[Celia's POV]
"Your first appearance as the soon-to-be duchess will be announced at tomorrow's party," Vladimir said the next morning. Celia's hand stilled, fork poised over a medium steak. She widened her eyes as she looked at Vladimir who was standing while a man helped him into a coat.
The man was dismissed and then Celia said, "But, your highness―"
"Vladimir," he interjected.
"But Vladimir, I have not even…" she trailed off, lowering her gaze.
"What?" He asked.
"I have not met your father…" she murmured, now fiddling with the end of the fork.
"You want to meet him? But he is not ready to accept you," he said, brutally honest. Celia pursed her lips.
She did not argue after that. After finishing her breakfast, which was a bit on the heavier side, she asked, "What should I…?"
