“I’m very aware.”
I look up at him and giggle. “Please don’t tell me you tried to find out where I live?”
“Fine. I won’t tell you.” He smiles almost timidly.
There’s a softness in his expression that’s disarming. I’m used to his smirks, those wolfish grins he shows the world to say he’s the shit. But this smile… it’s genuine. Sincere. Earnest, even. It makes him look softer somehow, as if all his hard, sharp edges were polished smooth just for me.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He chuckles, placing a finger gently under my chin.
“I thought you liked it when I look at you,” I taunt, but there’s little heat behind my words.
“I do like it. Very much,” he says softly, running his fingers through my hair. “Especially when you’re like this.”
“Like this?” My brow tilts upward.
“Not biting my head off for something I said or did,” he coos, his long eyelashes hiding the shy tint in his eyes.
“Stop doing stupid shit, and I won’t have to bite your head off.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss on my temple.
I close my eyes and let his smoky clover scent envelop me. It takes real effort to pretend to hate him. An almost inhuman effort to act as if he didn’t affect me in any way.
But like this, I don’t have to put up any pretenses for a few seconds. I can just enjoy his tender kiss and let myself bask in it.
Of course, when he pulls away, I school my features, not letting on that I’m starting to get addicted to his sweet kisses. His passionate ones even more. And suddenly the memory of us in my dad’s club flashes through my mind, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
“Are you cold,dusha moya?” he asks, vivid concern in his voice. “Let’s get you back inside and warm you up.”
I don’t have it in me to admit I’m not the slightest bit cold, not when the memory of Kirill’s mouth on me still coils low in my stomach, scorching me from within. I let him lead me back into the main house, as he offers to make me a hot cup of tea to warm me up. However, as we step into the large kitchen, I’m disappointed to see we won’t be alone.
“Ah, Mikhail, I didn’t know you were back,” Kirill says, glancing at his brother and then at me, his hand on the small of my back dropping fast.
Mikhail doesn’t respond. Instead, he rises from his seat and walks straight toward me.
So this is the famous Bratva Pakhan.
Where Kirill is all dark temptation, Mikhail is the opposite. Almost as if he’s meant to be the other side of the same coin. Graced with wavy blond hair and clear blue eyes, the only thing linking the two brothers is the same hard jaw and soldier’s build that marks them both as dangerous.
“I’m glad to see you’re finally feeling well enough to be on your feet,” he says, taking my hand and brushing his lips over myknuckles. I feel Kirill tense beside me, but if he has any issues with his brother kissing my hand, he doesn’t voice them.
“Yes, I’m feeling much better now, all things considered,” I reply, a bit curtly, which thePakhanpicks up on instantly.
“I must apologize for that incident. It was never our intent for any of Vincent’s children to be harmed. My profound apologies.”
“Then I guess we’re good, right? You said sorry, and that’s the end of that?”
Unlike Kirill’s dark gaze, Mikhail’s icy blue stare freezes a person from the inside. It’s not just the look of an efficient killer, but that of a merciless king—one who doesn’t suffer fools easily.
“You’re right,” he says after a long beat, surprising me. “It will take more than an apology to mend the fracture my organization has with your family. It will take time for me to decide how to repair such a crack, but I hope to restore that trust one day.”
“And why is it so important to you to be on my father’s good side?” I ask outright.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Kirill’s jaw tick, but he remains uncharacteristically silent.
“The Outfit has earned my allegiance by vanquishing my enemies, and for that, a debt is owed. And Petrovs always pay their debts.”
“You sound like a Lannister. It didn’t end well for them, you know?”
