Page 211 of Bride By Coronation

Brax glares daggers at me.

Valentina purses her lips.

Kirill chuckles and steers me onto the plane.

Arina curtsies, greeting, "Your Majesties."

"Good to see you, Arina," I say.

She looks up, relief evident in her expression. "And you, my queen."

"Please. Rise," I say.

She smiles, obeys, and gives Kirill the same expression. "Sir."

"Everything is fine, Arina. Let's go home," he orders.

"Yes, sir. Do either of you need anything?" she asks.

"No, thank you," he replies.

"Okay." She nods.

Kirill escorts me to the back of the plane. He opens the bedroom door.

Exhausted, I step inside, go into the bathroom, and brush my teeth. I splash water on my face, untie my robe, and slide it off my shoulders. Then I return to the bedroom and slip under the covers.

Kirill hasn't moved. He stands against the door, appearing nervous.

My stomach flips. "Are you coming to bed?"

His chest fills with air. "Do you want me to?"

We have issues to work through.

I sit up. "Yes. Unless you don't want to?"

He comes over and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. Pain fills his expression.

I swallow the lump in my throat, offering, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he states.

My voice quivers as I insist, "I do. I shouldn't have run away and shut you out."

He stares at me, hesitant, his breaths short.

"Say something," I whisper.

He opens his mouth and then shuts it. He releases an anxious breath and then glances at the ceiling.

I grab his hand. "Hey!"

He meets my gaze, his eyes glistening. "I'm always going to be a Petrov, Fiona." Shame floods his sharp features.

It hurts my heart. I lean forward, wrap my arms around him, and slide my hands through his hair. I pull his face to mine, blink hard, and assert, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You aren't your father."

His face twists, and he looks toward the window.

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