Page 80 of Prince Material
“Relax,lieverd. I’m teasing.” He squeezed my hand. “Though you’re adorable when you blush.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help smiling. Even with my anxiety about facing the press, Floris had this way of making everything feel manageable.
The chapel came into view, a beautiful Gothic Revival building with tall spires reaching toward the winter sky. A crowd had already gathered outside, cameras and microphones at the ready. My steps faltered slightly.
“Hey.” Floris stopped, turning to face me. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”
I took a deep breath, drawing strength from his steady presence. “No, I want to. They’re going to be part of our lives no matter what. Better to face them on our terms.”
His smile was proud and tender. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“You might have mentioned it once or twice.” I straightened my shoulders, adjusting my glasses. “Let’s do this.”
Nathan and Tim moved ahead of us, creating a path through the press. Cameras clicked rapidly as we approached, but the security team kept the reporters at a respectful distance. Floris’s hand was warm and steady in mine as we reached the chapel steps.
This was it. Time to face our new reality together.
Oh god, the number of reporters and photographers had tripled, and they were now joined by several people with cameras. Like, TV cameras. Thank god I didn’t have to do anything. My hand was sweaty in Floris’s as we walked to the front of the room, where Floris let go of my hand and took place behind a lectern.
“Good evening, everyone,” he said, sounding as calm as if he was talking to a friend. “We have a brief statement to make.” He raised his chin. “My name is Prince Floris Willem Maurits van Oranje Nassau, and I’m a nephew of King Friso of the Netherlands.I have been attending Vernon Technical College since August of last year as part of my degree in civil engineering, and so far, it has been an enjoyable and enriching experience. I’m deeply grateful to Dean Carlotta, the staff of VTC, and the campus police for allowing me to fly under the radar and get to experience real life as a college student. That’s a gift I will always cherish.”
He then looked at me, and I stepped forward and took his hand.
“I’m even more grateful that I have met Orson Ritchey, a civil engineering student from New Orleans, who has helped me settle in and find my way. He has made my life better in countless ways, and I’m proud to have him by my side… as my boyfriend.”
That last word triggered a furious round of photos, the incessant shutters sounding like gun shots. I winced, holding on to him a little tighter.
“While I have always been in the public eye as part of the Dutch royal family, Orson and his family are not used to this media attention. I ask for your understanding and your compassion and kindness as he adjusts to life in the spotlight.” He blew out a breath. “I will now answer a few questions.”
My heart nearly stopped. Questions? We hadn’t discussed taking questions. I squeezed Floris’s hand, probably harder than I should have, but he squeezed back reassuringly.
“Your Highness!” Several reporters called out at once, hands shooting up like eager students in class. Floris pointed to a woman in the front row.
“How long have you been together?”
“We became friends shortly after the semester started, and our relationship developed naturally from there.” Floris’s voice was steady, professional.
“Mr. Ritchey!” Another reporter called out. “How did you feel when you discovered Prince Floris’s true identity?”
I froze, but Floris spoke before I could panic. “Orson isn’t answering questions today, but I will say that he’s known who I am from the start.”
The reporters seemed to multiply before my eyes, their voices overlapping as they called out questions. Floris handled them with practiced ease, deflecting the more personal ones and answering others with diplomatic skill that would’ve impressed his etiquette instructors.
“What does your family think of the relationship?”
“My family is very supportive,” Floris said, and I heard the genuine warmth in his voice. “They’re looking forward to meeting Orson in person.”
“And what about the British tabloids’ claims about your past?—”
“We’re not here to discuss past media fabrications,” Floris cut in smoothly, his tone cooling several degrees. “I think we’ve taken enough questions for today. Thank you all for coming.”
Nathan and Tim moved forward immediately, creating a barrier between us and the press as we made our way back through the chapel. The reporters called out more questions, but they seemed distant now, like background noise.
Once we were safely back in our room, I collapsed onto my bed, my legs feeling like jelly. “That was…”
“Intense?” Floris sat beside me, pulling me close. “You did great, though. Very stoic and dignified.”
“I didn’t do anything except stand there trying not to throw up.”
