Kathleen was charmed as she stood in the middle of the ballroom. The Christmas tree twinkled happily in the corner, straining under the burden of countless ornaments. She stepped to the center of the room and turned slowly in a circle, taking it all in. Her eyes shone with tears as she took a sudden, shuddering breath, moved beyond words by the sight before her.
An enormous painting of Glazov’s beloved Firebird had been hung on the wall. In the center of the painting, beneath the protective arch of the Firebird’s spectacular plumage, was a woman with a mane of scarlet hair, smiling serenely while being consumed by flames. Jewel-toned feathers fluttered in the air around her.
Though the woman’s face was partially obscured by strands of hair, Kathleen knew without being told that she was the woman in the painting, and that the flames represented her husband’s all-consuming love for her. This was the work of gifted hands capable of unparalleled artistry, but the concept could only have come from one man’s vision. Her husband had told their story in a single, evocative image.
Sometimes Kathleen wondered how they had not destroyed each other, how they had not been reduced to ashes by the intensity of their passion. Those questions had long been part of her innermost thoughts, and now they had been laid bare in resplendent glory.
“Is it too much?” The gruff voice at her shoulder took her by surprise. She turned to find one of her husband’s trusted associates, Bazarnik, standing at her side as he scowled at the painting. His blue eyes and angular features were set off by a long, blonde ponytail. He had honored the evening’s dress code by wearing a tuxedo, although there was no hiding the flame tattoo on his neck that extended up onto his cheek. He and fire had a long, troubled history, but it seemed that he might have made peace with it at long last.
“You did this, didn’t you?” Kathleen asked softly. “It’s yours.”
“No,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “I mean, yes, I painted it. But, no, it’s yours now.”
“My husband asked you to do this?”
“Yes. Glazov gave me my first commission. He said it was high time I created something with fire instead of just burning things down all the time. The concept was all his, though.”
“I figured as much. It’s magnificent, Bazarnik. I think no one else could have done it justice. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” He nodded awkwardly and gave her a slight bow, then disappeared into the crowd.
The ballroom itself was breathtaking, with the walls draped with silk fabric in lush jewel tones. The whole Glazov family was there, decked out in cocktail dresses and gowns that complemented the evening’s colorful theme.
Logan looked positively lethal in a sexy black dress that Kathleen recalled seeing in Roksana’s closet. Kodiak had Romina in his arms, giving her the grand tour of the ballroom. She was a vision in a scarlet velvet dress with black patent leather shoes. The little family looked like they had stepped off the cover of a magazine, and were so very happy together.
Natasha and Nikita were standing next to Roksana and Oleg. Nikita looked furious, but no one appeared to be at all concerned, which seemed strange. Kathleen wondered why until Natasha turned around and the mystery was solved. She had obviously raided Roksana’s closet too. The backless peacock blue halter dress had a cinched waistline and lowcut neckline that showed off the generous cleavage that came from breastfeeding twins.
At first glance, Nikita had looked furious, but…no. Kathleen recognized the look as something else entirely. If Natasha had intended to get her husband’s attention, well, mission accomplished. As Nikita gulped his cocktail and glared down at his wife’s awe-inspiring cleavage, Kathleen just hoped Natasha knew what she was doing – and that someone would take Nikita’s glass before it shattered in his white-knuckled grip.
The tinkling of silver against crystal pulled her from her thoughts. Glazov stood beside the painting, looking dashing and dangerous in his tux. His icy blue eyes drew her to him even as he held out his hand to her and said softly, “Ptichka, come to me.”
Like many other women given to reading romance novels, she had once believed the kind of love she yearned for only existed in the pages of a book—until Glazov. It was as if he had stepped from the pages of the hottest novel ever written and drawn her into his world, into his story, so deep that she could never escape.
As Kathleen walked toward him, their eyes met. It was as if an invisible tether was pulling her inexorably toward him. When she reached his side, he kissed her cheek, then, on impulse, clasped the nape of her neck and pressed his lips to hers. It was rare that he did more than kiss her cheek in front of others, preferring to keep anything more intimate than that for only the two of them. The unexpected contact of his lips against hers sent a surge of heat to her core. And he knew it.
With his eyes still locked on hers, he addressed the group.
“It is no secret to anyone that, if I thought I could get away with it, I would keep my wife all to myself.” As soft laughter filled the room, Kathleen’s cheeks heated in response to the thinly veiled sexual threat. “It is also no secret that that was my single-minded intention from the moment I saw her. Her unparalleled beauty and her fiery spirit bewitched me and I was lost. I knew I had to have her…and, somehow, keep her. So, I set out to bend her to my will, to cage her in my world, to possess her. I existed only to conquer this woman who so fascinated me and consumed my thoughts.”
He drew her against his side and with his free hand tilted her chin toward him. In the silence that followed, there was only the two of them and their X-rated memories of a battle of wills for the ages. Then, for her ears alone, “But it was I who was conquered, Ptichka.”
Then, in a clear, strong voice, he declared for the benefit of those present, “From that first moment, I was bewitched by this woman. As our family has continued to grow, my thoughts have returned again and again to those early days when I first gathered my little bird to me. Over the years, I would toy with an idea, something that would in some small way tell our story. I decided that it would be fitting to gather our growing family together tonight to honor my wife.”
He glanced warmly at Romina, Sasha and Alex, and continued, “Fables and fairytales are for children, and that is as it should be. But love, with all its beauty and anguish, knows no such bounds. My Ptichka continues to breathe life into the Russian fable that has always so intrigued me. In doing so, she has breathed new life into our Bratva legacy -- and my cold heart.”
Glazov released his hold on his wife and pulled a flat, square velvet box from his tuxedo pocket. Kathleen frowned slightly, her heart pounding against her ribs as this elegant family gathering took on new meaning.
“I had this made for you, Ptichka. A one-of-a-kind treasure because that is what you are to me…to all of us. It represents the obsession that brought us together so many years ago, and the love that created this family and keeps it strong. A love that will endure for all time.”
Kathleen gazed up at her husband through misty eyes, so overwhelmed by his declaration of devotion and his willingness to share it with their loved ones, that she didn’t even care what was in the jewelry box. He had just given her everything she could ever want.
Glazov opened the box and turned it toward her, revealing the exquisite, jeweled Firebird brooch. The artistry was extraordinary. Diamonds and rubies glimmered along the bird’s head and body. A mosaic of colorful jewels fanned out to form the magnificent plume of tail feathers. And there, positioned prominently in the center of the chest, was the infamous, 87-carat, flawless, canary diamond. The Firebird’s heart.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” Glazov murmured. “It is a long, entertaining story for another time, but we have Kodiak and Logan to thank for the canary diamond finding its rightful home here with us. It shall be known from this day forward as the Canary Chaos diamond. It has more than earned its name.
“With help from Roksana and Oleg, Kodiak and Logan ventured to Colombia to find the Firebird’s heart, but also found something far more precious: a daughter.”
Kathleen found Kodiak and Logan in the crowd, and gave them a tremulous, teary smile as she mouthed, “Thank you.” Kodiak slid his arm around Logan’s waist, his chest swelling with pride at having played a small part in his mother’s happiness. Logan hugged Romina tight and beamed at Kathleen over the toddler’s shoulder as she mouthed, “We love you.”
Glazov fastened the brooch at the base of the gown’s deep neckline. Their eyes met when his fingers deliberately brushed the underside of a breast. Kathleen drew a shaky breath while he took his time making minor adjustments. When he had indicated his desire to see her in her emerald-green, beaded gown, she had thought nothing of it. After all, it was his favorite of all the gowns in her wardrobe, mainly because of the way the deep V-neckline dipped to just below her breasts, showcasing her cleavage for his enjoyment. But, as usual, he had had bigger plans.
Kathleen gazed down at the stunning brooch, her heart full. Throwing caution and decorum to the wind, she clasped the nape of Glazov’s neck and pulled him close for a show-stopping kiss that garnered plenty of applause and even a whistle or two. As her feet left the floor and she was held securely in the arms of the man who always protected her and had never let her down, she marveled at Alexander Glazov’s flawless ability to make her fall in love with him again and again.
The end…for now.
If you’ve enjoyed the Born Bratva series you’re sure to enjoy the Colombian Cartel series. Start with The Club available on Amazon. Also, look for the new Sinaloa Cartel series coming soon. The first book will be Problematic Escapade (Sinaloa Sinister Book 1)