Dmitri chuckled, “Let’s be strategic,” he said softly. “You can like someone at school all you want. But girlfriends at six? That’s a special kind of trouble. Let’s focus on being friends first, hm?”
Vanya frowned, considering this carefully. “Friends first, then... maybe girlfriends later?”
“Exactly,” Dmitri said, smirk tugging at his lips. “Friends first. You’ve got to know they can handle your crayon drawings and your cat obsession before anything else.”
I laughed again, warmth spreading through my chest. “You know, your father’s already giving you dating advice, Vanya. That’s dangerous. He’s only going to make sure every girl knows you’re a Volkov before they even get to like you.”
Vanya threw his small hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll teach them! I’ll show them all the rules!”
His face scrunched up, brows furrowing, little lips pursed. “But I can still invite her over?”
I nodded, smiling. “With her parents, yes. We’ll have a playdate. Maybe she can come for gelato and swimming one afternoon. How does that sound?”
His face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds, wide and beaming. “Thank you, Mom!”
I smiled so wide my cheeks ached from the stretch of happiness. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”
Before I could even straighten fully, Dmitri had me lifted in a smooth, effortless bridal carry.
I squeaked in surprise, then laughed, the sound bubbling out as he started walking toward the villa.
His arms were steady, warm, strong, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing at all.
My bikini-clad body pressed against his, my stomach brushing his firm abdomen, yet he moved as if nothing about the weight or the new life growing inside me could ever slow him down.
He didn’t stop kissing me—soft, deliberate presses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth, my jaw—mapping every inch of me with those lips, as if he couldn’t decide where to linger first.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the damp ends of his hair, pulling him closer, letting the warmth of him seep into every aching corner of my chest.
“Put me down,” I murmured against his lips, though I made no move to help.
“Never,” he growled playfully, nipping at my lower lip, just enough to make me laugh. “You’re mine to carry, Milaya. Don’t you forget it.”
Vanya’s voice carried across the water, shrill with mock disgust. “Gross! Dad, you’re kissing Mom again!”
We both laughed—light, free, and unrestrained—the sound echoing off the stone, bouncing across the water, filling the villa grounds with something that felt like home.
Dmitri paused at the threshold of the villa’s open glass doors, taking a long, measured look back at Vanya still floating happily in the pool. “Five more minutes, then straight to the shower, Vanya,” he called, his voice firm yet warm. “No arguments.”
“Okay, Dad!” Vanya answered, grinning, raising his tiny hands in mock surrender before disappearing beneath the water for a flip.
Dmitri stepped inside, still carrying me with absolute care.
The hallway stretched out in soft, ambient lighting, walls adorned with modern art he’d chosen because the colors reminded him of my eyes, of me.
Every step he took was reverent.
I let myself relax completely, trusting him entirely, because I knew—he would never let me fall.
He didn’t set me down until we reached the master suite, the bed oversized and inviting.
Only then did he gently lower me onto the edge, kneeling between my knees so our eyes met.
His palms framed my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones in small, warm circles.
“I love you,” he said simply, without pretense. “Every day I wake up grateful you chose to let me stay. You trusted me with your heart again.”
I leaned forward, forehead against his. “I love you too,” I whispered. “And I’m glad I did. Every single day I’m glad.”