Page 225 of The Lazarov Bratva

“Good girl,” Kristof pants, pressing a kiss to my sweaty forehead. “It's time for a shower. Do you think you can do that for me?”

I nod slowly, drifting slightly as he delicately unbinds me from the swing and helps me to the ground. Strong arms encircle me as water is guided past my lips, and then Kristof leads me into the ensuite. He sets me up for a shower, kisses me deeply, and leaves me to clean up and gather myself.

I’ll need it. Part of me is certain Kristof just used orgasm denial for the past two weeks to try and distract me from the impending nerves of my children starting school.

While sending them to public school was my idea, it’s still one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever faced in my life.

I wash quickly, blow dry my hair, put on a fresh new floral dress, slap on some lipstick, and hurry down to breakfast. The scents of pancakes and berries greets me, and breakfast is in full swing when I reach the kitchen.

Kristof stands by the stove with an apron around his waist, flipping pancakes in the air to the soft music from the radio. If anyone knew the most dangerous man in the Russian Bratva had a soft spot for country music, no one would look at him the same again. The sight brings a warm smile to my lips as I approach him.

“Smells amazing,” I murmur, kissing his cheek as I pass and head to the coffee pot.

“Only the best for my family,” Kristof declares with a twirl of the spatula.

“Mommy!” Rapid footsteps fly across the tiles, and I turn just in time to catch my son, Ivan, as he launches into my arms with a squeal. Naming him after Kristof’s brother had been a no-brainer when he was born four years ago. He has Kristof’s eyes and smile, but definitely my button nose and shockingly platinum blond hair.

“Good morning, baby!”

Andrev appears half a second later, looking slightly stressed that Ivan got away from him while carrying Tatiana with one arm. She has my eyes but Kristof’s dark hair, and some of his attitude too.

“Morning, Mommy!” she calls as Andrev sets her down in her chair. Both children’s eyes widen at the sight of pancakes, and I set Ivan down in his high chair next to Tatiana as Kristof serves up breakfast.

“Now, make sure you eat it all,” he says firmly. “Today is a big day for both of you.”

“Yes!” they chorus and dig in. Toast pops near me, so I turn my attention to that and the coffee, pouring a large mug for Andrev since he was on morning duty after Kristof detained me.

“I trust they weren’t too crazy?” I offer him the cup, and he accepts it with a smile, drinking deeply. That’s all the answer I need, and I laugh, rubbing his back.

Today is their first day of school, so things are bound to be dialed up to one hundred. Getting Kristof to agree to public schooling had taken weeks of discussions. While I understood—and shared—his safety concerns, I want my children to have a real childhood. Sheltered upbringings don’t help anyone. I’m living proof of that. Having my children grow up around other children, make friends, and have a real childhood has been my goal since day one, and my eventual victory was sweet when Kristof finally agreed.

I pass Kristof his coffee and kiss his cheek. “Do you still feel like this is a bad idea?” Out of the corner of my eye, Andrev uses his fork to divebomb some blueberries onto his pancakes, much to Ivan’s enjoyment.

“Maybe,” Kristof replies in a low voice. “You realize the entire school will be filled with our people.” He winks at me over his slice of toast.

I groan.

I hadn’t forgotten that stipulation, either.

While my victory was sweet, the middle ground we reached involved Kristof filling the school and surrounding businesses with people from our organization, and a few of the Irish, too. I’d agreed as long as they swore not to get too involved.

It was the best I could get, and part of me was certainly grateful. Given how hectic our lives are, a little protection couldn’t go amiss.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say, snatching the toast from Kristof’s fingertips. “I just want to make sure that you remember they’re supposed to be getting an authentic school experience, not a tailored one.”

I take a bite, and Kristof smirks.

“Understood.”

Breakfast passes smoothly, and getting the kids into the car had to be the easier part of the entire morning. Luckily, they’re both so excited to attend school and pre-school that it’s a challenge keeping them in the car when we arrive in order to let them out safely.

Upon arrival, August is there to meet us, and as we open the doors, Tatiana and Ivan make a beeline for him.

“Grandpa!”

He crouches down and accepts them into his large arms, then he scoops them up and spins them around while laughing deeply.

“Well, well! Look at the two of you, so smart in your uniforms!”

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