Page 69 of Possessive Vows

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.

My second born launches into a retelling of the flight, oblivious to the emotional tension in the atmosphere. I set him on his feet beside his brother before he can begin listing the wonders of the lavatory.

Nanny Olga’s skirts swish as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Zoya shifts closer to Artur.

After introducing my children to my wife and my wife to my children, I greet the nanny and inform her of her travel in a separate vehicle. I cannot tell if her rigid posture and furrowed brow are from her dissatisfaction or because she always looks that way. Vilen approaches and gestures for her to follow him to his car.

She hesitates and scowls at each of my children before swishing her way toward the SUV.

“What do we call you?” Artur asks Camilla in thickly accented and stilted English. I narrow my gaze on him, warning him against taking his rebellion too far.

He doubles down and glares right back at me, letting me feel the whole of his rage.

Camilla studies him from top to bottom, glances at me, then steps forward and offers him her hand to shake.

“Hi, my name is Camilla. My friends call me Cams and my new bodyguards call me Mrs. Volkov, but that title is still new to me, so I might not respond to it very well. What do you want to call me?”

Artur eyes her skeptically but takes her hand and shakes with what must be a respectful pressure, since Camilla’s expression remains the same.

“You will not force us to call you Mama?” Maksim asks.

Camilla shifts her gaze down to Maksim’s blond head of hair and offers him a soft smile.

“No, Maksim, I’m not. I hope you will one day, but we just met, so it wouldn’t be right for me to ask that of you. What do you want me to call you?”

His eyes brighten and he bounces on the balls of his feet with a giggle.

“You already did it right!” Camilla tilts her head as though she doesn’t understand. “By my name, of course!”

The lead ball in my chest loosens as my second child accepts Camilla without hesitation. He steps forward and tugs her hand out of Artur’s for his own handshake.

Her genuine smile steals my breath. Artur crosses his arms over his chest and steps aside. Zoya acts as his shadow, shifting along behind him, but she peeks around him, revealing her curiosity.

“I bet that was a long plane ride. Let’s get you guys home so you can rest,” Camilla says.

“Our home is in Russia. We will never belong in America,” Artur snarls.

Camilla takes a deep breath, still shaking Maksim’s hand, and meets Artur’s eyes with unflinching honesty.

“You’re right, Artur. I’m sorry. Russia will be my home soon, too, although I’m not sure I’ll ever belong there. Lots of big changes for all of us. In fact, I just moved into the place where we’re going, so I’m not even sure why I called it my home. Probably because my brother is next door,” she says.

Artur lifts a mocking brow. Maksim steps closer to her, his bright blue eyes sparkling with questions.

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