Page 38 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

FLORIS

I couldn’t sit still. Not after that phone call. Not after hearing those three words from Orson’s lips, words I’d been dying to hear but hadn’t dared hope for. The need to see him, to hold him, to kiss him senseless, was overwhelming.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Laurens said, watching me pace around my room. “It’s the day after Christmas. Every flight will be packed.”

“I don’t care.” I grabbed my phone, already pulling up airline websites. “I’ll sit in the cargo hold if I have to. I mean, I’ve survived the dorm washing machines. Pretty sure I can handle being shipped as oversized luggage.”

“The press will notice.”

“I’ll try to keep a low profile, but yes, they may, though it will take them a while to figure out why I’m heading to New Orleans specifically.

And as long as we’re careful once I’m there, they shouldn’t be able to spot me with him.

” I looked up at my brother, knowing my expression was probably a bit wild.

“But at some point, they’re gonna find out.

I love him, Laurens. And he loves me back. ”

“You’ll have to prepare him.”

“I will, but he knows. I’ve never kept this from him… and he still chose to get involved with me, for reasons passing all understanding.”

Laurens tried to maintain his serious expression, but I caught the twitch of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly charming, you mean.” I ran a hand through my hair, probably making it stand up in all directions.

“His uncle said some awful things to him yesterday. About how he doesn’t belong in my world, how he’s betraying his father’s memory by being with me.

And all I could think was how wrong that was, how perfect he is, how much I needed to be there and tell him that in person. I need to do this, need to see him.”

My brother studied me for a long moment, then pulled out his own phone. “I’ll call our travel planner. She might be able to find you a first-class seat somewhere.”

“Really?” I stopped pacing. “You’re going to help?”

“Of course I am.” He smiled. “Someone has to make sure you don’t end up actually trying to sneak into the cargo hold.”

Two hours later, I was in a car heading to Schiphol Airport, a hastily packed bag beside me.

Laurens had worked miracles and found me a first-class ticket to New Orleans with only one short layover, in New York.

I caught up on some reading on the flight to New York, and later on, messaged with Orson as he woke up.

I hadn’t told him I was coming, wanting to surprise him, though I’d texted his mom to make sure he’d be home.

Diana had responded enthusiastically, even offering to pick me up from the airport, but I’d insisted on getting an Uber.

She was already doing me a huge favor by keeping my arrival a secret from Orson.

Luckily, one of the privileges I had as a member of the Dutch royal family was a diplomatic passport, which meant I didn’t have to go through the usual long line at border patrol everyone else was subjected to.

I made my connecting flight with ease, getting a nap in on the last leg, so I would at least arrive somewhat fresh.

I caught some people snapping pictures of me, both at Schiphol Airport and at JFK, but they all looked like Dutch tourists, not press or paparazzi. Hopefully, it would take a while before those pics made their way to the internet.

The New Orleans air hit me with an unexpected chill as I stepped out of Louis Armstrong International Airport.

Even in December, the city rarely got truly cold, I had learned from previous research, but today was an exception.

The forecasted temperature was barely above freezing.

At least the humidity was taking a break, giving my hair a temporary reprieve from its usual rebellion against gravity.

The Uber ride to their house felt simultaneously too long and too short.

The driver seemed to sense I wasn’t in the mood for conversation and put on some Louis Armstrong, which seemed fitting.

My heart raced with anticipation, my palms sweaty.

What if this was too much, too soon? What if showing up unannounced was crossing a line?

But then I remembered his voice on the phone yesterday, the way he’d said, “I love you too,” like the words were being pulled from somewhere deep inside him, and all doubt vanished. This was exactly where I needed to be.

The Uber pulled up to the familiar yellow house, Christmas lights twinkling along the porch railings. I grabbed my bag, thanked the driver, and took a deep breath before walking up to the door.

Diana opened it before I could knock, pulling me into a warm hug. “You wonderful boy,” she whispered. “He’s going to be so happy to see you. ”

“Where is he?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“In his room, studying of course.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Some things never change. Go on up.”

I took the stairs as quietly as possible, my heart pounding against my ribs. The door to Orson’s room was partially open, and I could see him sitting at his desk, wild curls falling over his forehead as he bent over what looked like a textbook. The sight made my chest tight with emotion.

God, I loved him. Every careful, brilliant, overthinking inch of him.

I knocked softly on the doorframe. “So this is what civil engineers do on their Christmas break? Study more?”

Orson’s head snapped up, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Floris?” Orson stared at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “How… What are you…”

“Surprise?” I managed, drinking in the sight of him.

His hair was even wilder than usual, like he’d been running his hands through it while studying.

He wore that soft, green sweater I loved, the one that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes, and his glasses were slightly askew in that way that always made me want to reach out and straighten them.

He stood up so quickly, his chair nearly toppled over. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I couldn’t stay away.” I stepped into the room, letting my bag drop to the floor. “Not after yesterday. Not after what you said.”

“What I…” His eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You flew all the way here because I said I love you?”

“Because you said you love me, because your uncle was an ass, because I needed to see you.” I moved closer, drawn to him like gravity. “Because I love you too, and saying it over the phone wasn’t enough.”

Orson made a soft sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and then he was moving too, meeting me halfway. His hands came up to frame my face as our lips met, and everything else fell away: the journey, the press, the complications. None of it mattered except this, except us.

I pulled him closer, one hand tangling in those wild curls while the other wrapped around his waist. He tasted like coffee and something sweet, probably the remains of Christmas cookies, and his body fit against mine like it was made to be there.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, I rested my forehead against his.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He laughed, the sound warm and real. “Hi yourself. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Where else would I be?” I brushed a curl from his forehead, savoring the ability to touch him again. “The second you told me you loved me, staying away became impossible.”

His eyes searched my face, those beautiful, brown depths full of emotion. “But the press… Won’t they notice?”

“They might, yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Orson’s hands tightened slightly on my shoulders. “With them finding out about us?”

“I’m more than okay with it… if you are too.” I traced his cheekbone with my thumb, memorizing the way his skin flushed at my touch. “Let them see. Let them write whatever they want. You’re worth any headline they could come up with.”

His breath caught. “Floris…”

“I mean it.” I pulled back enough to meet his eyes properly. “I’m done hiding how I feel about you. I’m done worrying about what people might say or think. I love you, Orson Ritchey, and I want the whole world to know it.”

“Even if I’m not…” He swallowed hard. “Not what they expect for someone like you? ”

“You’re exactly what I want. Who I want.” I kissed him again, soft and quick. “And anyone who can’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth our time.”

He smiled then, that rare, unguarded smile that transformed his whole face. “Thank you.”

“So you’re in? You’re okay with the possibility of this leaking?”

He pulled up his nose. “That makes it sound dirty.”

Fair point. “With the possibility of the whole world finding out about us?”

A deep breath, a flash of panic in his eyes, and then, “Yes.”

I kissed him softly on his lips. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he said quietly, like he was still getting used to the words. “I really do.”

“Good.” I grinned, pulling him closer. “Because I flew across an ocean to hear you say that in person, and it would’ve been really awkward if you’d changed your mind.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do.” His fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “But what about your family? Weren’t they upset you left so soon after arriving?”

I shrugged. “My dad was a little perturbed.” I was quite proud of learning that new word. “But my mom understood and my brother helped me book the ticket.”

“She did?”

I brushed another wayward curl from his forehead, unable to stop touching him now that I could.

“They can’t wait to meet you, by the way.

My mom’s already planning a welcome meal for you so you can try some classic Dutch food, and my dad wants to talk water management with you.

Though he might be disappointed you’re not into football. Erm, soccer.”

“That’s…” He swallowed visibly. “Terrifying.”

“They’ll love you.” I pulled him closer, breathing in his familiar scent. “How could they not?”

He buried his face in my neck, his arms tightening around me. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. “Is that crazy? It’s only been a few days.”

“If it’s crazy, then I’m crazy too.” I pressed a kiss to his temple. “I couldn’t focus on anything at home. Kept thinking about you, wondering what you were doing, if you were okay after everything with your uncle…”

“I’m better now.” He lifted his head to meet my eyes. “Much better.”

The way he looked at me, like I was something precious and wonderful, made my heart skip.

I kissed him then, unable to help myself.

He melted into it, and for several long moments, the world narrowed to this, to us: the warmth of his lips, the way his hands slid into my hair, the soft sound he made when I pulled him closer.

But then my exhaustion hit, and I yawned in the middle of the kiss, making Orson giggle.

“Sorry,” I mumbled against his lips. “Long day.”

“When did you last sleep properly?” His hands moved to frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. Those engineer’s eyes were analyzing me now, probably calculating my exact level of exhaustion based on some complex formula.

“Uh…” I tried to remember. “I got a nap on the plane?”

He shook his head, fond exasperation written across his features. “Come on.” He tugged me toward his bed. “You need rest. ”

“But I just got here,” I protested, even as another yawn escaped. “I want to spend time with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed me gently onto the bed, then bent to untie my shoes. “And you’ll be much better company after some sleep.”

I watched him, my heart so full, it felt like it might burst. This careful attention to detail, this way he had of taking care of me without making a big deal of it—it was so perfectly, uniquely Orson.

“Will you stay?” I caught his hand as he straightened up. “Lie here with me for a while?”

His expression softened. “Of course.”

We arranged ourselves on his narrow bed, me on my back with Orson curled against my side, his head on my chest. One of his hands played absently with the buttons on my shirt while I ran my fingers through his wild curls.

“This is nice,” I murmured, already feeling sleep tugging at me. “Missed this.”

I felt rather than saw his smile. “Me too.”

“Love you,” I managed through another yawn. “So much.”

His arm tightened around my waist. “I love you too. Now sleep.”

So I did, surrounded by his warmth and his scent and the steady sound of his breathing. The last thing I registered before drifting off was his soft kiss against my jaw and his whispered, “Thank you for coming.”