“That dog, that…that…beast!” Ludmila pointed a finger at Beast as he lay on his bed between the cribs.

“Well, that’s his name,” Pavel muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No! I don’t care about name, he is a beast!” she said as she waved her hands around and spoke frantically in her heavily accented, broken English. “He crazy. He no let me near the babies. He growl at me! Then…when I do pick them up, he follow me. I almost trip over him!”

Beast yawned loudly as he listened to the nanny’s accusations, her Russian accent becoming more pronounced as her agitation grew. Natasha couldn’t help but smile. Beast was just doing his job and, besides, she’d come to like the big brute and his owner. She reached down, scratching behind his ears as his tail thumped contentedly against the floor.

One of the babies stirred, crying softly. Pavel removed his suit jacket and approached the crib. As Natasha looked on, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he picked Alex up and rocked him in his arms. Natasha handed him a pacifier and he slipped it into the baby's mouth, rumbling soft words in Russian as he walked over to stand next to the window.

Pavel felt something in his chest shift and soften as the future Pakhan held his gaze as he busily sucked on the pacifier. A bodyguard wearing a holster and holding a baby wasn’t the norm for most families, but for this one it was.

“You ruin him with pacifier. You coddle him.” Ludmila concluded her declaration by crossing her arms over her chest and giving an indignant huff.

“Ludmila, let’s try this,” Natasha said as she struggled to tear her eyes away from the man at the window. “Let Pavel and Katya handle the holding and soothing while you do all the important stuff like fixing the bottles if the babies get hungry if I’m not nearby. They’ve done great accepting a bottle occasionally and it doesn’t seem to be disrupting my breastfeeding. You can make sure the babies have everything else they need. Do their laundry, things like that.” She took a deep breath and continued more sternly, “And one more thing. Those babies will get their pacifiers whenever they need one. It’s not like they can sit me down and tell me their wish list of things they want or need. We’ll learn each other’s signals soon enough, but for now, sucking is all they’ve got. That’s not coddling. Are we clear?”

Ludmila huffed self-righteously, “That fine by me. But that dog belong to him so he deal with it. I go and do laundry now, anything to be away from that thing.”

“Beast is not a thing,” Pavel growled from the window. No one would be allowed to speak of his best friend that way.

“Hmmph,” she sniffed as she stomped out of the room.

Natasha waited until Ludmila was gone before she let go of the laughter she’d been suppressing. She leaned down and rubbed Beast’s head, grinning as the same thump, thump, thump could be heard as his tail wagged happily. “Pavel, you’re so good with the babies.”

For the first time ever, she saw the man smile. It was a small smile, but enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He had taken his security duties so seriously that he’d been sleeping in a recliner in the nursery. No one spoke openly of it out of respect for Pavel’s long-established preference for privacy, but it was clear that he was bonding with the new family and they were bonding with him too.

“Pavel, how do you feel about being Alex and Sasha’s bodyguard even after all of this drama blows over, as they grow up?”

“I would be honored to protect the next generation of Bratva. One other thing, if I may -- Beast doesn’t like Ludmila but he seems to have no problem with Katya. She will continue working with me, yes?”

As if on cue, Katya strolled into the room, humming to herself as she tucked folded blankets and onesies into drawers. She leaned down and patted Beast’s head as she passed by and was rewarded with a few swishes of his tail. If Natasha didn’t know better, she’d swear Pavel’s tail was wagging too.

“Yes, of course. But that’s odd,” Natasha said in response to Pavel’s observation. “Why do you think Beast doesn’t like Ludmila?”

Katya answered, “If I may speak plainly, ma’am, she’s a bitch and Beast doesn’t like her because she doesn’t like him. It’s not his fault.”

“Katya’s right,” Pavel agreed quietly. “Ludmila is the grouchiest woman I’ve ever met. Negative energy is no good for little ones. Or dogs.” He shook his head grimly as he looked down at Alex in his arms. “I don’t worry about Beast, he knows he has a job to do. But the little ones need someone gentle. Someone kind.” Kathleen didn’t miss the way he glanced over at the young woman as he spoke, or how her eyes softened when she looked back at him.

“Yeah, she’s enough to make anybody cry,” Katya chuckled as she picked up Sasha for a diaper change. The baby looked up at her with comfortable recognition. “I had a few tearful moments with her myself the first time I worked with her, but I got over it.”

“She made you cry?” Pavel asked, nostrils flaring and neck flushing as he turned fully toward her.

“Hey, Pavel, you look good with that baby,” Katya teased him, adeptly changing the subject to more pleasant matters.

Natasha marveled at how comfortable the young woman seemed handling the burly Brava guard, how easily she directed the conversation away from something that clearly had him upset and was probably old history anyway. Other than Glazov himself, Katya was the only person Natasha had ever seen bring the big man out of his shell. Natasha had known him her whole life and had rarely heard him speak more than a few words.

“Well, let’s keep our personal feelings about Ludmila to ourselves. She can fix bottles, do laundry, and make sure the supplies are stocked up. I can assure you that with as much as my father-in-law is paying her, she probably couldn’t care less about her job title. And you two can do all the good stuff -- the feeding and holding – when Nikita and I aren’t doing the honors, of course. I do appreciate the help, but I want Nikita and I to be their primary caregivers.”

“Of course,” Katya agreed softly. “That makes perfect sense, Mrs. Glazov. After all, you’re their whole world.”

Natasha beamed at her. “Yes, I guess we are.”

“Katya is wise beyond her years,” Pavel said quietly from the window.

Katya rolled her eyes. “You’re both very kind, but really, this is just one more reason why Ludmila shouldn’t be hands-on, especially if she hasn’t bonded with Alex and Sasha by now. If it’s all about the money for her, she shouldn’t be their nanny. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” Katya tickled under Sasha’s chin and the baby smiled and kicked her legs happily.

“I’m not planning on keeping Ludmila around permanently. Would you be willing to stay on as the children grow up?”

“Oh, of course. I’d love to, but only if I get to work with the big guy here.”

Natasha grinned as she retrieved Alex from Pavel’s arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her son’s head. “Yes, I think Pavel’s already made his preference quite clear, Katya.”

If Katya and Pavel liked each other then Natasha was determined to keep them working together. And why shouldn’t they like each other? After all, the Glazov house was known for bringing couples together.

Pavel’s forbidding demeanor had been known to strike fear in the hearts of even his most ruthless adversaries. From the top of his bald head to his size fourteen shoes, he was beyond intimidating. He had seen more than his fair share of fights over his many years in the service of his Pakhan, as evidenced by the slightly crooked bridge of his nose that had been broken three times.

There was nothing pretty or soft about Pavel, but Katya did not seem put off by his stoic demeanor in the least. She seemed to find him quite appealing, and the feelings appeared to be mutual. Interesting. Natasha knew Pavel to be an intensely private man who didn’t tolerate interference. He was an old-school Bratva soldier, perhaps even a bit more provincial than was typical.

There was no mistaking the hungry way his eyes had lingered on Katya as she moved about the nursery while tending to the Glazov babies. Natasha pondered what she knew of Katya’s past and decided that Pavel might be exactly what Katya needed. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if one of them would do something about it.

Long live Born Bratva love, Natasha chuckled to herself.

Kolya stood in front of Glazov’s desk with his hands folded in front of him, wondering why he had been summoned. Everything about the fighter’s posture conveyed respect and reverence for the Pakhan.

The only sound in the room was the soft, repetitive tapping of Glazov’s pen on the desktop. The air seemed to crackle with electricity, the seconds crawled by like hours. The wait was causing Kolya to review the decisions he’d made of late. Had the Pakhan heard about him moving Helena into their new home? Surely, he wouldn’t be pissed about that. But if Glazov thought the woman knew too much it could cause problems—big fucking problems.

When the Pakhan finally did speak, it wasn’t with words. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit and tossed a small photograph down on the desk. Kolya frowned as he regarded the photograph of two infants laying side by side in a hospital bassinette.

“This photograph was found in Bjarke’s house. The son of a bitch may be trying to get to me through my grandchildren. He’s too weak and undisciplined to pull off such a plot, but I figure it’s the thought that counts. I want him dead. As you’re already aware, we are taking on more legitimate business interests, so discretion will be of utmost importance. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Kolya?”

“Absolutely, sir. I would consider it an honor if you would allow me to take care of this for you.”

Glazov gave him a long, considering look before responding. “Very well. Now, concerning your new housemate, you would do well to ensure she can be trusted. Her discretion is of utmost importance. The woman is your responsibility. I would hate to have to kill the woman I can only assume you’re in love with. If that were to prove necessary, the consequences wouldn’t stop with her. Understand?”

“I can assure you I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on her, sir.”

“Very well. That is all, Kolya.”

That was Kolya’s cue to leave, which he did with a respectful bow to his Pakhan and a brief nod at Novak. The men waited to start talking until the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded into the distance.

“What is it with this house?” Novak groused. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in a Bratva Bachelor reality show or something.”

“Maybe the Bratva gods are seeing to it that people who can understand being Born Bratva get together,” Glazov sighed with resignation. “It takes a certain kind of woman to understand a Bratva husband.”

His thoughts turned to his own Bratva woman and the worries that plagued her mind. Another week with no word from their son Kodiak and his wife. There was nothing Kathleen could do but wait. In recent days, she had thrown herself into preparing the household for Christmas and helping with the twins. His woman was in full control-freak mode, busying herself with even the smallest details to the point of exhaustion. Something would need to be done to rein her in. A wicked smile tilted his lips at all the possibilities.

“Do you think Kolya can handle this woman?” Novak asked. His voice was conversational but the expression in his eyes was grim. The question brought Glazov out of his sexually-charged reverie like a bucket of ice water.

“He took her out of a bad situation and gave her a fresh start. When lightning strikes like that, a man won’t have to rule with an iron fist. She would be a fool to fuck up a good thing by interfering in Bratva matters that don’t concern her. If she does, then I’ll handle it personally.”

“Good to know.” Novak nodded. “So, this Kolya thing. We know he killed a man in the ring years ago. Never got over it. What you’re asking him to do now, I don’t know… The guy seems cool, but I don’t want to see him go over the edge.”

“I thought about that too, but if you remember he asked me to let him kill Bjarke. That other situation was an accident. It was an underground fight back in Russia, and there was no one monitoring how it worked. But this is just a job. No surprises.”

“A man never knows how he’ll react to taking a life until he does it,” Novak said. “We can consider such things in the abstract, but the truth is only revealed when we walk in someone else’s shoes. For you and me, killing comes as naturally as breathing. We discovered that about ourselves when we killed your father.”

There were times when Novak’s capacity for wisdom surprised Glazov. The man was deeper than what his outward volatile nature would suggest. It was one of the many reasons Glazov was glad to have him as his right-hand man.

Kathleen was curled up on the loveseat, her eyes soft and unfocused as she listened to the flames crackle and hiss in the fireplace. The cozy sitting area in the bedroom she shared with her husband was her favorite spot in the house. It was where she went when she needed to think. She had been spending more time there than usual in recent weeks.

Earlier that evening, she had taken Pavel aside for a private discussion concerning the nanny, Katya. In the back of her mind, she had hoped he would take an interest in the young woman. Truth be told, it was the impetus behind Kathleen’s decision to hire her.

Pavel lived a solitary life and seemed content enough. He didn’t seem exactly lonely, but Kathleen wondered if he would even realize if he were. His sole focus in life was and always had been Bratva and serving his Pakhan. He had noble intentions but, as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t living a full life. It appeared that her instincts had been correct, and he had taken a definite interest in Katya. But there were certain things he needed to know.

In her teens, the young woman had been raped by a family friend. The trauma had prompted her to withdraw from all the usual teenage activities that one would expect a young woman to enjoy. Instead, she focused on her work to the exclusion of all else. Pavel needed to know about Katya’s past so he could understand that the usual Bratva caveman approach wouldn’t score any points with her. Patience would be called for, and gentleness.

Kathleen knew she had given Pavel a lot to think about. She worried that, with the best of intentions, she may have ruined everything. How ironic that her matchmaking had given her one more thing to worry about. She hoped it would all be worth it; Pavel was a good man and Katya was a lovely girl. They both deserved some happiness.

She cradled two crochet needles in her hands as her nimble fingers assembled row after row of tidy, perfect stitches for little Sasha’s Christmas sweater. The babies were settling in well and, with Pavel and Katya each helping in their own way, Natasha and Nikita were finally able to enjoy some peace of mind and get some well-earned sleep.

Kathleen struggled to recall the last time she had slept well. She found it impossible to clear her mind and drift off to sleep at night when her imagination persisted in presenting her with horrifying images of Kodiak and Logan meeting a variety of grisly, bloody ends. If Glazov knew anything about their fate, he wasn’t telling her. She trusted him to do everything possible to get them home safely, but she couldn’t help but worry.

Up until now, she had managed to keep her anxiety at bay by keeping busy and overseeing the household’s preparations for Christmas – anything that required constant motion. Tonight, however, she had opted for solitude and a quieter activity. Her defenses were down and she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin.

She tossed the needles and yarn onto the end table and covered her face with her hands. As her shoulders shook with the force of her silent sobs, she knew there was nothing she could do other than pray for their safe return. The sense of helplessness was maddening.

“Ptichka.”

Kathleen lifted her tear-streaked face and saw Glazov standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders and massive frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. She wiped her eyes and straightened her back, determined to present a brave front, as always. Her husband had enough to deal with without her adding to his burdens.

“So, I take it you’ve wrapped up your meeting with Novak?” she asked casually, sniffling lightly as she attempted a small and altogether unconvincing smile. Her question was met with narrowed eyes and silence. A frisson of unease flickered at the base of her spine as she took in her husband’s impassive expression and the stiff set of his shoulders.

“Our business is concluded, for now. I’ve decided to turn my attention to more pressing matters.”

“Oh? Like what?” she asked, frowning slightly.

“You.”

“I-I don’t understand. I’m fine--”

“On the bed,” he said silkily with a slight tilt of his chin. As she prepared to question him, he arched a brow imperiously. “Now.”

She rose from the loveseat and walked slowly over to the bed. As she pressed a knee onto the mattress, she turned to him and asked, “My clothes. On or off?”

The unmistakable hiss of his switchblade might as well have been a gunshot. The knife’s blade glimmered in the light from the fireplace as he held it loosely by his side. “I’ll take care of your clothes. Now, on your back.”

She did as she was told. Her acquiescence only served to confirm the rightness of what he was doing. His wife so rarely did as she was told.

He loosened his tie as he prowled toward the bed, sliding the length of silk from the collar of his shirt and gathering it in his free hand. “You are not sleeping. You are micromanaging every aspect of this household when there are people employed for that purpose.”

Bracing his knee on the mattress, he placed the knife on the nightstand and wrapped the tie around her wrists. “I know you’re worried. I am too. But you seek to control that which cannot be controlled.” She opened her mouth to object, only to think better of it as he went completely still and coldly instructed her, “Do not speak. And do not test me. You know I do not like to repeat myself.”

He used the ends of the fabric to tie her wrists to the discreet metal bar that ran along the bottom of the headboard for that purpose. “I see how you fight against the whirlwind, my little bird…how you exhaust yourself.”

Glazov retrieved the knife and settled on his knees between her legs, letting her supple thighs rest on top of his. The blade didn’t make a sound as he sliced through her negligee, rending the fabric up the middle to reveal the alabaster curves that always blushed so readily beneath his hands. “You need to be reminded.”

He grasped her ankles, raised them up, and gathered them in one massive hand. “Reminded of what?” Kathleen whispered, only to cry out as his hand landed hard, twice, on her ass.

“Of what you already know, of course,” he said serenely. He reached back and retrieved the two sets of handcuffs he had tucked into the waist of his pants. Fastening a cuff to each of her ankles, he spread her wide and pressed each ankle back toward a corner bedpost. The angle was extreme, with her legs nearly level with her head. He stifled a grin as he made a mental note to thank his sister for introducing his wife to the wonders of yoga.

“Glazov! What the hell are you--” Another swat to her ass had her scowling indignantly, her ivory skin flushing with fury.

“What am I doing? I think we’ve established that I’m reminding you of what you already know. I’m afraid I may have been remiss in my duties of late, letting you worry endlessly when you are supposed to let me shoulder your burdens. But no more.” He secured each cuff to a post, leaving her spread wide open before him. “Mmm, yes, that’s more like it.”

He lifted the knife from the bed and ran the point of the blade along both of her inner thighs, smirking with pleasure as her sleek muscles twitched and flexed beneath it. “Stop fighting. This battle is not yours to fight. You will only hurt yourself.”

She shifted impatiently, causing the tip of the blade to pierce her skin and draw blood. Glazov’s eyes seemed to blaze from within as a drop of her blood quivered at the wound and then began a slow journey down her leg.

“Ah, now, look what you’ve done.” Glazov leaned down and captured the droplet with the tip of his tongue, closing his eyes and humming with pleasure as he followed its trail back to the tiny wound.

Without another word, he slid off the bed and removed his clothes. The years had been good to Alexander Glazov. His hard physique was the result of good genes and a grueling exercise regimen that kept him in what would be considered prime shape for even a far younger man. As each article of clothing came off, his hungry gaze remained fixed on the glistening apex of his wife’s thighs.

He lowered himself onto the mattress on his stomach and cradled her hips in his hands. Holding her lower lips open with his thumbs, he ran his tongue up and down her slit, swatting her ass on two occasions when she tried to move against his mouth. “Don’t. Move.” He continued to devour her with his tongue, lips and teeth until she arched her back and shuddered with her release.

Glazov rose up on his haunches and pressed the broad head of his cock against her pussy. “What is it that you know, Ptichka? What is true every day of your life? What simple truth has never changed and has always guided your peaceful sleep in my arms?”

“I don’t know,” she keened, shaking her head back and forth as she tried in vain to lift her hips and join with him.

He leaned down and kissed her. “Yes, you do. Tell me.”

She stilled and lifted glistening eyes to his. “That everything will be okay…because you’re watching…always watching…”

Glazov reared back, snarling as he lunged forward and claimed her with a single, brutal thrust.