Page 77 of Possessive Vows

Camilla and Zoya already lie snuggled under the covers. After a quick shower and change into clean sweats, I join them on the bed.

Unlike before, I slip under the covers and scoot toward the center of the bed. Camilla turns her head and offers me a sleepy smile as she weaves her fingers into mine. Zoya gives the cutest little snore with her face pressed against Camilla’s side. Her leg jerks and lands over my wife’s hips. She drags the ever present stuffed animal over Camilla’s chest to rest against my arm as she snuggles closer.

Camilla gives a contented sigh and slips into an exhausted doze.

A familiar scent—Anastasia’s signature perfume—wafts from the stuffed animal and fills me with bittersweet nostalgia, but my mind remains acutely aware of who I’m lying beside.

I quiet my mind and relax each muscle of my body, trying to give myself the rest I need while the ones I hold most dear are safely nearby.

A few minutes later, Maksim stumbles into the room with fear and confusion in his bleary eyes.

“Dada? Where are we?” he mumbles in Russian, still half asleep.

I lift the edge of the blanket. He climbs in with uncoordinated movements and plops onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh.

So much has changed in the last year.

For the better.

I never would have known how fulfilling it could be to have my young children tucked against me if it weren’t for Camilla.

It isn’t the same, since I chose the violence that gave me my scars and others forced hers upon her, but her bravery in the dressing room made me realize how much of a fool I’ve been to hold myself apart from my family. My children deserve every good part of me. Denying them physical affection is a form of torture I should have never begun.

It will be a long road to healing the wounds I didn’t realize I was inflicting, but I will ensure my children never hesitate to take what they need from me.

A thin frame blocks the hallway nightlight. Artur stands in the doorway with his pillow in one hand and his blanket in the other. Without a word, he shuffles into the room and settles on the floor beside the bed.

I hurt him the most. He has many expectations on his shoulders, but that’s no excuse for my lack of affection. If anything, I should have spent more time with him. Instead, our father-son bond is frayed because of me.

This is the first step of mending our roles in the family.

I am glad he trusted us enough to come into the room, even if his pride led him to sleep on the floor instead of the bed. Steps are progress, no matter how small.

I slip into a comfortable doze, my mind more relaxed than it has been since Anastasia died, and when Maksim steps on Artur in the middle of the night on his way to the bathroom, I wake just enough to acknowledge their brotherly spat before falling into the best sleep I’ve managed in my adult life.

The morning begins early and in chaos as Maksim pops awake with enough energy to power all of New York City if we could bottle it. When I tell Camilla we’ll visit her sister today, her eyes light with excitement.

Camilla and I fumble through managing the kids, Artur fairly set in his ways but Maksim so free-spirited he has trouble remaining on task. Zoya follows Camilla around like a shadow throughout breakfast, but then latches onto first Artur, then Maksim. When she eyes me from across the room, I scrub my hand over my stubble and realize I never let my children see me before dressing for the day.

I was a stiff, formal asshole.

Camilla’s laugh pulls me from my musings. She’s gorgeous with her hair tangled and loose around her shoulders as she responds to Maksim’s enthusiasm.

As Zoya slips from Maksim’s side to Camilla’s, she glances toward the front room.

Following a hunch, I set my coffee onto the counter and offer her my hand. She pins her stuffed animal under her elbow and wraps her tiny fist around my finger.

I lead her around the house, showing her no one is lurking around the corners. When she realizes she already knows everyone under the roof, the tension drains from her shoulders and she patters around the house on her own but still checks on each person often.

When Camilla heads to the master bathroom to wash and dress for the day, Zoya follows right on her heels. They emerge forty-five minutes later with sparkles in their eyes and matching hairdos. Camilla even put a bit of blush and lip gloss on Zoya.

They’re the most precious sight I’ve ever seen.

After ensuring Artur and Maksim are ready for the day, I take my turn in the master bathroom. My balls ache, but the thought of jacking off in the shower isn’t appealing, so I wash quickly and exit without relieving the pressure.

The doorbell rings as I slip my pistol holster into the harness at the small of my back. I shrug into my suit coat and fasten my cufflinks before walking into my dress shoes as I exit the walk-in closet.

Giorgio’s voice filters down the hall.

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