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“There won’t be any need.”
“Sir?” he inquires, his voice falling flat. Do I hear a note of defensiveness in it?
“Cancel your plans,” I reply smoothly. "I'll be getting her personally."
A nervous pause. "But the arrangements have been made."
I allow an edge into my voice. "The arrangements are that I'm fetching her. I sponsor her career, or have you forgotten?"
Martin backtracks rapidly. "No, sir, of course not. My apologies. I'll leave her in your capable hands."
I end the call, then turn my gaze back to the mirror. As I lean against the cold marble countertop in my dressing room, it dawns on me how much has changed since our last encounter with her naked in my arms. My father is gone, the weight of his loss a constant presence on my shoulders.
The Moirai tattoo adorning my arm and back feels heavier than ever, a stark reminder of the responsibilities now entrusted to me as the new head of the family. And yet, amidst this turmoil, there's one thing that remains unwavering: my desire to be with Tatiana.
My hand runs through my raven-black hair as I sigh inwardly. I'm not usually prone to such vulnerability, but her presence has a way of dismantling the ironclad walls I've built around myself. Memories of her delicate touch and the scent of her perfume linger on the edges of my consciousness, making the wait all the more unbearable.
I stride through the terminal and step swiftly. I need her.
I spot her up ahead, suitcase trailing. Her eyes widen in shock as she sees me. "Philippe?" My name on her lips electrifies me.
Her lips part, questions in her eyes, but I forestall them with a shake of my head. We have all the time in the world for explanations. For this moment, I care only that she's here with me.
I open my arms, and she runs into my embrace. Her floral scent envelops me as she clings tight, conveying wordless relief.
"Philippe," she whispers against my chest, her breath hitching. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"I couldn't let anyone else pick you up,Tesoro," I murmur, my heart racing at the feel of her in my arms again.
As we pull away, I notice her suitcase by her side. Before she can protest, I pick it up, determined to be the one to take care of her every need. "I've got this," and I guide her out.
We settle into the back of the waiting car, her thigh pressed against mine. I caress her jawline, relearning the softness of her skin. Our breaths mingle, a familiar intimacy rekindled.
"Your hands are cold," she says softly as she intertwines her fingers with mine, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver up my spine. "Let me warm them up."
And warm them she does.
"Hey, do you have a recording of your show? I'd love to hear it," I ask, trying to sound casual but unable to hide my eagerness.
Tatiana blushes and chuckles softly. "You've heard me sing so many times, Philippe. What makes this time different?"
"Because,cara mia, I can never get enough of hearing your voice," I confess, glancing over at her with a playful smile. The sight of her flushed cheeks stirs a fire within me – a fire that only she can ignite.
"Alright," she says, relenting with a grin. "I'll see what I can do."
The car purrs along. "Tell me about Russia," I request, "what was it like?"
She describes snowy Moscow sights with vivid delight. "Ah, Philippe, you should see it in the winter," she exclaims, her excitement infectious. "The snowflakes dance in the air like they're performing a ballet just for us, and the frost that covers everything... it's magical."
I could listen forever, watching her features animate. A pang hits me - I won't miss any of her performances again. She's here now, tangling her fingers in mine. That's all that matters.
Tatiana leans her head against my shoulder as the driver stares straight ahead, her hair tickling my neck. The floral scent of her shampoo envelops me, soft and sweet. I resist the urge to bury my nose in those mahogany locks.
I caress the back of her hand with my thumb, tracing slow circles. She makes a small, contented sound and nuzzles impossibly closer. God, I've missed this, missed her.
"Did you miss me?" I murmur.
She lifts her head to peer at me curiously. "I could ask you the same thing."
