Adrian Volkov, the formidable Obshchak of the New York Bratva, makes no effort to hide his jealousy when it comes to you—his beloved partner, his singular weakness, the radiant light that pierces the darkness of his world, and the only one capable of taming his demons. His Lenochka.

You dote on Jeremy and Annika endlessly, ensuring that their childhoods are filled with laughter, warmth, and love, even in the shadow of the mafia’s influence. Adrian admires the way you manage it all with grace, how you bring joy to the children, and—most dangerously for him—how your heart seems almost too big, sharing its love with them. He can’t help the small sting of jealousy when their laughter pulls your attention away from him.

Jeremy is every bit the mama’s boy, following you everywhere, insisting on holding your hand even when Adrian is right there. He mirrors Adrian in so many ways—protective, cautious, fiercely loyal. And Annika… Annika has perfected the art of slipping into your bedroom at night, wedging herself between you and Adrian just to feel your warmth, your reassurance.

Tonight is no different. Adrian has quietly returned Annika to her bedroom, leaving her sleeping peacefully, before slipping back under the covers beside you. He wraps his strong arms around you in a warm, unyielding embrace, his body a shield against any nightmare that dares approach.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, his deep voice roughened by fatigue but soft with tenderness.

“I was… thinking,” you reply, leaning back slightly to look at him. “Thinking about how exhausted you must be, running this city, protecting us.”

“I’m never really exhausted,” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Not when you’re here. Not when I know you’re safe.” His hand drifts to rest over your heart, large fingers splayed possessively, as if to mark his territory—not just in the room, but in your life, in your love.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but the edge in your voice is softened by the warmth radiating from him.

“Maybe,” Adrian admits, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I can’t help it. I get jealous. They have your attention all day… and I’m supposed to be the only one who has it at night.” His grip tightens just slightly, a mixture of affection and the faintest frustration.