Page 43 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

FLORIS

The library was so quiet, I could hear every breath from the tiny girl sitting next to me.

And by tiny, I meant she made my one-meter-ninety-two frame feel like an actual giant.

She couldn’t have been more than a meter and a half if she stood on her tiptoes while wearing platform shoes.

But what she lacked in height, she made up for in breathing volume.

Each inhale sounded like she was trying to vacuum up all the oxygen in Massachusetts. Maybe she was secretly training to be a pearl diver? Or auditioning for the role of Darth Vader in a student production?

I should focus on my textbook instead of creating elaborate theories about my neighbor’s respiratory habits, but material science was significantly less entertaining than imagining her as a future deep-sea explorer.

Besides, how was anyone supposed to concentrate with what sounded like a miniature steam engine running at full power right next to them?

I tried to refocus on my textbook, but the words blurred together as Tiny Vader took another dramatic breath. Maybe she was practicing for an underwater opera? That could be a thing, right? Though the logistics of singing while submerged seemed questionable at best.

God, focusing was impossible with her next to me.

Orson would have no issues with it, of course.

He was able to keep studying while I was naked in the room, which I did consider a bit of an insult, to be honest. But it was one of the quirks that made him so adorkable, and it was hard to be upset with him. Make that impossible.

Everything about him was adorable and sweet and perfect.

How he never failed to remind me of appointments and tests I had, of due dates for papers.

That he set a second alarm because he knew I often slept through the first or fell right back asleep.

How he’d leave coffee on my desk during late-night study sessions without saying a word, just a quiet acknowledgment that I needed it.

The way he scrunched his nose when concentrating, though he denied doing it.

His wild curls that defied gravity almost as much as mine did, and how he’d absently push his glasses up when deep in thought.

Even his obsessive organization and triple-checking of calculations had become endearing to me.

Because that was Orson: thorough, careful, always making sure everything was perfect.

Not because anyone demanded it of him, but because that’s who he was.

He approached everything with that same intense focus, whether it was studying for exams or loving me.

And god, did he love me well, with a depth and steadiness that made my heart ache in the best possible way.

I was happy. Happier than I had ever thought possible, and it was all because of him. Even the stress of the press coverage hadn’t diminished that, though, in all fairness, the articles about us had mostly been positive.

The American media had loved it, of course, a middle-class guy attracting the attention of an actual prince.

The comparisons with Grace Kelly had been easy to make, and Orson had been mortified, lamenting that he didn’t even possess an ounce of her grace and anyone who expected that from him would be highly disappointed.

The British tabloids, however, had been all too happy to use that damn video to cast doubts about the nature of our relationship. God, would that video ever go away? It had been over a year, and it was still haunting me.

My phone buzzed quietly, and I smiled, thinking it was Orson. But then I saw who was calling, and my heart skipped a beat. Margriet wouldn’t call unless it was urgent, which meant that something was wrong. I declined the call, then quickly texted her.

Will call you right back. Can’t talk here.

I gathered my things in a rush, then rushed past Tiny Vader, who sent me an annoyed look. Like she had any right to be disturbed by my exit.

As soon as I was outside, I hit the call button. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Margriet said quickly. “It’s good news, actually, but I did want you to see it before the press asked you about it.”

“Oh?”

“Jason Heald came forward.”

My heart stopped. “Jason… What?”

“He released a statement about the video. He’s coming clean, Floris. About everything.”

I sank onto a nearby bench, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. “Why now?”

“He says he couldn’t stay silent anymore, not when the press is dragging up the video again in their coverage of you and Orson. He didn’t want your new relationship tainted by those old lies.”

My hands were shaking. After all this time, after the months of speculation and accusations, after I’d kept his secret even when it cost me my reputation…

“I’m sending you the link to his video statement now. Do you want me to stay on the line while you watch it?”

I swallowed hard. “No, I… I need to process this alone. But thank you.”

“Call me after, okay? We’ll need to prepare a response.”

I nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Okay.”

The link appeared in my messages as soon as we hung up. I stared at it for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of me wanted to ignore it, to pretend this wasn’t happening. Things were so good with Orson, with my life here. Did I really want to revisit that night?

But I had to know.

The video opened on Jason’s face, looking more serious than I’d ever seen him. Gone was the carefully crafted celebrity persona, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“I need to set the record straight,” he began, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in his shoulders.

“A little over a year ago, a video surfaced of Prince Floris van Oranje Nassau and me outside a London club. The media painted it as an assault, suggesting he had forced himself on me. Those accusations were completely false.”

My breath caught. After all this time…

“The truth is, I wanted that kiss. I initiated it. But I was terrified of being outed, of what it would do to my career. So when the edited video appeared, I stayed silent. I let Floris take the blame rather than face my own truth. ”

Jason’s face on my phone screen blurred as tears filled my eyes.

“Floris showed incredible integrity by refusing to out me, even when it meant enduring public criticism and judgment. He protected my secret at great personal cost, and I can never fully repay that kindness.” He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

“But I can’t stay silent anymore. Not when I see the press trying to use that incident to cast doubt on his current relationship.

Prince Floris and Orson Ritchey deserve to build their life together without the shadow of my cowardice hanging over them. ”

My hands were shaking so badly, I could barely hold the phone. After all this time, after the headlines and whispers and sideways looks, after learning to live with people thinking the worst of me…

“I am gay,” Jason continued, his voice growing stronger.

“I’ve known it for years but was too afraid to acknowledge it publicly.

That night with Floris wasn’t an assault.

It was a moment of courage that I immediately regretted, not because of him, but because of my own fears.

He has carried the weight of my silence for far too long, and I am deeply sorry for that. ”

The video ended with Jason looking directly into the camera, his expression sincere. “Floris, if you’re watching this, thank you. For protecting me when I couldn’t protect myself, for bearing the burden of my secret with grace. You deserved better, and I hope this truth brings you some peace.”

I sat there for a long moment after the video ended, tears rolling down my cheeks. All the anger and hurt I’d carried, all the times I’d wanted to scream the truth but couldn’t—it was finally over. The truth was out there.

My phone buzzed again, this time with a text from Orson.

Orson

Are you okay? I saw the video.

Of course he had. Everyone probably had by now.

Me

I don’t know. Can you come find me? I’m on the bench by the library.

Orson

On my way.

Less than two minutes later, I heard familiar footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Orson hurrying toward me, his wild curls even messier than usual, like he’d been running his hands through them in agitation. The concern in his eyes made fresh tears well up in mine.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting beside me and immediately pulling me close. “I’m here.”

I buried my face in his neck, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s over. After all this time, it’s finally over.”

His arms tightened around me. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.” I laughed wetly. “Relieved? Angry? Grateful? All of the above?” I pulled back enough to look at him. “Part of me wants to be mad at him for waiting so long, but I understand why he couldn’t come out before. And the fact that he did it now, to protect us…”

“To protect you,” Orson corrected gently. “He saw how much that video hurt you, how it’s still affecting you even now.”

I wiped at my eyes. “God, I must look a mess.”

“You look perfect.” He brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. “And brave. And strong. And like someone who kept another person’s secret even when it cost him everything. ”

“Not everything.” I caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I still got you, didn’t I?”

His smile was soft, understanding. “Yes, you did. Though I have to admit, seeing that video was difficult. Knowing what they said about you, how they twisted things…”

“Hey.” I squeezed his hand. “That’s over now. The truth is out there.”

“What happens next?”

“Margriet wants to prepare a response.” I sighed, leaning against him. “Something gracious and forgiving, probably. Show that there are no hard feelings.”

“Are there?” Orson’s voice was careful, analytical. “Hard feelings, I mean?”

I thought about it. “No,” I said finally.

“Not really. I wish he’d come forward sooner, but I understand why he couldn’t.

Coming out is personal. It has to happen on your own terms, in your own time.

And as a celebrity, it’s a thousand times harder.

As much as people like to pretend it’s okay to be gay nowadays, that’s not always the case.

Careers have been sunk over coming out.”

“You’re too forgiving,” Orson said softly, but his tone was admiring rather than critical. “He let you suffer through all those accusations, all those headlines…”

“And now he’s facing his own headlines.” I turned to look at him properly. “Coming out is never easy, even when you’re ready. Doing it like this, in such a public way, to protect someone else? That takes courage.”

Orson’s fingers traced patterns on my palm, a habit he’d developed when thinking deeply. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’re not only saying it because it’s the diplomatic thing.”

“I mean it.” I leaned against him, drawing strength from his steady presence. “Besides, in a weird way, that video led me here. To you. ”

His brow furrowed adorably. “How do you figure that?”

“After everything that happened, I needed to escape. To find somewhere I could be myself, without the weight of those accusations following me around.” I smiled, remembering our first meeting. “So I came here, became your roommate, and proceeded to drive you crazy with my terrible laundry habits.”

That startled a laugh out of him. “You still drive me crazy with your laundry habits.”

“Yeah, but now you love me anyway.”

“I do.” He kissed my temple softly. “So what do you want to do now?”

I pulled out my phone, looking at the missed calls from Margriet. “I should call her back, work on that statement. But first…” I opened my camera and held it up. “Smile!”

“What? No!” Orson tried to duck away, but I caught him around the waist. “I look terrible in photos!”

“You look perfect,” I corrected, snapping a quick picture of us together. His wild curls tousled from the wind, his glasses slightly askew, and his cheeks pink from the cold. He looked absolutely beautiful.

I posted the photo to my official Instagram account—the one I rarely used but which had millions of followers—with a simple caption:

Truth and love win. Jason, thank you for your courage. Wishing you nothing but joy and peace as you embrace who you are. Moving forward with gratitude and joy, surrounded by love that makes everything else fade away.

Orson peered at my phone, his eyes widening. “Are you sure about this? Posting us together? ”

“Absolutely.” I pressed another kiss to his temple. “Let them see what real love looks like. No editing, no accusations, just us.”

His smile was soft, a little shy but genuine. “You’re going to make me blush in front of millions of followers.”

“Good.” I grinned, watching the likes and comments already pouring in. “Though I should warn you, my mom’s probably going to frame this photo and hang it in the palace. She’s been not-so-subtly hinting that she needs more pictures of us.”

“Oh god.” He buried his face in my shoulder. “Your mother, the princess, wants to frame a photo where my hair looks like I’ve been electrocuted?”

“Your hair always looks like that,” I teased. “It’s part of your charm.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah.” He lifted his head to meet my eyes, his expression serious despite his smile. “I really do.”

My phone buzzed again. It was Margriet, probably wondering why I hadn’t called back yet.

But for once, the press and protocols and proper statements could wait.

Right now, all I wanted was this moment, with this beautiful, brilliant man who loved me not despite my complications but with all of them.

The truth was finally out there. And so were we.