Page 61 of Bride By Coronation
Arina curtsies and chirps, "Your Majesty. Back so soon?"
"Yes." I glance at my watch, feeling antsy. There shouldn't be any time restraints, but I'll feel better when I arrive in Pompeii. So I add, "As soon as the package is delivered, bring it to me. And please let the pilot know I want to take off as soon as it arrives."
"Yes, sir," she replies and disappears.
I swallow a mouthful of vodka, cringing from the burn, and lift the shade. The runway is quiet, and the sun has already set. There are no other planes, but it's a hidden airfield reserved for the king's special guests, so it's nothing unusual.
I finish my drink, pull out my phone, and read my messages, replying to a few.
Arina interjects, "Sir, the package." She holds a black box with the king's seal in the corner and a gold ribbon tied around it.
My pulse increases. I take the box from her and nod. "Thank you."
"Sure." She glances at the box with curiosity.
"You're excused," I state, unwilling to share anything with her, especially before Fiona sees it.
She smiles and slips into her designated space.
The tension in my stomach grows. I carefully undo the bow, lift the lid, and pull out a glass box. The tiara rests on a white pillow, with the emeralds displayed around it. I carefully remove it, then gently run my finger over the gold, imagining Fiona in it, along with her dress.
Then, my mind torments me. All I can think about is her in the tiara, wearing the lingerie, with my fingers around her neck, and the same heat I saw in the snowstorm burning in her green eyes.
Images of her wearing the pearls, the emeralds, a combination of the two, and nothing at all appear like a movie trailer on repeat. Every image makes me harder until my cock strains against my zipper and my blood boils, rushing through my veins.
The pilot announces we're taking off.
I put the tiara back in the glass case and into the black box.
Shit. How am I going to get that ribbon to look how it did?
I groan, annoyed with my current circumstances.
We're in the air within minutes, and the plane levels off. I hit the call button.
Arina appears. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Any chance you know how to recreate the bow that was on this?" I probe, pointing at the box.
"Sure. May I?" she asks.
I pick up the box and affirm, "Please. Sit."
She obeys, and I hand her the box and ribbon. She secures it around all the edges, then says, "I need your finger."
"My finger?"
Her lips twitch. "Yep. I promise you'll get it back."
I chuckle, then hold my pointer out.
She presses it over the ribbon, and within a few moments, it looks like how it did when it arrived.
"Thank you," I sincerely offer.
She beams. "No problem. May I ask a question?"
"Sure."
