“I know. It’s perfect,” Kyril said.
“This isn’t what I want.”
Kyril’s mouth dropped open. “Tell me you’re joking.”
Hannah’s mind raced. She simply couldn’t live with someone who controlled every aspect of her life like this. It would drive her insane. She needed some autonomy, some small power over her life, and she felt it slipping through her fingers with every moment she spent on the yacht.
Hannah gave Kyril the business card back and stood up, straightening her back. “Thank you very much for the escape.” She looked him straight in the eye. “It was wonderful. But when we return to the palace, things have to change.”
“What?”
“Either you and your family need to give me some space to live my life, or I’m going to move out of the palace.” It was the right decision. She knew it the moment the words left her lips.
Kyril scoffed. “That won’t be possible. It’s not safe for you outside the palace now. You’re a member of the royal family, pregnant with a possible heir, and that makes you both targets.” He stood up, the distance between them miles wide. “It’s my duty to protect you. I need to keep you safe, and that means I need to keep you close…or at least in approved surroundings.”
It was as if he hadn’t heard her at all.
Hannah’s chest went tight and cold. She was an adult woman. Getting married didn’t make her Kyril’s property, or his duty. The icy freeze in her chest was replaced by a scorching anger, and her face went hot. It must be tomato red—she could feel it in her cheeks.
With a burst of horror, she saw the rest of her life laid out before her. Kyril, always seizing control. Her own being shrinking to the size of a ceremonial figure. The walls of the palace would seem more like a prison. All that space outside in the gardens—it was only an illusion if she could never truly leave. Living in the palace was lovely, predictable, and boring, and the yacht was taking her back to that place as quickly as it could. She wanted out. A place to breathe. A place to run. But they were in the middle of the sea.
That didn’t mean she had to stay in this suite with Kyril.
“When we get back,” Hannah said evenly, “I’m moving out of the palace. Until you can see me as a person who can take care of myself—an adult—I refuse to be smothered like this. I’m done.”
Kyril took one step toward her. “Hannah—”
She raised a hand in the air, stopping him. “I’m done.” She wouldn’t raise their child to be a hothouse flower, overprotected and fragile. And she wouldn't live that way herself. “I’ll allow our marriage to stand, because I know it’s important for our baby to have access to both parents. But this, between us?” Hannah stood her ground. “The romance is over.”
Hannah walked out, heading directly for one of the smaller suites on the yacht. Her heart sank with every step.
To her disgust, she’d been right. She’d been right all along that marrying simply for residency, for parental rights, had been the best idea. She should have stuck to her guns, stayed independent, made her own plans. Married in legal status only.
And worst of all?
Kyril didn’t love her. He only wanted to do his duty. All his charms—they were a false front, and she’d fallen for it.
Hannah closed the door behind her, fell onto the bed, and cried.
17
The suite in the palace was made awful by Hannah’s absence. Kyril felt the emptiness sink into his lungs with every breath. Every painful breath.
She’d stayed true to her word. When they’d docked at the port, she’d insisted on leaving without him, taking a cab to a hotel. He didn’t know which one she was at yet, but he’d sent Hameen after her—how could he not?—and was certain the man would report in when she was settled in her room. Kyril hated this helplessness. He hoped Hameen had the sense to suggest one of the better hotels in the city, one with security.
It hurt him, feeling so helpless. His skin felt rough and sensitive, and being in the suite they’d shared wasn’t helping.
He’d made a mistake.
Many mistakes.
That much was clear.
But which mistake, exactly, had pushed her to leave him like this? He could understand her need for freedom—he’d wished for the same thing as a teenager, when royal responsibility had chafed like a tight collar. There were plenty of times when he’d wished for a different life. A less conspicuous life. Over time, Kyril had come to see that responsibility as a blessing. He could make people’s lives better on a grand scale, and that wasn’t a privilege granted to just anyone.
He’d wanted to make Hannah’s life better. Was that so wrong? He’d wanted to protect her.
Perhaps he should have protected her from his mother and sister. They’d swooped in on her with the wedding planning, giving her hardly any room to breathe. Kyril didn’t relish a confrontation with his mother, much less when she was parked with his sister.