Page 27

Dimitri Volkov

When she pulls her compact mirror from her purse for the fifth time, I consider pulling over to lick her into oblivion again but decide against it when she dabs the smallest bit of product on her lips and closes the mirror again.

The traffic becomes more ridiculous the closer we get to the airport, so I focus on driving.

My team of two men follow in a vehicle directly behind me while Giorgio’s teams spread a little further back.

When I told him of my predicament, he lent me eight men without hesitation, saying most were already dedicated to protecting Camilla, and I recognize two soldiers I saw from afar at the medical facility where I met my wife.

Camilla tucks her purse into her lap and glances at the bench beside her.

Several of our purchases earlier in the day—a car seat for Zoya and a booster for Maksim—sit strapped down and ready for their new occupants.

Despite how spacious the car is and how tiny my wife is, the back seat seems cramped even without the children in tow, but I will not ask her to move to the passenger seat.

She has enough to worry over without facing the agony she associates with the dashboard.

Artur will sit beside me while I chauffeur my wife around like the queen she is.

The nanny may feel put out for having to travel in a different vehicle, but for the first car ride together, I want it to just be our new family unit.

Giorgio offered a bigger car, but I refused for this reason.

The forced proximity may be what my children need to accept Camilla as their new mother figure.

I bypass the main buildings of the airport and pull up to the side gate of the runway.

Nico Russo’s guards check my identification and scan the undercarriage before opening the gate and waving us through.

I stop and wait for the rest of our party to complete the security check before heading to the backside of the international terminal and parking near the loading area where my children’s plane will dock.

Camilla takes a deep breath and opens her purse, thinks better of it, snaps her purse closed again, and reaches over the booster seat and into the rear-facing toddler seat. She buckles and unbuckles it a few times before adjusting the straps.

“You are nervous , da? ” I say.

She flicks a glance at me and quirks a brow.

“Of course I am. What’s the latest update on their flight?” she asks.

I refresh my phone and confirm their flight is on time.

“They will land in twenty minutes. Will you continue to do that until they arrive?”

She huffs and clicks the buckle closed again. I quirk a brow.

“Just let me feel like I know what I’m doing for a bit, okay? Maybe if I’m not fumbling around when they first meet me, then they won’t think I’m an idiot or hate me or—”

I exit the vehicle, open her door, unfasten her belt, and lift her to sit sideways in my lap as I wedge myself into her seat and close the door.

She squeaks and stiffens, but then blinks and leans into my chest. Her body pressed against mine sends lust pulsing through my veins.

My cock hardens. She gasps and wriggles in my lap.

“Keep doing that and we’ll give the entire airport a show,” I growl.

Her pulse leaps in her throat. She stops moving her hips but reaches up to trace the bandage on my neck. Shivers of delight race down my spine and add to the growing need pooling in my balls. Her trust fills me with pride.

Hunger and wariness war in her nearly black irises.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I offer her my hand, palm up. She quirks a brow but places hers in mine.

“We can practice together,” I say as I guide our joined fingers to the car seat.

Tears glisten in her eyes, but she takes a deep breath and pins me in place with a vulnerable look.

“Yes. Together.”

Her voice emerges strong and confident despite the doubts lingering in her gaze. I reward her with a much more chaste kiss than I prefer and shift my focus to the car seat.

The time spent in quiet reveals my utter lack of child car seat safety knowledge.

Sadness spears through me as I realize how much I left on Anastasia’s shoulders.

I never buckled my children into their seats.

There was always either a woman of the family or a nanny to strap them in, but the setup is fairly straightforward.

When Camilla hisses and yanks her hand back, I freeze and watch her study her digits, not sure what happened. A white line appears on the pad of her pointer finger.

She lifts startled eyes up to mine. My expression must reveal my shock because she gives a lame chuckle and shakes her head.

“The buckle pinched me.” Her ass shifts in my lap as she leans toward the infant seat. “We should hold it away from Zoya’s chest with our other hand like this before we fasten it,” she says.

I can skin a man alive with no qualms, rip out finger and toenails without batting an eye, and cut out specific organs on any given day, but a ball of ice forms in my stomach at the thought of hurting my daughter.

I take Camilla’s hand and brush my lips over her injured finger. She gives a quiet gasp and tilts her hips before going still and clearing her throat.

“Were you like this with Anastasia?”

Not expecting such a question, I study her expression, uncertain why she’s asking. She rubs her nape before speaking again.

“That probably sounded really jealous, but I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I am a little jealous, but I’m also glad you had each other and don’t want to tarnish her memory at all . I’m asking because I don’t want to do something in front of the kids that’ll upset them.”

Her rambling is absolutely adorable, even though there isn’t a single juvenile thing about her.

“I will always cherish the time I had with my first wife, but I will not withhold my affection for you out of fear, so?lnyshka ,” I say.

She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her eyebrows in the haughtiest, most impertinent expression I have ever seen.

“That’s fine for you to say. They’re your children. They’ll love you no matter what.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she he presses her palm to my lips.

“It isn’t fear Dimitri. It’s respect. I want to show them I respect them and their mother.”

I flick the tip of my tongue over her palm and enjoy the dilating of her pupils.

Her nostrils flare, but she lifts her hand from my face and lowers it into her lap. The delicate column of her throat shifts as she swallows. Need squeezes my balls.

“Okay, so?lnyshka . For you, I will hold back, but only in front of my children.”

Her shoulders relax in relief. I capture her chin, ensuring I have her full attention.

“But if you need help or are in danger, I cannot promise to keep my hands off you . Da? ”

She fills her lungs so full, her ass shifts on my lap, highlighting the uncomfortable ridge of my cock.

“Thank you,” she says.

My hunger roars.

“Thank me properly, moya zhena ,” I murmur.

She blinks and bites the inside of her lip before leaning harder against my chest and lifting her chin.

I take her mouth in a searing kiss. When I finally lift my head, we both heave. I smirk and rub my thumb over her bottom lip, wiping away the last of her lip color.

She scowls as she realizes what I’ve done, but the plane’s shadow falls over the window, stealing our attention. I open the door, set her on her feet on the tarmac, stand, and shut the door before she can complain.

“Will you wear makeup everyday at home?” I ask.

She huffs.

“No, but that isn’t the point. This is our first time seeing each other. Move. I need my purse.”

At the hard glint in her eyes, I decide to step out of the way and shield her from view of the plane with my body as she fixes her lipstick.

She finishes as they roll the stairs to the airplane door. After the typical safety checks, the door clunks open. Camilla drops her purse into her seat and rolls her shoulders back as she turns to face the plane.

One of my men exits the plane first, and when he confirms I am at the bottom of the stairs, motions for the rest of the crew to follow him.

Another soldier exits before Maksim jumps over the threshold onto the top landing of the stairs.

Artur grabs his shoulder and carefully steps in front of him before quietly admonishing him for being reckless.

When he turns his back to us, I stiffen at the idea he might disrespect Camilla before I can even make introductions, but he holds out his hand until Zoya takes it, her stuffed animal pinned against her side by her arm.

Nanny Olga’s skirts fill the doorway. The austere frown on her face as she steps into the fading sunset seems permanently etched into her features.

Maksim holds Zoya’s other arm, helping her balance without asking her to take her thumb out of her mouth.

When Artur leads them to the first step, Camilla starts forward, almost as though to race up the staircase, snatch my daughter into her arms, and carry her down, but my wife drops her arms to her sides and steps back to stand beside me.

I study my children’s faces as they descend the stairs with agonizing care, Artur ensuring Maksim goes at Zoya’s pace.

Despite having the endless energy of youth, Maksim’s reaction time is a fraction of a second off, showcasing the fatigue of travel.

Artur dons a scowl and refuses to look beyond his charges, waiting until he must greet us.

Zoya clings to her older brother as though terrified.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, I motion for them to join us so they don’t clog the walkway.

Artur holds my stare and walks toward us as though he curses us with each footfall.

Maksim releases his sister and bounds forward.

As I stoop to catch his enthusiastic greeting, Zoya shuffles to hide behind Artur.

My eldest child deepens his scowl but does not scold Maksim, no doubt remembering my last admonishing.