Page 59 of Possessive Vows

“You pieces of shit are in more trouble than you realize.” They fall silent. “This isn’t just about you following the wrong Volkov.” Camilla waits until the air grows thick with their dread before she says, “It’s about revenge.”

The stench of piss fills the air.

She lifts her foot to take a step but leans her weight on me when her leg wobbles. I usher her through the side door and to the car, but instead of lowering herself into her seat, she ducks toward me and wraps her arms around my midsection. I envelope her in a hug, offering her comfort as she falls apart.

Moya so´lnyshkadoes not cry. She shakes and heaves, but no tears wet her cheeks when she lifts her head.

“Thank you, Dimitri,” she whispers.

I shake my head and brush my fingertip over the scars on her cheek.

“Four more to find,” I vow.

She nods and leans her forehead against my chest for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping away. After rolling her shoulders back, she settles into her seat and allows herself a single glance back at the warehouse as I drive away.

Several minutes later, Camilla surprises me by leaning forward and reaching over the seat to slip her fingers into my collar. She rubs her thumb along the edge of my bandage. Her ring reflects the morning sunlight onto the dashboard.

“Will he kill them?” she asks.

“No. I will. Eventually,” I say.

She waits until I glance into her eyes through the rearview mirror before responding.

“Good. Could we use them to find the others?”

“We already are,” I respond.

When her expression turns thoughtful, I preemptively end the argument I know she intends to begin.

“No scheming,so´lnyshka. Feliks has many people searching for him and you saw him yesterday. He is already too close for comfort. You will not put yourself in more danger,” I demand.

She sighs but nods and traces the bandage on my neck.

“I still want revenge, but keeping our family safe is more important. I won’t paint a bigger target on my back with your children on the way,” she says.

I cover the back of her hand with mine for a moment before returning it to the wheel. After yesterday’s fender bender, I refuse to put her in danger like that again.

Traffic into the city proves a chaotic headache despite the slow progression. American drivers have no sense of direction or common sense, but I park in front of our next destination without incident.

After visiting several shops—including a boutique, a children’s clothing store, a cosmetics and beauty shop, and a corner grocery—Camilla pulls me into a jeweler.

I lift a brow but follow her lead, enjoying every brush of our bodies as she leans against me. She waves away the attendant and wanders down the display cases before heading back to the door.

“What are you searching for, Camilla?” I ask.

She lifts our joined hands and rotates her wrists. Her ring glitters in the light.

It may be the largest diamond in New York City and she may have demanded I buy it for her, but would she have chosen it without all the eyes in the store watching us?

I reach into my pocket, pull out my wallet, and give her my black card.

“Buy anything you want,so´lnyshka. It’s all yours anyway,” I say.

She shakes her head again and pushes my card away.

“I don’t want your money,” she says.

I scowl.

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