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*****

THE FLIGHT BACK TOContini was quiet, the sheikh preferring to spend the entire journey in silence. He contemplated, somewhat wearily and desperately, of the things he could say, the things heshouldsay, but somehow no words seemed right. Somehow, no apology seemed enough.

What everyone had said was true.

He had asked for Kyria to prove her love to him, when in truth there shouldn’t even have been a need for her to prove it. Everything he had said about Kyria possibly finding someone else – all fucking lies.

Because the simple painful truth was – he had failed her.

He had imagined what it would be like for Kyria, had known that the disciplinary hearing would just be one of the endless ways in which the world would do its best to taint what they have and turn something precious into something vile and foul—-

Just that first sign of trouble had been enough, and he had bolted like a gutless bridegroom struck with cold feet.

And with that, he had failed her.

It didn’t matter that he had the noblest reasons and had truly believed he could never be worthy of her love.

He had still failed her.

He was supposed to be the older one between them, the one who should have been wiser and stronger, and yet he had failed her.

****

IT WAS EARLY MORNINGwhen the sheikh’s private jet landed in St. Valentine’s airport, and a grim-faced Malik ran down the steps, indifferent to the heavy downpour that greeted him as soon as he stepped out.

Emmanuel winced at the sight of the sheikh leaving without even a single umbrella. “Sheikh, hold on—-”

“No need, old man.” Malik waved a dismissive hand without breaking stride. Emmanuel of all people should know how urgent his business was here. He still had no fucking idea what to do or say to have her take him back, but for now all he knew was that he had to at least try. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. He had to make her see that he was only human, but if she forgave him for being an idiot, he would never make the same mistake again. He would—-

“Are you planning to run me over, sheikh?”

He wouldnotdo that, of course.

His head jerked up at the familiar sound of that lovely voice, and his eyes confirmed what his heart was beating too damn hard and fast to comprehend.

Kyria.

She was standing right in front of him, dressed in a plain black abaya, both hands curled around the handle of an umbrella. Her hair was loose, her eyes red-rimmed, but her lips—-

That smile...

That smile told him no words were needed.

Because she already knew.

What he had to say, what he was likely to forget to say—-

That smile told him she knew all of those things – and probably more – simply because she loved him.

Still.

“How—-” He swallowed hard. “How did you know I was coming?”

“Intuition.” But her puffy eyes were twinkling. “As well as a little tip from the Queen of Ramil.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Big-mouthed as ever.”

She choked back a giggle. “Oh, Malik.” Her voice trembled, but the way she said his name was no longer like it had been the last time.