Page 28 of Coral Prince Conundrum (Runaway Prince Hotel #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Daryl
Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, I tune in to a news website on my laptop.
I’m sitting on the couch in my dad’s living room, biting my thumbnail.
The lower floor of his suburban mansion has become my catch-all quarters for my recovery.
I have a tiny fold-out desk with my computer, and clothes and snacks are littered around the pull-out couch.
My wounds and lungs have healed well in the past three weeks, but I’m still not one-hundred-percent strong.
Layla and Justice have visited me on occasion, and I’ve given them the G-rated version of my adventures in the Coral Kingdom.
If either of them were here right now, they’d likely tell me not to open the video in front of me.
But, like doom-scrolling, this torture has its own allure, so I do it anyway. Click .
The voiceover announces, “And seen here, leaving the summit building, Searoyal Dagat, the prince of the Coral Kingdom, an obscure island nation in the Pacific, has been incredibly active at United Regions meetings.”
My heart skips a beat at seeing the man I love wearing a traditional green tunic coupled with a more European-style pair of dark trousers and brown loafers. He’s walking down the steps of some random building in Sydney, one of the various meeting spots of the worldwide organization, the UR.
The voiceover continues, “His Highness the prince has offered to assist several other countries with marine wildlife studies in an effort to prevent the extinction of endangered fish species. He has presented treaties that would foster international relations and guidance on environmental issues pertaining to ocean life. All the while, he has stated that fishing corporations can remain active with some proposed changes. Searoyal Dagat has begun what he is calling a new era of globalization and open borders for the Coral Kingdom. Additionally, he claims it to be a new age of peace across the seas.”
I watch as images flash on the screen of him speaking at a podium in front of dozens of world leaders.
He seems so regal, and I watch another B-roll of him shaking hands with presumably other politicians as he strides down a hallway.
He’s so much more confident than the man I used to practice speeches with at the hotel.
I touch his face, all dark skin and brown eyes, on the screen.
“In other kingdom news, we review the Fire Realm and the recent dramatic turn of events, when?—”
Not caring about the rest of the news, I click off the video and close my laptop. My eyes burn, but I refuse to shed any tears. This is what we both wanted. The Coral Kingdom has chosen peace, and Seero is leading his people to be a presence around the world. I should be thrilled.
But the pain of missing him feels like drowning all over again.
The doorbell rings, so I immediately dart up and hobble to the door on my crutches.
My breathing is back to normal, but I still can’t walk independently without the metal under my arms. Still, I’ll take any excuse to distract myself from the news.
I don’t even care that I’m in my boxers and a wrinkly tank top, I need to get up and maybe breathe in air from the outside world.
The doorbell rings again, so I holler, “Just a minute!” The deliveryman will have to wait.
When I open the door, my eyebrows jump. “Justice? What are you doing here?” I don’t recall him saying he was going to visit today.
“I’m here to be your fairy godmother.” He strides in, and it’s then that I notice he’s dressed in a nice suit. I close the door and stare at him. My coworker has been in a chipper mood since his drama with magical fae people was resolved.
In the foyer, he spins on his heels and says, “I’m taking you to the ball, Cinderella. Or was it the mouse that took her to the ball? Or a pumpkin?” He shakes his head. “Whatever, let’s go.”
“Huh?” I frown. “I’m…not going.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” Dad says. He strides up to Justice, holding two hangers of dry-cleaned clothes. Justice grins and nods. “I called your best friend here.”
“Well, he called Layla first,” Justice corrects. “But she’s super busy setting up. So I’m here to take you to the gala.”
“What?” Since when are Justice and my dad scheming together?
“The Renversé Hotel Masquerade Ball,” Justice says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to skip out on the biggest social event of the year. For charity.” He emphasizes that last word, and Dad simply nods.
I’m too bewildered to say anything. Of course I know about the huge event, but I haven’t exactly been social since I got back to America. Now these two have coordinated to make me go to a dance?
“But…I can’t go.”
“Why not?” Dad quirks an eyebrow and glances at the messy living room where I sleep. “It’s not like you’re preoccupied.”
“Eating takeout nonstop doesn’t count as occupied,” Justice murmurs.
I blink at them, then reply, “I’m not…um…”
“I have fine clothes pressed and ready for you.” Dad thrusts the garments in my hand. “And I already paid for your ticket and then some. It wasn’t an insubstantial donation.”
I frown. “A tax write-off, courtesy of Tishman’s Fishery?”
Dad shrugs. “It’s still for a good cause.” I’d be more upset, but the proceeds of the event are going to the vocational center and homeless shelters. The charity is too important to dismiss.
“I’m…really not in a mood.”
“Son, you’re growing moss here. You need to go out and enjoy life, preferably with fewer ocean-based injuries,” Dad says in a facetious tone.
The pair of them gaze at me expectantly. “But I can’t move or dance in this.” I wag my right crutch at him.
“Then come sit with us, and I’ll get you all the punch you want, man.” Justice taps my shoulder and softens his grin. “It would really mean a lot to me, Layla, and the whole Café Magnifique crew.”
I sigh. He’s really laying the guilt on thick. After a beat, I bite my lip and mutter, “Come help me get dressed, Justice.”
“Yesss,” he whisper-cheers. With that, I hobble to the bathroom. They’ve clearly been trying to get me out of the house, so I might as well relent so they don’t badger me forever. In any case, it beats staying at home, being forlorn over a prince I’ll never see again.
Everything at the gala looks amazing. This newly restored wing is superb, mixing classic nineteenth-century hotel vibes with modern technology.
I had heard rumors that Layla hired a real tech wizard to fix up this wing, and now I get to see the results.
Flat screens decorate the walls, displaying information about the charity event.
Several chandeliers shine brightly from the ceiling.
Before them all stand massive archways ornately decorated with garlands and the occasional balloon structure.
All in all, I can see this ballroom being the site of many weddings and other ostentatious events for years to come.
Tables with dark cloth line the outer rim of the center ballroom, and I’ve planted myself at one.
Justice and his studly boyfriend have been so generous in getting me drinks and food since I can’t walk quickly.
The music switches between modern, fast-paced tunes and orchestral music, melding sounds of the past and present.
And nearly everyone is wearing a face mask.
The main entranceway houses a decoration station with plastic upper face masks, paint markers, and glueable accessories.
Some folks brought their own high-end masks, but I’m perfectly content customizing a free one.
Holding the mask that Justice procured for me on the table, I use a blue marker to draw lines shaped like waves on the white plastic material.
One would think that almost drowning twice in one day would make me afraid of the ocean.
But no, I still miss my time in the Coral Kingdom. I miss my Seero.
After I put down the marker, I gaze out at the happy couples slow-dancing.
It’s an eclectic bunch for sure—I swear, I see a half-snake man slithering at one point—but I’ve always enjoyed how lively the community is here in Princedelphia.
Everyone’s dolled up, wearing their masks, and staring at each other lovingly while they hold one another on the ballroom floor.
I sigh and tap the table, feeling as single as ever. I wonder if I’ll ever get over the Coral Prince.
When the crowd moves away from the front entrance, I spot a new figure arriving underneath the balloons.
He’s dressed in a dark suit and a green tie.
His upper facemask is dark azure, with a green cloth dangling down, obscuring his mouth.
He adjusts his dark gloves and plays with the buttons on his blazer.
I can barely make out his trimmed, dark hair in the low lighting.
I am still, however, interested in his lean body—can you blame me?
I haven’t had an orgasm since my injury.
He also strides with a confident walk…toward me. I look around, and no one else is near my table. This mystery dude is coming to see me?
He stops when he’s directly in front of me, and my heart hammers in my chest—from fear or arousal, I’m not sure. Mystery man opens his hand and reveals a small glass piece of…coral?
I look into his eyes, and the recognition pulls me back to a month ago. My heart lights aflame, and my mouth goes dry. This can’t be…
“Seero?” I rasp.
“Daryl Tishman,” he says in that sexy tone I would recall anywhere. “May I have this dance?”