It’s the only time I see real confusion crease his brow, enough to lighten my pissed-off mood.
“It’s a show, brother,” Kirill says, finally speaking. “She’s referring to a TV show.”
“Ah. I see. I’m unfamiliar with the reference, but I can assure you real life differs from fiction. In my world, the consequences for one’s actions haverealrepercussions.” And with thatominous remark hanging in the air, he turns his attention to Kirill. “Have you shown Stella the grounds? I’m sure she’s been locked away for so long she could use some fresh air.”
“We just came from doing that. I was about to make her some tea—”
“Then please, don’t let me interrupt,” Mikhail cuts in. “Stella, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you will feel well enough to join us for dinner tonight.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Glad to hear it. Stella.” He gives me a curt nod in goodbye. “Kiryushka,” Mikhail says before leaving the room.
Kirill’s fists ball at his sides as he crosses to the counter and starts rummaging the cabinets in search of a teapot.
“So that was yourPakhan, huh?” I ask, my gaze never wavering from the fuming expression on his face. Kirill nods once, still too pissed to use his words. “Friendly, wasn’t he?” I add sarcastically. “I can see why he’s king. Even his own flesh and blood are scared of him.”
“Loyalty is coaxed in many ways,milaya,” Kirill mutters through gritted teeth, finally finding the kettle and filling it with water.
I sit on the stool near the kitchen island and watch him set the teapot to boil, then grab some loose tea leaves from a container and sprinkle them into a little silver tea infuser.
“What doesKiryushkamean?” I ask, since his mood soured the moment Mikhail called him that.
“It’s a childish nickname.” His jaw twitches. “The women in my family used to call me that when I was younger, and my older brothers still throw it at me whenever they think I’ve done something wrong.”
I don’t dare ask Kirill to explain what he could have possibly done for Mikhail to call him that. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with me.
“If I remember correctly,” I say lightly, “you once told me a little old word shouldn’t affect a person so much. That it was just a word. A small, insignificant word.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” A tiny smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, you did.” I nod, smiling. “So tell me, what does this insignificant word mean anyway?Kiryushka?” I try to repeat the word in Russian, though I’m almost positive I butchered it.
“‘One who does not deceive,’” he says flatly.
“That’s not so bad. It’s better thanprincipessa, don’t you think?”
“Not when your brothers use it to call you out on a lie.”
“And what lie was Mikhail trying to call you out on?” The question flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. Kirill looks at me with something frighteningly close to longing, and I immediately regret opening my stupid mouth. Ever so quickly, I push myself off the stool and move to sit in a nearby nook instead, just to get some distance from that unnerving look. “Brothers were put on this earth to be pains in the ass,” I add, pretending I didn’t see anything in Kirill’s eyes. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“What’s this I hear? Who’s a pain in the ass?” A guy who looks like a younger, cockier version of Kirill says as he strolls into the room.
“Case in point,” Kirill mutters under his breath at the peacock-looking newcomer, before he makes an introduction. “Stella, this is Kostya, my younger brother. Kostya, Stella.”
With an ear-to-ear grin, theYungbluddoppelganger slides into the seat across from me, his pitch-black eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Well, hello there,” he coos, placing his closed fists under his chin, leaning in closer on the table to stare at me. “I’ve beendying to finally meet you, Stella. I’ve heard a lot about you. Emphasis on a lot.”
“Konstantin,” Kirill warns through gritted teeth.
“Don’t mind him,” Kostya says, waving a dismissive hand in Kirill’s direction as if shooing away a fly. “He gets grouchy when he doesn’t get his way.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I say, mimicking his form and resting my chin on my hands too, amused at the youngest Petrov already.
Unlike Mikhail, he doesn’t have an intimidating bone in his body. In fact, his carefree nature and cocky attitude remind me a lot of my own twin brothers. Yep, Kostya is giving a strong Enzo-and-Lucky chaos vibe.
“So are you still mad this one got you shot?” he asks casually.
