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Jazz
On Monday morning, four days before I leave on the royal tour with a group of journalists from all the major publications in Nord, I walk up to my desk at work and see a little red box placed in front of my keyboard. Frowning, I glance around the office.
There aren’t many people here—I like to come in early. But my favorite coworker, Annie, pokes her head around the wall leading to the office kitchen with a gleam in her eye. Her gaze shifts to my desk, then back to my face. She rushes over, grinning. “Open it, open it, open it.” Her cheeks are red, and frizzy brown curls are tied back in a huge bun on the crown of her head. A dusting of freckles covers her cheeks, nose, and forehead, bright under the fluorescent lights of our office.
I arch a brow. “Good morning to you, too.”
“It’s from Cochrane Jewelers.” Annie nudges the box toward me with a finger. She’s wearing a bright-red wrap dress with chunky, multicolored jewelry. Beside my unofficial uniform of black slacks, a black blazer, and white blouse, she looks like an explosion of color. “I signed for the delivery.” Her eyes gleam. “I’ve been dying for you to get here.” Annie puts a cup of coffee down on my desk for me, bringing a second mug up to her lips as she looks at me expectantly over the rim.
All I can do is frown as I slide my fingers over the crimson box. It’s long and rectangular with a black bow tied around it. The kind of box that would have a necklace in it. Tugging the ribbon to undo the bow, I pull it off and lift the top. Inside is a card, with a smaller velvet box nestled underneath.
Annie squeals. “You have an admirer. Oh my goodness, Jazz, you need to spill. Do you have a boyfriend? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Who would send this to my workplace?” I pick up the card and turn it around, eyes widening.
Thought you could use this to keep your ring secure.
Might save another poor frog from trudging through the muck.
No signature, but I know who it’s from. My eyes widen, heart thumping. This is from Prince Silas. The Prince sent me a jewelry box at work. He…he…
Annie reads the card over my shoulder, inhaling sharply. “Jazz, you have some explaining to do. Frog? Muck? What is this about?” She squeals again, giggling. Her neon-yellow hoop earrings bobble.
I clear my throat. “My friend Rhea dragged me to a party this weekend,” I answer, knowing it’s not an explanation at all. My hands tremble as I put the card down, reaching for the velvet box. It’s soft, red, and completely luxurious. I’ve never bought or been gifted jewelry that required a box like this.
With Annie urging me on, I take the box between my fingers. A part of me is flattered, but a bigger part of me is… I don’t even know how to explain how I feel. Almost insulted. Does he think he can buy me off? Does he think because he’s a prince, I’m going to fall over myself to see him again?
I still think the monarchy should be ended, no matter what’s inside this box.
Still…this is from royalty. It’s hard to ignore the funny flip my heart does.
“Oh. My. God. Jazz!” Annie nudges me with an elbow, hard. “Open the damn thing!”
Biting my bottom lip, I flip the lid open. Nestled in soft, white silk is a delicate gold chain. My heart squeezes. I’ve wanted to get a chain for this ring for ages. Ever since I got it, really.
I hate to admit this, but it’s thoughtful. It’s simple, and it wouldn’t have been that expensive. At least, I don’t think it would be. It doesn’t look like a gaudy, obnoxious piece of jewelry that I’d expect a prince to like. It…it’s exactly what I’d buy for myself.
My finger runs over the delicate gold chain, feeling the way it moves beneath my skin like liquid. No, it’s not ostentatious, but it’s very finely crafted—and it breaks my heart that I can’t keep it.
Annie glances at my face, and her smile slips. “What? Why do you look like you’re going to vomit?”
Closing the lid on the box, I shake my head. “I can’t keep this.”
“Excuse me? Why? And who?”
I chuckle, reaching for the coffee she made me to buy myself some time. I can’t exactly tell her what happened this weekend, or how conflicted I feel about the whole thing.
The very fabric of my identity has been formed around hating the royal family. Well, not hating, exactly. But hating what they stand for. Hating that there are people in our society who are valued more than others.
Silas surprised me. I can admit that. He seemed more down to earth than I’d expect from a prince, but…but…
If I accept this present, it throws everything into question. How can I accept this, and then go on the royal tour next week? I’m supposed to write honest yet critical articles about Prince Wolfe’s performance in the upcoming tour, and if anyone found out I was accepting jewelry from his little brother, well, it would call my entire body of work into question. My credibility would be shattered.
I look at Annie and shake my head. “It’s complicated.”
“Girl, you need to get laid.”
I cough up my coffee, spraying it all over my desk. “What?”
