Page 28 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

FLORIS

I wasn’t the kind of guy to spend the night or to let my hookups stay over.

Granted, part of that was also because I could hardly bring them back to the palace or anywhere where the press could easily spot them, but that was not the only reason.

Staying over meant facing the morning after, meant possible complications and people wanting more than sex, which had been a definitive hell, no .

Until now.

Waking up with Orson plastered against me like a little octopus should’ve made me panic, but it didn’t. Instead, as soon as I realized where I was and more importantly, who was softly snoring in my arms, a deep peace filled me.

I stared down at Orson’s sleeping face, tracing the curves of his cheeks, the line of his jaw, with my gaze. His dark lashes fanned against his skin, his lips slightly parted as he breathed. He looked so innocent, so unguarded. So beautiful.

A lump formed in my throat. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t me. I didn’t do feelings, and I certainly didn’t do relationships. I’d learned long ago that those things only led to pain and disappointment. It was safer to keep things casual, superficial. To not let anyone get too close.

But with Orson… God, it was different. From the moment we met, there had been this undeniable pull toward him. Like gravity. I couldn’t resist it even if I wanted to. And if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to resist anymore.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, I brushed a stray curl off his forehead. He sighed in his sleep and nuzzled closer, his arm tightening around my waist. My heart squeezed almost painfully in my chest.

I was in deep trouble here.

But then Orson stirred, his eyes blinking open sleepily. When his gaze met mine, a blush crept into his cheeks, as if he too was realizing the position we were in.

“Morning,” I murmured, my voice still rough from sleep.

“Morning,” Orson replied, his eyes wide and a little shocked. “I… I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that. I’m sorry.”

I chuckled, tightening my arms around him. “Don’t be. I liked it.”

Orson’s blush deepened, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Me too.”

We lay there for a few more minutes, enjoying each other’s presence, until the smell of coffee and bacon wafted up from downstairs. Orson groaned, burying his face in my chest. “That’ll be my mom. There’s no way she’ll have missed me not sleeping on the couch.”

I ran my hand up and down Orson’s back. “We should probably head down there, huh? Face the music.”

Orson lifted his head, biting his lip nervously. “I don’t know what to say to her. This is all so new.”

I repressed a smile at Orson’s embarrassment, finding it absolutely adorable. “We’ll figure it out together,” I assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before untangling our limbs and climbing out of bed.

After a quick stop in the bathroom to make ourselves presentable, Orson and I got dressed and headed downstairs together, Orson fidgeting nervously the whole way.

Diana was at the stove, frying up eggs and bacon, humming softly to herself. She turned as we entered, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good morning, boys,” she said cheerfully, as if this was any other day and her son hadn’t just spent the night wrapped in another man’s arms. “Breakfast is almost ready. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” I replied easily, taking a seat at the table while Orson stood there awkwardly, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Orson, honey, why don’t you set the table?”

“Sure, Mom.” Orson’s voice was a little shaky as he moved to grab silverware. I could practically feel the nerves radiating off him.

Diana’s gaze landed on me, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Sleep well, Floris?”

I grinned at Diana, not missing the mischievous glint in her eye. “Yes, ma’am, like a baby.”

Orson made a strangled noise as he placed forks and knives around the table. His cheeks were flaming red now. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Diana just hummed contentedly as she slid the eggs and bacon onto a serving platter. “I’m so glad. You know, Orson’s mattress isn’t the most comfortable. I keep meaning to replace it.” She winked at me conspiratorially.

“Mom!” Orson sputtered, nearly dropping the stack of plates he was holding. He set them down with a clatter .

“What? I’m just saying.” Diana placed the platter on the table and took a seat, acting completely oblivious to her son’s mortification. “Well, dig in before it gets cold.”

Orson finally sat down next to me, his knee bouncing anxiously under the table. I placed my hand on his thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“At least it’s more comfortable than the couch,” Diana said, and I had to give her props for the flawless delivery of that line. Of course, she then went for the kill. “Though I suspect Orson didn’t spend much time on it last night.”

Orson dropped a fork, his face flaming red. “Mom!”

“What? Am I wrong?” Diana arched an eyebrow at her son.

Orson opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing. “No. You’re not wrong. Floris and I, we’re… together. Sort of. It’s new.”

Diana’s teasing expression softened into one of genuine happiness. She rounded the table and pulled Orson into a tight hug. “Oh, honey. I’m so happy for you.”

Over his mom’s shoulder, Orson met my gaze, his eyes wide with surprise and relief. I smiled encouragingly at him.

When Diana released him, there were tears shimmering in her eyes. “Your father would be so proud of you, Orson. So proud. All we ever wanted was for you to find someone who makes you as happy as he and I were together.”

Orson’s own eyes welled up at the mention of his dad. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Diana said firmly, cupping Orson’s face in her hands. “He loved you so much, Orson. And he would’ve loved seeing you like this, opening your heart to someone special.”

A few tears escaped down Orson’s cheeks. I had to swallow past the lump in my own throat. Seeing him so emotional, so vulnerable, made me want to wrap him up in my arms and never let go.

Orson swallowed hard. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

He glanced over at me again, a tentative smile on his face. I reached out and took his hand, interlacing our fingers.

Diana wiped at her eyes and laughed. “Listen to me getting all sentimental. I’m so thrilled you two found each other.” She patted Orson’s cheek affectionately before returning to her seat.

Just then, Tia came bounding down the stairs, her hair in a messy ponytail. “Morning, everybody!” she chirped, plopping down next to her mom and helping herself to a heaping pile of eggs and bacon.

“Morning, sweetie,” Diana replied, pouring Tia a glass of orange juice. “Sleep well?”

“Yep! Though not as well as Orson, I bet,” Tia said with a cheeky grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Tia!” Orson groaned, covering his face with his hands.

I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. This family was something else.

“So you’re a prince, right?” Tia mercifully turned her attention to me.

The kitchen grew quiet. “How did you know?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I overheard Mom saying something to you and googled you. It’s not like it was hard to find.”

That made sense. “That’s right. I’m part of the royal family of the Netherlands. My uncle is the king, King Friso.”

“That is so cool! Do you live in a castle? Do you have servants? Ooh, do you have a crown?” Tia rapid-fired questions at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I grew up in a palace, though it kinda looks like a castle too,” I replied, amused by her enthusiasm. “And yes, there are staff. We don’t like to call them servants. There’s a crown, but it only comes out for special occasions. But I try to live a pretty normal life, as much as I can anyway.”

“Wow!” Tia was clearly star-struck. “I can’t believe my brother is dating a prince. That’s like something out of a Disney movie!”

Orson made a choking noise, his face somehow turning even redder. I squeezed his hand under the table, not bothered in the least by her questions. “I’m afraid reality isn’t quite as charming as the movies, but we do try.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna make Orson a prince too? Since you’re together and all.” Tia grinned mischievously at her brother, who looked like he wanted to slide under the table.

“Tia, shut up,” Orson mumbled, his face still beet red.

“But isn’t that how it works? That if you marry a prince, you become a prince too? Or in my case, a princess? Hey, do you have any brothers, maybe?”

I chuckled at Tia’s antics, finding her blunt curiosity refreshing. “Orson would make a very handsome prince,” I said with a wink, making Orson groan again.

“You’re not helping,” he muttered under his breath, but a small smile tugged at his lips.

“As for brothers, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” I told Tia apologetically. “I have one older brother, but he’s already engaged. But if I come across any eligible princes, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

“Deal!” Tia grinned at me, clearly delighted by the idea.

Diana shook her head fondly. “Tia, let the poor man eat his breakfast now. You can interrogate him later.”

“Fine, fine.” Tia sighed dramatically before shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

Orson shot me an apologetic look across the table but I smiled reassuringly back at him. His family was a trip, but in the best way possible. Tia was super sweet, but I could see what Orson had mentioned about her being young for her age. She acted more like a teenager than a twenty-year-old.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of easy conversation and laughter.

Diana asked me questions about my family and what it was like growing up royal, but in a casual, curious way that didn’t feel prying.

I found myself sharing stories I hadn’t told many people, about sneaking out of the house with my brother as a kid, some of my more infamous moments with the press as a child, and the pressure I sometimes felt to live up to expectations.

“How different is Dutch culture compared to American?” Diana asked me.

“Very different in some ways,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “The Dutch are famously direct. We say exactly what we think, which can come across as rude to Americans. Like, if someone asks how you like their new haircut and it’s terrible, we’ll tell them it’s terrible.”

“That sounds awkward,” Tia said, wrinkling her nose.

I laughed. “It can be! But we see it as being honest and helpful. Why let your friend walk around with bad hair if you can prevent it?”

“What else is different?” Diana asked, genuinely interested.

“Well, we have this concept called gezellig , which has no translation in English. It’s kind of like cozy, but more than that.

It’s a feeling, a mood. Enjoying a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

Like this,” I gestured around the kitchen table.

“Having breakfast together, talking, laughing, that’s gezellig . ”

“Fascinating,” Diana said.

“But I think what stands out most is our ability to compromise and find a middle ground that works for everyone. We call it the polder model , named after our polders , which is the Dutch word for reclaimed land. We basically acknowledge that no one will ever get exactly what they want, so we agree to disagree and find common ground in the middle. We have to, since our parliament has fifteen political parties represented.”

“Fifteen?” Orson’s eyes grew wide. “For real?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Two-party systems are for wimps.”

“But how does anything get done with fifteen parties?” Orson asked, his analytical mind clearly trying to work out the logistics.

“That’s where the polder model comes in. We have to work together, find compromises. No party ever has a majority, so coalition-building is essential. It’s messy and slow sometimes, but it works.”

“Like how you and Orson worked out your differences?” Diana suggested with a knowing smile.

I grinned, catching Orson’s hand under the table. “Exactly. Though I’d say in our case, the compromise heavily favored me getting my way and dragging him out of the library occasionally.”

“Hey!” Orson protested, but he was smiling too. “I go willingly. Sometimes.”

“After extensive negotiation and careful consideration of all variables,” I teased. “Very Dutch of you, actually.”

Tia rolled her eyes. “You guys are disgustingly cute. I can totally see you get married and have, like, kids.”

“Tia, let them be,” Diana warned.

I appreciated her correcting Tia, even as I found myself pondering those very intentions myself.

What were Orson and I doing? Where was this headed?

The rational part of my brain screamed that it was too soon to be thinking about anything long-term.

We’d only just gotten together, for god’s sake.

But another part, a part that seemed to be growing louder by the minute, whispered that this was different. That Orson was different. Special.

I glanced over at him as he laughed at something his sister said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his full lips stretched into a wide smile. My heart turned over in my chest. Yeah, definitely special.