Kathleen

I look in the mirror and scrutinize my reflection. I’ve chosen to wear Glazov’s favorite dress. It’s a simple red gown that dips low in the back, accentuating the solid back muscles I have worked so hard for in the gym. I pair it with diamond hoop earrings, and I fix my long red hair so it flows down my back in ringlets. There will be some very beautiful women here tonight, and even after twenty years of marriage, I still get jealous about the way women blatantly flirt with my husband. Some of the Bratva groupies are downright bold about the way they come on to him. Of course, he thinks it’s hilarious when I get jealous. He still laughs about the time I beat the shit out of one of his dealers at work. Needless to say, she doesn’t work there anymore. Word has gotten around over the years how possessive I can be. Now, if they do have a crush on him, they keep it on the down low. They tend to have more of a ‘look but don’t touch’ attitude, but even the looks bother me. I’m not the first crazy bitch who has gotten in a fight over a Bratva boy. Most of the other women have a reason to fight though; their husbands actually are fucking around on them. At least I don’t have that problem.

I check my make-up one more time before I walk down the long hallway leading to the winding staircase. Our mansion is beautiful, filled with antiques and memories. I look at the family pictures that cover the wall at the top of the steps. The years have flown by, and all my kids are grown now.

The air already buzzes with excitement as guests begin to arrive. My eyes immediately scan the room for my husband. Still, after all these years, anticipation lodges in my gut at the thought of seeing him. My unpredictable husband still excites me in ways no other man ever has.

I make my entrance and begin to work the room. These are the people who have stood by us through all the drama that comes with being a Bratva family. Life, deaths, births, and incarcerations—through it all, we have stood together and had each other’s backs. Unlike many organized crime families, we take care of the women and children who are left behind when tragedy strikes.

I approach my son Kodiak, who is standing in the shadows, possessively guarding the woman on his arm. My curiosity is more than a little piqued at his proprietary display.

“Kodiak, she’s lovely,” I voice as I observe the brunette standing next to him.

I watch as his eyes rake over her, and she blushes under his intense perusal.

“Yes, she is. Mother, this is Logan. She just started working at Father’s gambling house as a dealer.”

I note that his stare goes cold.

“Father asked me to keep an eye on her, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—keeping a very close eye on her. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

The poor girl blushes an even deeper shade of crimson before she answers.

“Yes, ma’am, that is what he’s doing.”

“The men in our family can be very intense, dear. Don’t let Kodiak scare you away.”

“She’s not going anywhere… Are you, Logan?”

“No, ma’am, I like my new job.”

I know she is attempting to avoid the elephant in the room. Kodiak’s dominant nature is shining through in his possessive stare and the firm grip he has on the poor girl’s arm.

“You’ll do fine, dear.”

I pat her arm to reassure her before I walk away. I head toward the bathroom, never noticing Glazov following closely in my wake. In fact, until he pushes the door open, turns to lock it, and backs me into the sink, I’m not even aware he is in my personal space.

“Glazov, is it necessary for you to stalk me so relentlessly after all these years?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“You’re damn straight it is.” He leans in close to my ear and growls, “I’m always watching you.”

I squeeze past him to make my way over to the vanity mirror.

“I don’t have time to be accosted by you. Our guest of honor should be arriving soon.”

He comes up behind me, fists a handful of my hair, and jerks my head back while looking at my reflection in the mirror.

“Our guest is already here. I picked him up from the airport. I’ll always be one step ahead of you, Ptichka, and don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

I watch in the mirror as he releases me before making his way out the door. He’s made his presence known and has, once again, solidified that I am Bratva property—his Bratva property. Perhaps that is what my son is attempting to do with his new friend, Logan. Is he marking her as his by bringing her to a closed gathering? He could very well be letting the other men know that she is off limits. No one would dare approach the girl now that she has been seen with Kodiak. They are all afraid of him, as well they should be. Kodiak is as crazy as his father, and just like his father, he makes no attempts to hide it or be politically correct. He most certainly makes no apologies for his actions.