Royally Schooled

by McKenna James

  ROYALLY SCHOOLED

  MCKENNA JAMES

  COPYRIGHT© 2019 Royally Schooled by Mckenna James

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Royally Schooled is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  COPYRIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Mckenna James

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Maggie

  The first sip of my coffee nearly scalded me. My tongue stung right before I felt it go numb. Great. I definitely wouldn’t be tasting anything today.

  Normally I’d be a little more conscious about drinking my coffee at the right temperature, but today I was in a rush. I was already late to an interview for a job I absolutely needed, and I couldn’t afford to blow it. So, naturally, my alarm didn’t go off on time this morning, and I had just enough time to run a comb through my hair and get dressed before I had to leave.

  I was prepared and determined to get this job. I might have looked a mess, and actually be one, but as soon as I walked into that interview, I was going to be cool, calm, and collected. Surely the interview process wouldn’t be that rigorous anyway.

  An acquaintance had told me of a private job opening for tutoring two children and thought I might be a good candidate. I couldn’t imagine that any parent who would be interviewing me would be too harsh. It wasn’t like this was for a serious, stuffy corporate position.

  I wanted to look prepared. The quicker I could impress them, the better. This gig paid really well. Every month I struggled to make ends meet and I really needed the money. This job would be minimal hours and high in pay, so I couldn’t imagine any situation more perfect for me.

  I approached the elegant London hotel where the interview was going to be held. At first, I hadn’t questioned meeting at a hotel. There were many prestigious families in London, and I understood they wouldn’t want to invite strangers into their home until they had been vetted, and clearly whoever these parents were, they were obviously well-off.

  I was, however, genuinely surprised by how fancy it seemed. The entrance to the lobby had these gorgeous white French doors with exquisite gold handles. Apparently, they were even richer than I first imagined. Surely renting out a conference room here wouldn’t be cheap, even if it was only for an hour.

  With my coffee in one hand along with my resume and phone in the other, it was a struggle to open the door. The doors were heavier than I expected, and as I was pulling, my phone began to ring. I quickly released the door handle and took a step backward from the entrance so I could see who was calling me.

  As I did, I stepped into something behind me. I nearly tripped over and started falling backward, and immediately realized it wasn’t a something but a someone as they graciously caught me midair.

  Though at great cost to themselves because in my near tumble, my coffee slipped out of my hand and dropped behind me, and my resume fluttered to the pavement. As soon as I got my footing again, I turned around to find a stunningly handsome man standing there, his hands slowly falling from their grasp around my body. He was dressed in a phenomenal navy suit that was now covered in my spilled coffee.

  To say I was mortified would be the understatement of the year.

  “Oh no. Oh my gosh,” I muttered to myself. “I’m so, so sorry!” In my horror, the spilled coffee paced a trail in the direction of my scattered resume, so I rushed to scoop it up from the ground, shaking the dust before stuffing it in my purse. I looked up, surprised to find this charming man still standing before me.

  He was surprisingly gracious about the mishap. He looked down at his white button-down shirt, now clearly ruined with the coffee and smiled at me as he ran a hand through his perfectly-styled brown hair.

  “It’s no problem at all, accidents happen.”

  His smile only made me feel worse. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a man this handsome in my life, not in person anyway. He looked like a damn model. Not that I’d be happy to spill coffee on anyone, but why did it have to be on a man who looked like that? Just his smile had me melting.

  “Here, let me get the door for you,” he said as he pulled on the ornate gold door handle. He made it look a lot more effortless than I had in my clumsiness.

  “Th-thank you,” I stuttered out. “I’m so sorry about the coffee. Is there anything I can do? Pay for your shirt maybe?”

  I offered because it seemed like the only reasonable thing to do, but I was secretly hoping he’d say no. As I looked at his suit more closely, it was obvious to me that it was designer. I probably couldn’t even afford it. So I was relieved when he shook his head.

  “Nothing a good dry cleaning won’t fix.”

  I wasn’t sure about that. Coffee stains were particularly difficult to clean. But I appreciated him being so blasé about the whole thing.

  “Well, again, I’m truly sorry,” I said as I stepped through the door to the lobby.

  “It’s no problem at all. Have a wonderful day, Miss.”

  I smiled. “You too.”

  Despite living in London for several years now, I’d never quite gotten over how cute the accent was. His stunning looks were only enhanced by the sound of his voice.

  As he walked away, I caught myself staring at him; though I quickly reminded myself I needed to focus. I had no time to get stuck on handsome, British men. I had to figure out which room my interview was being held in.

  Even if I wasn’t rushing off to a job interview, I would’ve never pursued a man like that anyhow. He was out of my league, and there wasn’t really room in my life right now for dating. I had to focus on more important things like getting financially secure and prioritizing family. I hadn’t so much as opened a dating app since my father fell ill, and I had no intention to start anytime soon.

  On the wall of the lobby was a map of the hotel including all the conference rooms located on the first level My interview was down the hall and to the right in room 106.

  I made my way there and was surprised to find there was a long line of chairs sitting outside room 106, and there was a person in each and every one of them.

  It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I thought this would be a pretty low-key thing. I mean, it was for a tutoring job. I figured it would be me and a few other candidates at most. They really needed to interview this many people to determine who was a good fit to tutor elementary school-aged children?

  These people were even richer than I thought.

  I w
as definitely not feeling great about my chances anymore. I mean, surely one of these numerous men and women were far more qualified for the job than I was. What was supposed to make me stand out?

  For a moment I almost considered walking out, but I was already here. I might as well give it a shot. I didn’t want to ruin my reputation by seeming flaky, and there was the off chance that I was the tutor they were looking for.

  I sat next to a petite blonde woman with shoulder-length hair. She had her legs purposefully crossed. I smiled as I considered asking her if she knew why there were so many applicants.

  She didn’t meet my smile and instead kept a serious expression and looked forward. Okay, so it didn’t look like I’d be making any friends today. I sat patiently as candidates were called back only to return quickly thereafter with their shoulders slumped and disappointment written all over their faces. This only intensified my anxiety, but I resolved to give the best interview I could, the need of resolving my financial issues was too great for me to just walk away without a fight.

  A small, stout, middle-aged woman exited the room and looked down at a clipboard in front of her.

  “Is there a Maggie here?” she asked.

  Oh, crap! Me already? There was still a large line in front of me, and it didn’t seem as though I’d been waiting very long. The air of doom circulated the hallway, but I gave fear an internal pep talk before standing tall and proud, shoulders back, straightened my skirt and greeted the woman with a friendly smile. Like the woman I had sat next to outside, she didn’t meet that smile and instead retained a serious demeanor. I tried not to allow that to make me nervous, but it definitely did. I followed at a cautious distance to prevent any further mishaps such as that of my arrival.

  She took a seat behind the long walnut table and motioned toward the chair across from her. I sat with my back ram-rod straight, ankles crossed and looked up at the woman and man who stared back at me. I let out an involuntary gasp before sucking the sudden anxiety in. well huh. A smirk splayed wide across his face as his brow rose into his hairline, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.

  It was the man I’d spilled my coffee on! Crap, crap, crap! What was he doing here?

  Well, if I wasn’t already positive I wasn’t getting the job, I was convinced now.

  The woman looked at me with a furrowed brow. “Is there something wrong?” she asked in response to my gasp, her tone pointed.

  “N-no.” I looked at the man blankly, wondering if he would rat me out.

  I realized immediately, of course, that they probably weren’t husband and wife. He seemed too young for the woman. He was certainly closer to my age than hers.

  He didn’t rat me out but instead extended his hand. “You must be Maggie.”

  “Yes, hello.” I shook his hand in response and then reached out to shake the woman’s.

  “Hello, Maggie. I am Ms. Mitchell. It’s very good to meet you.”

  The name seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place the woman outside of a vague feeling of familiarity.

  Who were they? Perhaps assistants of the family who wanted to hire a tutor. How important could these people be that they wouldn’t attend the interview themselves, though? Not that I’d ever say that because I wanted this job, but I was most definitely judging them already.

  “Do you have your resume, dear?” Ms. Mitchell asked.

  “Oh, yes, of course!” I said as I pulled it out of my purse.

  Embarrassingly, it had become a bit crinkled in there, a slight smattering of dust staining the back of the page. I tried to flatten it on the table as I did my best to keep myself from blushing.

  This was an epic failure. My ears were getting hot from the stress, my blood pressure skyrocketing. I was really flubbing this whole thing.

  “Ah, so you studied early childhood development in college?” she asked.

  “I did, yes. I love children.” I smiled warmly, though I was inadvertently avoiding eye contact with the man.

  I shouldn’t have been. I mean, it was just as much an interview with him as it was with her. I couldn’t contain my embarrassment.

  “When will you be receiving your degree?” the man, who had still yet to identify himself, asked me.

  Dammit, I was hoping they wouldn’t ask that.

  “Well, uh, actually … I won’t be. I had to drop out of school due to some unfortunate personal circumstances.”

  “You are American, are you?” Ms. Mitchell asked.

  “Yes, born and raised. However, I’ve been in London for a couple of years,” I told her.

  “Do you know much about the royal family?” she asked.

  “A bit,” I tried to lie.

  The lie was pretty blatant. I’d never been one to pay attention to celebrities. To me, European royalty were essentially just celebrities. I wasn’t sure why I should retain an interest in the lives of total strangers.

  “So you are familiar with the royal children? Abigail and Andrew?”

  “Ah, yes. Abigail and Andrew, of course.” I forced a smile.

  She looked at me skeptically. “What grade is Abigail in now?” she asked.

  “Uh … third?” I guessed.

  The disappointment on her face was obvious. “She’s in fifth.”

  “Ah … yeah. Uh, well… Admittedly, I don’t know much about the children. It’s more the queen I’ve read about. I mean, it’s kind of creepy to put children in the spotlight in my opinion. So I don’t really go out of my way to read about them.”

  There was an immediate awkward tension in the air, and I couldn’t tell why. Was it something I’d said?

  “My dear, you do know this is a position to tutor the children of the royal family, don’t you?”

  My jaw dropped. “No… Uh, no. I wasn’t aware of that.”

  Well, I looked like an absolute idiot now. If I’d known, I would’ve brushed up on information about the royal family. The only thing royal I knew at the moment was that I’d royally screwed this up.

  “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I’m just a very busy person and don’t have the time to keep up on current events. It’s hard enough for me to follow American politics.”

  Ms. Mitchell nodded. "It's quite alright, I just wanted to make sure you knew. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  “Mmhmm,” I said through clenched lips. I had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of this interview when I’d already made such a fool of myself.

  Ms. Mitchell cleared her throat. “Have you worked with children in the past?”

  “Oh, yes, definitely. I was a nanny for a while. I was actually an au pair briefly—that was how I was able to move to London to study abroad in the first place.”

  “How do you like London?” she asked.

  “Oh, I absolutely love it. London is great.”

  “How long have you lived here again?” the man asked.

  “Several years. Since college.”

  “And for what reason did you decide to stay in London? Do you simply prefer London? Or perhaps you met someone?”

  I felt my cheeks warm with a blush. Did he just ask me if I had a boyfriend? Well I’d set him straight.

  “I fell in love.” I smiled lovingly. “With the glorious charm of London. The architecture, landscape, culture—that is why I stayed. My only love affair is with the city.”

  “So you haven’t met anyone then?” he challenged with a smirk. Had I not just answered that question?

  Ms. Mitchell stared at him with as much confusion as I was experiencing. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.”

  “Right, of course.” He nodded, to my relief. “Next question then… Do you have any children of your own?”

  “Edward!” Ms. Mitchell reprimanded him.

  Well, at least now I knew his name.

  “What?” Edward asked with a mischievous smile. “That seemed like a pertinent question to me. We’re trying to assess how she is with children, correct?”

  “We don’t need to know
about her family situation to assess that,” Ms. Mitchell said sternly.

  “No, that’s quite alright,” I spoke up. “I don’t have children, though I hope to one day. I just haven’t met the right person.”

  He smiled at me. “Interesting.”

  Ms. Mitchell looked at him sternly, and he looked back with a jerk of his head. They were communicating but not verbally.

  From that point forward, Edward remained silent as Ms. Mitchell continued the interview. The final questions were a lot less personal in nature.

  I didn’t feel that any of my answers were redeeming. At the end of the interview, I thanked them both for their time, I knew I wasn’t going to get the job.

  I left disappointed but not altogether surprised. Especially not after discovering that it was the royal children they were looking for someone to tutor. It made complete sense to me now why there were so many applicants. There were certainly many more qualified people in that room than me, particularly when it came to knowledge on the royal family. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why they’d even entertain interviewing an American.

  When I got home, the first thing I did was go to my father’s bedroom to check on him. I didn’t like to leave him alone for more than an hour at a time these days. I had a caregiver some days who came to help with him, but nobody was coming in today.

  To my relief, he was asleep. Good, he needed to be resting. I shut the door quietly and exited the room.

  I wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling him I didn’t get the job. He had been so hopeful when I left. Despite his illness, he was always incredibly positive about everything. That was something I couldn’t relate to. As the days went by and he became more ill, I only felt more and more negative.

  Though I did my best not to appear positive and upbeat.

  I went to the kitchen to see what I could make for dinner. I had some thawed chicken breasts in the fridge that I forgot I had put out the night before and decided to season those and put them in the oven to bake.

  As the chicken cooked, I looked at the mail on the kitchen table. The caregiver must have brought it up the night before without my noticing. I flipped through it. It was mostly junk, but then I realized we’d received another letter from the hospital.