Naughty Princess

7

"Who?" The lights are off now, and the movie is back on. Now just for appearances, neither is watching the movie. The volume is loud enough for the words to be legible, but just barely.

"Look, I know you don't really like him but... you remember my cousin Jace?" Addison's nose wrinkles in disgust because, yes, she did remember Jace Slate.

The first time Addison had met Jace was at Grace's 17th birthday. The party had been held here, and because everyone in Grace's family day-drank, alcohol was there. No one cared that Grace drank (she ended up vomiting later, and Jace had to help Addison carry her to bed), but Addison didn't want to. She also didn't really like hanging around the people that did drink.

She had gone outside to get some fresh air before Grace started to drink too heavily.

The air had been cool against her skin, her sweater dress was thin and hardly giving her any warmth. The stars had been beautiful though, and the boy sitting on the back stairs, dressed in a pair of tight black jeans, and a loose graphic tee, had been too.

Then he had turned around and... well, it ended up in a yelling match. He may have called her a tramp; she may have said he needed to pull his head out of his ass.

She had stormed off, and they only saw each other much later in the night when she needed help after Grace had vomited in the bathroom. He had helped her carry Grace to her bed and had helped clean up a little of the vomit in the hallway outside of the bathroom before leaving.

Something always soured in her mouth when she thought about that night, about how she could have played it differently.

"He sucks, and yes, I do know him. What does he have to do with it?" The morning after Grace's party, Addison had found out, in red-faced embarrassment, that not only was Jace her cousin, but he was also the son of Michael Slate.

Of Slate Enterprises.

It wasn't that big of a deal; he was just the son of the man who owned Slate Manufacturing and Slate Hotel. All based in New York. The company also had its fingers in every other small business in New York.

Basically, Addison had insulted and yelled at the heir of the richest man in the state of New York.

Addison had been grateful she hadn't drunk the night before, or she might have vomited.

Like how she felt now because she had another little hunch. And she hoped it wasn't right; it shouldn't be. Why would the richest man in NY need a roommate?

"Well... he needs someone to share his apartment with, and that's perfect for your situation!" Grace looks a little happier now, sitting across Addison on the bed, with the little blue lamb in her lap. Addison doesn't have the heart to shoot her down.

"Fine."

---

The coffee shop is higher end; everything is sleek and clean and in shades of brown.

The drive from Greenwich was spent with a lot of Grace talking, and a lot of Addison wanting to vomit. At least they were going to get coffee, Addison's second cup of the day. Probably not a good thing.

Now they're a two-minute walk away, and Addison feels like she's about to faint. She hasn't seen Jace since that night, and she wasn't really planning on changing that. Ever.

"Don't be worried; he's changed since then. Like, an actual gentleman, if you believe it." Addison wouldn't, and if she saw it, she'd think it was someone wearing his face. Maybe that's what this is, a mean joke.

The walk was nice.

She decided to dress casually today and felt comfortable so no matter how awkward she felt, she wouldn't be self-conscious.

It was cool, but not freezing, so she was wearing a fitted purple sweater and black jeans. Her boots were well-worn, but they still held onto their black shine. Her hair was up; she was wearing natural makeup; it was a safe play.

She still felt off. This felt too much like a date, and the last time she went on one of those was with the guy from her English class in high school. Addison preferred spending time with Grace than guys, the boys and men she knew always ending up as quick things, never more than a month. And it was always their choice.

She wasn't their type of girl.

Now that they were inside, Addison was actually worried she might just vomit.

They had agreed to meet at 10, and right now it was 9:30 am. Always punctual, Addison had to force Grace out of bed early so they could get ready and on the road. Which she was still sort of thankful for. Sort of.

"Alright Addy, I'm going to go to the toilet real quick. Just order me a flat white, okay? See ya." And then she's off, threading through people and making a steady but slightly fast walk to the toilets. Addison doesn't really like going to cafes, the scent and busy chatter and the ordering alone, but today it distracts her.

That's why she didn't notice her name being called as she was standing in line waiting to order.

"-dison? Addison?" someone tapped her shoulder; she turned around dreading an old boyfriend or classmate but no. Jace Slate had aged well.

He had been tall that night they met, but he had still grown taller (and broader) in the years since. He was around 6'2; she had to tilt her head back a little to look him in the eye. There was this bored expression on his face, his green eyes looking at her hair to her sweater with calm amusement. His hair was combed back, but a few stray pieces had flopped forward. He was clean-shaven, totally assured about himself, and now that Addison saw what he was wearing, he was also probably thinking she was underdressed. The suit and tie were a bit much in her opinion.

"Let's order, yeah?" She felt her heart in her throat; she swallowed it down.

---

They ordered, and then went to sit at a table outside in the bar garden. It was only small, because this was New York, of course, but the flowers smelled lovely and the sun was warm. She hadn't realized it yet, but Jace was leading her around like a lost puppy, and she was letting him. They sat down at a table of his choosing; she sat in the chair that he had gestured to. She felt like a wooden doll, being strung about. Hopefully, this was how the whole meeting went, so she wouldn't have to think or speak. Then she could pretend it was happening to someone else.

"So, Addison, I've been told you're in a bit of a situation." He waited for her to speak, and when she didn't, tongue thick in her mouth, he leaned forward and began to speak in a low voice.

"Look, I wouldn't have picked you, not now and not when we were 17 and not in two years' time... but, I love my cousin, and she vouched for you. So, why not?" This didn't seem like something Jace would do, though. Everything was calculated; he knew the whys and

the nots and the in-betweens. She felt completely out of her depths, hoping Grace would come and protect her from this man, with his smooth words and coy smile. There was something cruel at the edge of his lips.

"If you want to be my... maid, then who am I to say no? I wasn't going to 'hire' someone I personally know so well, but Grace is very persuasive." Maid? Hired? What the fuck was going on here? The sun seemed a bit too hot now; her stomach was rolling, and the vomit she had been fighting all morning now seemed like a very possible reality. Surely, this was some mistake; Grace would have told her. She opened her eyes that she hadn't realized she had shut, gaze focusing on Jace's now somewhat confused face. For the first time since she had been with him today, he didn't seem so sure. He broke eye contact and looked to the left, at the flowers. He frowned, tapping his kept nails on the clear tabletop.

"She didn't tell you, did she?" And of course, that was the time Grace made her appearance, waitress behind her with their cups of coffee on a tray. It was comedic; from the sour smile on Jace's face, he thought so too. When Grace got to the table, she started smiling as well, until she noticed the wetness in Addison's eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she began to bite her lips.

"No," Addison said to both Grace and her cousin. "She hasn't."