In Bed With Her Shithead Boss (By Ellie Wynters) novel Chapter 284

The plane touched down with barely a bump. Through the window, Keira could see a line of black cars waiting on the tarmac, along with what looked like a small army of officials and security personnel.

"Showtime," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

"Remember," Alexei said as the plane taxied to a stop, "no matter what happens, no matter what my father says or does, you belong here. With me."

She wanted to believe him. God, how she wanted to believe him. But as the engines wound down and she saw the land crew approaching the plane through the window, all she could think was that she was about to step into a world where one wrong move could destroy everything.

The first thing that struck Keira as she stepped off the plane was the sheer formality of it all. A red carpet had been rolled out across the tarmac, flanked by men in military dress uniforms standing at rigid attention. The late afternoon sun caught the gold braiding on their jackets, making them gleam like something from a movie set. Was this how Alexei was received every time he came home. It seemed a little over the top to her.

Alexei descended first, his posture shifting subtly as his feet touched Wystovian soil. The casual man from the plane vanished, replaced by a prince returning home. He turned back to offer her his hand, and Keira forced herself to take it despite her sweating palms.

"Breathe," he murmured as she joined him on the tarmac. He read her so easily, and that worried the shit out of her. Did he know she loved him?

"I'm breathing," she whispered back, though her voice sounded tight even to her own ears.

Mitchell appeared beside them, his expression even more professional than usual. "Your Highness, I have just been informed, His Majesty is waiting in his vehicle."

Shit, she hadn't expected him to meet them off the plane. She thought she had time and now time had just run out.

Keira's eyes went to the impressive motorcade lined up beyond the honor guard. Black Mercedes sedans with darkly tinted windows, each one identical. She couldn't tell which one held the King of Wystovia, and something told her that was intentional.

As they walked toward the cars, Keira became acutely aware of being watched. Not just by the military personnel, but by the small group of palace officials clustered near the vehicles. Their faces were neutral, but she could feel their assessment like a weight on her shoulders.

"Miss Warner," Mitchell said quietly as they approached the motorcade, "the King has requested that you ride separately for the journey to the palace."

Keira's step faltered. "Separately?"

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