Page 62 of Marrying the Silver Fox

He chuckles. “Oh, right,” he replies. “I think I remember that too.”

“You think you remember that?” I reply, laughing. “Oh, glad to see I made such an impression on you…”

“Hmm, I could use a little reminding,” he remarks, his eyes glittering—but before we can take our flirtation any further, the attendant appears with our drinks again, and I have to lower my face in the hopes that she doesn’t clock my flushing cheeks.

Nikolai lifts his glass, offering a toast. “To your second trip to Russia.”

“To my second trip,” I echo, touching my glass to his. “Hopefully it goes a little more smoothly than the first.”

“Well, Max won’t be there this time,” he points out. “Which should make life easier.”

“Good point,” I agree. But as I sip on my water and settle back in the seat, I know that it’s more than just Max’s absence that’s different this time around.

No, I can still recall all too clearly what it was like the first time we pulled up to this private jet. Staring up at the plane waiting on the dark tarmac, knowing that I was about to be swept off to a country I’d hardly even thought about before with a man who I didn’t even know. A man who had all but forced me to get married to him. Fear about my business, about my future, about what all of this would mean—so much resentment and doubt and worry was coursing through every inch of me even as I tried to hold it all together.

And now, as I sit here next to my husband, his fingers laced through mine, I know this is where I have always belonged. Where I’m choosing to be now, not just forced to be.

When Nikolai asked me if I would go back and marry him again, I realized that I wouldn’t change this, no matter how crazy it might have seemed then. He has made me feel valued, cared for, loved, in ways that I didn’t even know were possible.

And my business—I have sold it off, taken a decent nest egg from my hard work that I’m going to invest in the baby as soon as they come along. Put it away for their education, college, anything they want to do with their life. I know Nikolai could probably afford all of that and more if I asked him, but I want to make sure that I’m providing for our child too. Doing right by them in the way that my parents never could by me.

Because now, I have another job. Working with Nikolai.

He has made me a part of the family business, bringing me to social events, having me sit in on meetings, and listening to my opinions on the dynamics with the utmost seriousness. It turns out that I’ve developed a seriously accurate sense of the relationships between people in these upper echelons, and it has granted him insight he never would have had otherwise.

And God, it feels good to put all those skills to work, to know that all the effort I poured into learning those small details has paid off and will support the family that I’m now a part of.

This is the last trip that we’re going to be taking before the baby comes along, to see his father in Russia. Marcus practically insisted that we join him one last time before the baby was born—he has been as excited as we are for the birth of his grandchild, and I get the feeling that it has as much to do with what happened with Max as anything else. He has clearly been struggling without his youngest son around anymore, though he has stood firm on his certainty that Max will never set foot in that house again.

And I want to make sure Marcus knows that he will be a part of this child’s life, the only grandparent they have, but with enough love to make up for all that they lack.

The engine rumbles beneath us and soon the plane is in the air, the sky dimming to a deep, velvety blue that spills out as far as the eye can see. I lean my head on to Nikolai’s shoulder and he drapes an arm around me, pulling me close, just like he always does.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, and he turns to brush his lips over my hair.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

I smile slightly, looking up at him. A little flutter warms the base of my belly—call it hormones, but I swear that I’ve been unable to keep my hands off of him these last few months. Luckily, he seems to be in just the same mindset as me. Call it the honeymoon phase—even if this feels way more like a honeymoon than the last trip we took to Russia.

“You’re too sweet.”

“Just saying what I see.”

He brushes the hair back from my face. I’ve let it grow out a little, and it tumbles down to my shoulders. I’m sure I’m going to regret that choice when the baby comes along, but I love how feminine it makes me feel.

“You remember our first time on this plane?” he murmurs, and I can see that familiar flirtation in his eyes, the way his voice takes on that wanting edge as though he can’t hold it back.

“Hmm, I think I do,” I murmur, tapping my finger against my chin. “I could use a little reminding, though, if I’m being honest…”

“Let me see what I can do,” he replies, and he reaches to undo the belt, pulling me into his lap.

I giggle, grabbing the back of the seat. “Hey, look out, I’ll crush you,” I warn him, but he’s already circling his hands around my waist, pulling me in close.

“I think I’ll make it. Come here…” He sinks his mouth into mine, and every inch of protest vanishes from my mind as soon as I feel my lips meet his.

God, there is nothing like this, nothing that even comes close to feeling the way this does—a high I will never grow tired of, an addiction I will always hunger to sate.

He guides my legs to either side of him, and it strikes me that this is almost the same position that we hooked up in when we were first on this plane together. Except this time, I’m facing him, looking into his eyes as he reaches down to coax off my leggings.