Page 7 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)

ORSON

The Vernon Tech library surrounded me like a cathedral of learning, all polished wood and towering shelves that disappeared into shadowy heights.

Light streamed through tall, arched windows, highlighting dust motes that danced in the air.

The quiet murmur of students and the subtle creaking of old wood created that particular library atmosphere that usually calmed me, but today, even that couldn’t ease my frustration.

I stared at my laptop screen until the words blurred together, the feedback from Professor Chen burning into my retinas.

While your technical analysis is sound, the project management approach lacks practical consideration of real-world variables…

Real-world variables. Because I knew nothing about those.

My hands clenched into fists under the table.

I’d spent hours on this assignment, triple-checking every calculation, reviewing every detail.

But somehow, I’d still missed something crucial.

The weight of disappointment settled heavy in my chest, mixing with that familiar guilt.

How could I ever hope to succeed in the real world when I couldn’t even do it in a college-level assignment?

Project management was a required course, and though I hated it, I could see the crucial importance of it. It sucked that I was so bad at it.

“There you are!”

I jumped at Floris’s voice, nearly knocking over my coffee. He dropped into the chair across from me with his usual grace, all long limbs and easy smile. Today, he wore a soft-looking, navy T-shirt that made his green eyes even more striking. Not that I was noticing things like that.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “You missed dinner.”

I clicked away from the feedback. “Not hungry.”

“Liar. You’ve been here since your last class ended. That’s…” He checked his phone. “Five hours ago.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.” His tone made it clear he didn’t believe me. “That’s why you’re trying to murder your laptop with your stare.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up to rub my tired eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nope.” He popped the “p” sound, settling in like he planned to stay awhile. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Right.” He leaned forward, those green eyes far too perceptive. “And I’m the King of England.”

The absurdity of that statement, coming from an actual prince, almost made me smile. Almost. “It’s…” I hesitated, but something in his expression made me continue. “Got some feedback on my project management assignment. It wasn’t great.”

“Define ‘wasn’t great.’ ”

When I showed him the screen, his eyebrows shot up.

“That’s what has you looking like someone killed your puppy? These are good comments.”

“Good?” I scoffed. “She said it lacks practical consideration of real-world variables.”

“Yeah, but your technical analysis was sound. So you’re missing some parts, big deal. It’s not like she wants you to rewrite the whole thing. Let me read it.”

Before I could protest, he’d moved his chair around to my side of the table.

He leaned in to read, and I caught a whiff of that subtle cologne he wore.

It was as distracting as everything else about him.

For all the focus I prided myself on, I had a hard time ignoring him, especially when we were in our room. He drew my eyes like a magnet.

“Ah,” he said after a few minutes. “I see what she means.”

“What?”

“You’ve covered all the technical risks perfectly, but you haven’t considered the human element enough.

” His finger traced down the screen. “Like here. You’ve accounted for material failures and structural stress, but what about worker safety?

Communication breakdowns? Cultural differences between teams? ”

I blinked. “How do you know about project management?”

He snorted. “My whole life has been nothing but project management, though maybe not quite as technical as this. But management does come naturally to me.”

“Right.” I’d almost forgotten who he was, which was probably exactly what he wanted. “I guess royal duties involve a lot of coordination.”

“You have no idea.” His voice held a hint of something darker, but it vanished quickly. “Look, you’ve got all the technical aspects nailed, but projects don’t exist in a vacuum. People are messy. They miscommunicate, they have bad days, they make assumptions.”

I frowned at the screen. “But those are variables I can’t control.”

“Exactly.” His eyes lit up with understanding. “That’s what scares you, isn’t it? The unpredictable human element?”

The observation hit too close to home. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I prefer working with numbers. They don’t lie. They don’t make mistakes.”

“No, but people do. And people are who we’re building for.

” His voice was gentle but firm. “The most brilliant engineering solution in the world won’t work if the people implementing it don’t understand it, if cultural differences create communication barriers, or if budget constraints force shortcuts. ”

I wanted to argue, but he had a point. “So what would you suggest?”

“Add a section about stakeholder management. Communication protocols. Cultural considerations if you’re working with international teams.” His fingers flew across the keyboard as he made notes for me. “Training requirements, safety protocols, contingency plans for human error.”

The suggestions were actually… good. Really good.

“You’ve done this before.”

He laughed softly. “I’ve seen my share of projects go sideways because someone forgot to account for the human factor. Did you know we once had a visiting dignitary almost cause an international incident because no one told him we eat our famous herring raw?”

I blinked. “Like sushi, raw?”

“Like, served with diced onions and holding it by the tail, then lowering it into your mouth, raw. ”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me? That doesn’t sound appetizing in the least.”

He leaned in. “It’s disgusting. But don’t ever tell anyone I said that. They’d revoke my Dutch citizenship for blasphemy like that.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “No, they wouldn’t.”

He winked at me. “You don’t know that. We take our raw herring very seriously.” He grinned, then turned serious again. “My point is, technical excellence is crucial, but it’s not everything. The best engineers are the ones who understand that they’re building for people.”

His words struck something in me: a truth I’d been avoiding. I’d focused so hard on the technical aspects because they were safe, predictable. Unlike people. Unlike that day on the roof when human decisions had meant the difference between life and death.

“It’s hard for me. These kinds of courses. And I want to get it right.”

“I know.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “But maybe perfect isn’t always possible. Maybe sometimes, good enough, with room for human factors, is better than technical perfection that doesn’t account for reality.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him. Gone was the carefree prince persona he usually wore. Instead, I saw someone who understood more than he let on, who carried his own weight of expectations and fears.

“Want to help me revise this?” I asked before I could think better of it.

His smile lit up his whole face. “Thought you’d never ask.”

For the next hour, Floris helped me restructure my project plan, adding layers I hadn’t even considered. He had an uncanny knack for spotting potential human complications, probably from years of navigating royal protocols and diplomatic relations. It was eye-opening.

“See here?” He pointed at a section about resource allocation. “You need to consider language barriers, different time zones if you’re working internationally, even religious or holiday schedules in different countries. Like the Fourth of July here.”

“Or Mardi Gras back home.”

“Oh?” His eyes lit up with interest. “I’ve heard of Mardi Gras. It’s like a parade, right?”

“It’s hard to explain. Beautiful and chaotic and probably something you have to experience to understand. The whole city transforms. People throw beads from floats, there’s music everywhere, and everyone eats king cake until they’re sick.”

“King cake?” He perked up. “Finally, a cake fit for my station.”

“Not that kind of king.” I found myself smiling despite my earlier mood. “It’s named for the three kings who visited baby Jesus. There’s a plastic baby hidden inside, and if you get it in your slice, you have to buy the next cake.”

“You hide plastic babies in cake?” He looked genuinely horrified. “That seems highly unsafe, not to mention a tad creepy.”

“Says the guy who eats raw fish by dangling it over his mouth.”

“Touché.” He laughed, then gestured back at my screen. “Speaking of cultural differences, that’s exactly the kind of thing you need to consider in project management. What seems normal to you might be bizarre to someone else.”

He had a point. I added a section about cultural awareness and communication protocols, surprised by how naturally the words flowed now that I had a different perspective. “This was really helpful. Thanks.”

“Any time.” His smile was warm, genuine in a way his usual polished one wasn’t. “Though I do accept payment in the form of coffee or those beignets you keep talking about.”

“Deal.” The word was out before I could stop it. “I mean, if you want. Not that you have to?—”

“Orson.” He cut off my rambling with gentle amusement. “I want to. Besides, someone needs to teach you that there’s life outside this library.”

“I have a life,” I protested weakly.

“Really? When’s the last time you did something for fun?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. When was the last time? Between classes, studying, and my self-imposed pressure to excel, I couldn’t remember.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice held no judgment, only understanding. “Look, I’m not saying you need to go wild. But it’s okay to take a break sometimes. To let yourself breathe.”