Iskra
After my shower I slipped into my nightdress and walked into the bedroom. Vadim lay in bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a pensive look.
My acting skills were immaculate. I should have taken drama classes at school. It was so easy to mess with him.
I strode across the room to check on Alexei.
He was sprawled across the cot, head off the pillow, one foot sticking out between the wooden slats. I eased it back in and placed the pillow beneath his head. If he continued to sleep like this he would need safety rails into his teens.
When I reached the bed Vadim turned toward me.
“What did you mean earlier?” he whispered. “Why don’t you want to share our bedroom with me?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked with a frown, turning to open my drawer for my hand cream. “I didn’t say that.”
“Right before you fell asleep this afternoon,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely certain.
I rubbed the lotion over my hands, pretending to think back.
“No, I definitely didn’t say that.”
I could see his brain churning.
I’d bugged his office so I heard everything. It was Valentin who suggested the vasectomy—I was almost certain. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. I liked Valentin.
He pulled the covers back for me and I switched off my lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I’d barely settled on the bed before he dragged me onto his side.
“The children will grow older and then we will only have each other,” he murmured.
I was mentally calculating which of the five could give us grandchildren first when his lips began moving along my jaw.
“I could spend every second of every day with you and never want more,” he murmured.
That was sweet.
Sweeter than anything he’d ever said to me in the basement.
“We can stop at five if you want. Or if you want more. Whatever you need,” he said, sliding his hand beneath the silk.
A pause.
“Fuck, we probably both need therapy,” he muttered. “Even now I'm thinking of ways to plant another inside you.”
I smiled in the dark before gripping his jaw between my hands and kissing his face until his lips found mine. I didn’t say a word.
He always gave me what I needed.
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Sunday morning snuggles were the best. All the children joined us in bed—three dark-haired babies and one fair. Anna was the only one with blonde hair. Runa was his princess, but he called Anna his little sun.
The girls clung to their father while Alexei and Nikolai tumbled between us. Runa held her hand out and I high-fived her. Anna leaned over for one and I tapped her little hand too.
Makari’s image sat on my nightstand.
All those years ago when Vadim gave me that gift, I never could have imagined how our family would grow.
The initial shock of finding out I was pregnant again had left me speechless.
The breeding bench.
I shook my head even as Nikolai gave up playing under the covers to give me a hug. Alexei crawled after him and began to climb on top of me before Vadim caught him.
“He isn’t that heavy,” I said.
But I knew that look. As soon as Nikolai was born he had increased the household staff. He left me to hire the nanny and although I’d been reluctant at the time, Darya was perfect for our family.
After the children had their time to play and cuddle, Vadim gathered them up and took them downstairs. I heard their chatter trailing down the hallway. The room fell completely silent but for the occasional birdcall beyond the windows.
Sundays were my day off. Vadim, his men, Darya and Olya were on duty. After my year-long maternity leave with Runa I never did go back to my online job. Raising our children was a full-time occupation and the most fulfilling one I’d ever had.
I reached for my iPad to catch up on the latest crime podcast.
It was still best to keep the brain active.
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“Look at them. How could you not want another one?” Vadim whispered to me.
The church was full—the warm press of bodies, the scent of candle wax and old wood and the faint sweetness of someone’s perfume drifting from the pew ahead.
Light filtered through the stained glass and threw fragments of colour across the stone floor.
The low murmur of conversation moved through the congregation like a current, punctuated by the occasional shuffle of feet and the rustling of good coats being straightened.
I glanced at the children playing together near the front.
Flashes of the girls’ dusky pink dresses caught my eye before Nikolai’s dark navy suit came into view.
Galina’s son was there too, and a few of the men’s children running between the pews with the complete disregard for sacred spaces that only the very young could get away with.
I turned to take Alexei from him.
“It’s Konstantin’s turn,” I said, clapping my hands before holding my arms out. “Come to mama.”
He dove into them, freeing Vadim to go and stand beside his brother.
I fixed Alexei’s little bow as the first voices of the choir rose from somewhere near the altar—low and resonant, filling the vaulted space from floor to ceiling. The congregation settled into the kind of stillness that only a church could produce. Expectant. Collective. Held.
It was the same church where we said our vows. The same priest who was about to perform the ceremony. But this wasn’t an arranged marriage and there was no contract. I almost snorted at that.
Vadim might think he was in control.
But I was the silent puppet master in the background.
How else had women survived since the beginning of time?