schedule for tomorrow evening and booking one of the library study rooms for you, but we can change that if necessary.”
I took the paper and folded it in half without looking at it. “Tomorrow night is fine, I’ll make it work. Thank you for your help arranging this.”
