Page 84 of Prince Material
I snorted. “I don’t know about that.”
“Hmm, let’s talk about my performance, then. Did I wholly satisfy you? Ten out of ten, would do it again?”
I laughed breathlessly. “Twelve out of ten, gold star, highly recommend. Though I might need you to keep proving yourself, just to be sure.”
“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” He leaned in and kissed me, soft and lingering. “Anything for my loyal subject.”
“Oh, is that what I am now?” I teased. “And here I thought I was the chosen consort.”
“Why not both?” He pulled me into his arms, nuzzling into my neck. “My subject, my consort, my everything.”
I really liked the sound of that.
26
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 comparisonswith 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 andOrson. He didn’t want your new relationship tainted by those old lies.”
