Page 71 of Keeping Ruby

I consider. Pavel is a beast of a man, as lethal as my brother and just as vicious. I would be a fool not to take him. “Just until this blows over.”

“He’ll be there first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Ilya.”

“Family means everything. Ruby is your heart. She is family. We will keep her safe.”

Thirty-Two

Ruby

He’s been agitated for the last week, and I’m not sure why. I do know it has to do with me, because he returned home from work in a mood last Monday, and on Tuesday morning before he’d left for work, he’d introduced me to my second guard. A tall, lean, lethal man covered in ink. And by covered, I mean covered. The man had ink on his face, for goodness’ sake.

I’d spent the entirety of Tuesday with Maxim hovering far too close for comfort, watching as Pavel moved about the property, overtaking all security measures and, in general, shaking up the way of things at the Volkov mansion.

It had been a week of stepping on glass, and I was done.

“Please tell Kirill to meet me in our room when he’s home,” I say as I leave the cookies I’d baked on the cooling trays in the kitchen, lifting my freshly poured tea from the counter and walking, with Pavel walking close behind, to the stairs. At the base, I turn to my new guard and lift a hand. “I’m only going upstairs. There is no need to follow.”

“I will be outside the door, if there is anything you need.”

I already know there is no use in fighting with him. The man is immovable when he’s made a decision. When it comes to security—especially mine—it appears his word is law.

Over his shoulder, I shoot a glare at Maxim who only shrugs.

Spinning around, I take the stairs quickly. The pitter patter of little kitty paws thuds next to me, with the clickity clack of Simba’s paws not far behind.

I don’t look at Pavel as I move inside my bedroom, shutting the door hard in his face.

I dislike being so watched. I can’t even go to the bathroom in what is supposed to be my own home without a man waiting outside the door.

I don’t know what happened to make Kirill so afraid, but I’m over it.

Making myself comfortable in the chaise chair by the window, I watch as the sun beats down on the land. The days are growing longer, the sun beating brighter. It won’t be long before the land drinks up the snow to display fields of green.

With a chirpy meow, Nala settles into the crook of my hip while Rafiki hangs over the side of the chair to paw at Simba. Poor Simba looses a doggy huff as Rafiki hops down to wiggle his way between Simba’s front paws for a snuggle. He might act like he doesn’t love the kittens, but I know better. Simba would tear anyone who hurt his brother and sister from limb to limb.

Dropping my hand to his head, I give him a loving stroke. “Good boy, Simba.”

I’m disturbed by a weight settling behind me on the chaise. Sleep clings heavy to me as a big hand strokes the hair from my face. I groan, exhausted.

“Sleeping again?” Kirill muses softly.

I grunt. “Go away.”

“What are you doing while I’m at work to be this tired, little wife?”

“Nothing,” I huff, trying to swat at his petting hand. “That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t do anything with Pavel following me around like he does.”

“You baked cookies today,” he says. “They are delicious, by the way. Tatiana saved me one.”

“One?” I frown. “There’s none left?”

“You made a batch of cookies in a house where men roam all day, and you thought they would survive?”

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