When did things become so fucking complicated?
Someone else in his position might be worried about losing power and money, but those weren't the things he feared losing. His only weakness was his family and, of course, the darkness knew that. The darkness knew everything.
But that was the thing about secrets. Almost like a living, breathing thing, they seemed to know when to make their presence known, the exact moment the revelation would do the most damage.
A faint smile formed on his lips as he thought about the joke he and his daughter-in-law, Natasha, shared-the Bratva gods. If there had ever been a time in his life when he could use a Bratva deity or two, it was now. Too bad they were nothing more than an inside joke. He eyed his Glock on the bedside table. No inside joke there, only the cold, hard truth: no one fucked with his family and lived.
He'd be going it alone this time, in every way that mattered. He liked those odds better anyway.
He ran an inquisitive hand over the smooth curve of her hip, squeezing the supple flesh hard enough to elicit a sleepy moan. He rolled on top of her and met her heavy-lidded gaze as he kneaded an ample breast.
As he positioned his cock at her entrance, he thought about how much he loved the feel of cold steel in his hands. But even more than that, he was going to enjoy the look of shock on his adversary's face when he realized that Glazov knew exactly who he was. With a low, predatory growl, he powered into his woman with a single, forceful thrust.
For the first time in years, Kathleen was glad he wasn't there when she woke up. Glazov dominated whatever space he inhabited, without even trying. So, yeah … she was glad he had gotten on with his day and let her sleep, because he was hiding something and she was going to find out what it was.
The biggest challenge wouldn't be finding out what was going on, although she was certain it wouldn't be easy. The biggest challenge would be throwing her husband's goons off her trail. Her husband had the uncanny ability to understand the motives and intentions of others, all while keeping his own cards close to his vest.
She didn't fear death, but secrets? Well … that was another thing. She had an innate need to know what was going on when it pertained to her family. There wasn't a force big enough or dark enough to quell her curiosity when it came to the 'bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh'.
If some sick fuck was coming after her family, he would have to go through her. She was a Glazov; she didn't play fair, she played to win. Kathleen Glazov had long ago learned to take fighting dirty to a whole new level. She had brains, beauty, and guts. She was a worthy opponent for any enemy.
She rushed through her morning routine, taking a quick shower and slipping into her favorite peacock blue satin robe before sitting down at her make-up table to get ready for the day.
She could feel him before she saw him. But there he was, reflected in the mirror, just behind her. She resisted the urge to show any anxiety as he stood close behind her and laid his hands at the base of her throat. As he ran the pad of his thumb along her cheek, she focused on keeping her breathing nice and even.
"You know I don't like it when you watch me put on my makeup," she said smoothly, forcing herself to meet his narrowed gaze. "I wouldn't want you to find out all my secrets."
He was like a shark smelling blood in the water. One sign of weakness and it would be all over. He would pounce and fuck her for hours, and while she had no doubt she'd enjoy the attention, her plan for the day would be over. Instead, he stepped in closer, his expression stoic, revealing nothing. He laid a hand along the top of her head and firmly clasped her chin with the other.
A human vice. Lovely.
"You are a great beauty, wife of mine," he murmured. "Never more beautiful than in the early morning. Your face bare, your hair fanned out over my pillow, your body soft and warm. Remember Ptichka … I'm always watching."
We'll see about that.
"Always so intense, my love. Good morning to you, too."
His eyes were locked on hers, looking for any sign that would give away whether she was up to something. Then again, he never had to wonder if, because she always was. Another long, silent look, then he leaned down and kissed her lips. Seconds later, she was alone once again to wonder how much he knew about what she was up to.
She had seen her man in action before, had seen him coolly enjoy dinner, laughing over old times with an enemy who had no idea they were eating their last meal. He didn't reveal what or how much he knew until he was good and ready. He gave new meaning to the term 'poker face'.