Page 67 of Unholy Tsar

“But I’m not a queen.” I’m not even a princess. I’m nothing.

The look Maksim gives me steals my breath away.

“No, you’re not, dushen’ka. Not yet.”

For a moment, I can’t seem to find my breath again, but when I finally do, my mind starts racing almost as fast as my pounding heart.

What does he mean not yet?

24

CECILIA

After spending some quality time in the shower—getting distracted by other pleasurable activities while washing each other's bodies—we finally leave the hotel. And since the penthouse is permanently reserved for Maksim, we didn’t even have to check out; how cool is that?

Everything’s a bit of a blur as we make our way to the private tarmac where Maksim’s jet is waiting for us. Maksim takes a few minutes to talk to the pilot and the crew while I buckle myself into a seat in our private cabin.

By the time we take off, I’m dying for lunch. The ‘exercise’ I got in the shower really worked up an appetite.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Maksim observes from his seat across the aisle. I could say the same thing about him. Despite how busy he clearly is, he looks relaxed and satisfied.

I shrug. “I think it’s finally starting to sink in.”

“What is?”

“Well, the idea that I don’t have to run anymore…”

It’s still hard to believe. I never thought the day would come.

Maksim shoots me a big smile as the stewardess rolls in with our lunch. It somehow looks even better than the food at the hotel restaurant.

Shit, a girl could get used to all this. “You’re really spoiling me.”

“It’s nothing less than what you deserve.” He rolls up his sleeves, and I can’t help but admire his thick, tattoo-covered forearms before I dig in. Goddamn, this man is something else.

As expected, the food is amazing. We barely talk while we eat, but there isn’t a moment of awkwardness. When did I get so comfortable with him?

After finishing my meal, I lean back in my seat and pat my belly. “Delicious. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome, dushen’ka.”

His use of the new pet name reminds me to google the meaning.

Sweetheart.

My heart flutters, and I smile. Looks like I graduated from little mouse to little girl to sweetheart. I have to bite my lip to hold back the squeal bubbling up at the back of my throat, but I’m unable to do anything about my tapping feet.

“What is it?” Maksim asks, staring at my restless toes with a raised brow. “Excited about something?”

Excited to be called sweetheart, yes. It’s silly, really, how giddy I am right now. It’s hard to stay still in my seat, and I’m not sure how I’m going to survive the remaining ten hours we have before we touchdown in Russia.

“Want to watch a movie with me?” I suggest, and he shrugs. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.” There’s a huge flatscreen TV mounted across from the luxurious bed.

Maksim wiggles his brows at me suggestively as we unbuckle our belts, and I laugh. “To watch a movie. Why are you so insatiable?”

“You make me this way, woman,” he growls playfully, giving my butt a love tap. I giggle. Giggle. Like some schoolgirl. What is this man doing to me?

As we enter the bedroom, he turns on the TV while I draw down the blinds to dim the room and create a cozy vibe. Then I sink onto the mattress. Maksim joins me, pulling me to his chest and handing me the remote.