Janina placed the last pieces of her underwear in the drawer before sitting on the bed to look at the room she had chosen after she arrived and Kieran told her to “pick any one of the bedrooms, except the first door on the right at the top of the stairs, because that’s mine.”
She’d spoken to Carla and Leon over dinner yesterday evening, and although the married couple had protested the need for her to move anywhere, they had eventually accepted her decision.
It hadn’t taken Janina long to pack up her few bits and pieces and move them into Kieran’s house, but she’d waited until early evening to do so. She didn’t want to look too eager to share Kieran’s house with him.
Even if she was.
She’d glanced into Kieran’s bedroom as she passed by in the hallway, the door having been left wide open. It was a little disappointing to see that it was as tidy as the rest of the house had been when she walked through to the stairs.
Spending her day off secluded in her suite of rooms in the Brunellis’ home probably hadn’t been a good idea, because it had given her too much time to think of what Kieran had told her in regard to her now being a possible target for retribution against her father.
Janina hadn’t even known who her father was until she was eighteen and moved out of the home of her foster parents and into accommodations close to where she was training to be a nurse. Until then, she had believed her name was Sokolova and she was an orphan. She had kept the name, but now knew she definitely wasn’t an orphan.
Having Boris Borzikov visit her and inform her he was her father and the most powerful man in the city, one who was talked about in hushed voices for fear of being overheard and offending him, had been devastating to someone who had lived her life beyond the notice of the government or the bratva who ruled the criminal underworld of Moscow with complete ruthlessness.
Only recently having discovered her twin sister was still alive—after Janina had believed she’d been shot dead alongside their mother when the little girls were aged only five—and had been living in the same city as her for the past sixteen years with other foster parents, had been even more of a shock.
Oh, Janina had understood after her father explained his reasoning in wanting to protect his two young daughters after the death of their mother. But understanding and accepting weren’t the same thing at all. For thirteen years, she had believed she didn’t have a father, and for sixteen years, she had thought her twin sister was dead, only to have them both returned to her in one shock followed by another.
Janina had made the decision to stay here in the States, after their father returned to Moscow, not just because it was where Marisha was and she wanted to get to know her twin again. It was also because Janina needed a fresh start away from their father and the danger that came with him being such a powerful man in the Russian underworld.
Except it seemed that danger existed for her here in the States too.
“All settled in?”
She raised her head, unable to see Kieran clearly as he stood in the open doorway across the room because her vision was slightly blurred from the tears she was trying to stop herself from crying. Because tears, as she knew from experience, actually solved nothing. They also had the added negative of making her look awful, with red-rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks, and a red nose.
Especially when Kieran always looked so effortlessly gorgeous. She was used to seeing him in those perfectly tailored suits and shirts and ties, so having him open the door to her earlier wearing fitted and faded jeans and a black polo top that clung to his wide shoulders and muscular chest and abs, had robbed her of breath for several seconds.
It had also made her realize it was going to be doubly hard not to reveal how much she was attracted to him now that they were actually living together.
Living together.
How different that might have sounded under other circumstances.
As it was, Janina had only succeeded in making life harder for herself.
Shit, one look into the blue eyes awash with tears in the pallor of Janina’s face and Kieran knew she was about to cry.
Generalization or not, like most men, Kieran was invariably rendered absolutely helpless by a woman’s tears. Especially if he was the one who had caused them. Although in this instance, he didn’t think that was the case.
At least, he couldn’t think of anything he had done wrong on the drive back from the hospital yesterday evening after Janina had finished her shift. He hadn’t seen her since, until she arrived on his doorstep a short time ago looking sexy as hell in a thick blue sweater the same color as her eyes and fitted black jeans.
He quickly crossed the bedroom until he could go down on his haunches in front of her and take both her hands into his much larger ones. “What is it? Don’t you like this bedroom?” The blue-and-white room looked okay to him, even if it wasn’t particularly feminine. “You can choose another one if you want to. Or have you changed your mind and would prefer to stay in the main house?”
She gave a firm shake of her head. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Whew.” He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That’s good to know after I spent all day tidying and cleaning the house.”
She gave a watery laugh. “You aren’t usually this tidy?”
He grimaced. “No.”
“I like knowing that about you.”
He eyed her curiously. “You do?”
She nodded, the movement dislodging the tears that had been clinging to her long lashes and causing them to fall down her cheeks. “It shows you aren’t perfect.” She quickly wiped those tears away.
“You thought I was perfect?” he repeated dubiously.
She gave another nod. “You always seem so…so put together. So in charge. As if nothing and no one could ever ruffle your inborn confidence. All the Price men have it. To be honest, it can be a little intimidating,” she admitted.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “But now you know I can be a slob, you feel less intimidated?”
She laughed. “I very much doubt your untidiness reaches a slob level.”
“You’d be surprised. Want to tell me what’s wrong? And don’t say you’re fine, because that’s what women always say. Usually when a man has seriously cocked up in some way.”
She sobered. “They do?”
“Oh yes,” he confirmed with feeling. “It’s usually just before they launch into a lengthy deluge about exactly why they aren’t fine at all and it’s the man’s fault that they aren’t.”
She gave him a considering glance. “Sounds like you know that from personal experience?”
Kieran returned that gaze warily, suspecting a trap of some kind. If so, how the hell was he supposed to answer her without falling down that particular rabbit hole? Fuck!
Not that he’d ever been in a relationship long enough to experience what he’d described for himself. Or in a relationship at all, in fact.
Living mainly on the estate and working for a man like Leon meant that the women Kieran met were usually interested in the power trip of being able to brag they had fucked one of Leon Brunelli’s bodyguards. Kieran always ensured those women enjoyed it as much as he did, but none of those women were what he wanted in a relationship.
None of which he intended sharing with Janina, the only woman he had ever wanted to make love with.
And the reason he hadn’t been with any woman for the past two months.
As first, he’d gone out to his favorite clubs in the city as usual on his evenings off, and there had been plenty of women he could have gone home and spent the night with. But none of them had appealed. After the first couple of weeks of having that happen, Kieran had stopped pretending he wanted to be with any other woman but Janina.
He had a feeling his blue balls were only going to get worse now that Janina was actually living in the same house as him.
He sighed. “I only know that from observing both my brother and my cousin fall into that trap with Marisha and Natalia, and very occasionally Leon with Carla,” he finally dismissed. “Which isn’t to say I’m not willing to take that risk in order to get an honest answer to the question I asked you,” he added firmly. “You were crying a minute ago. I want to know why.”
She drew in a ragged breath before speaking. “I thought when I left Moscow that I could make a fresh start here, away from my father and the danger that surrounds him. This new threat you’ve told me about, and the increased security, tells me that hasn’t happened.”
He gave her hands a squeeze. “I’m not going to let anyone get close enough to hurt you. Do you believe me?” he prompted at her silence.
She released the bottom lip she’d been chewing, revealing it as being red and slightly puffy. And so fucking kissable, Kieran couldn’t stop staring at it.
“I know you will try your best not to let that happen,” she answered him.
Kieran’s cock leaked pre-cum at its tip from how kissable Janina’s lips were. His member throbbed from how desirable the fullness of her breasts, slender waist, and curvaceous hips were.
Inviting Janina to share this house with him had been a bad idea.
A very bad idea!
But having her doubt his ability to keep her safe was fucking unacceptable. “Come downstairs with me, and we can continue this conversation while I make spag-bol for dinner—spaghetti Bolognese,” he explained when she looked puzzled. “It’s cooked spaghetti and minced beef in a rich Italian tomato sauce.”
“I know what it is now you’ve said the full name.” She nodded. “I thought you said you usually ate with the other men.”
“Not tonight,” he dismissed briskly.
“Please don’t change your routine because of me.”
He grinned. “Given a choice between eating my dinner with a dozen other men, who all feel no qualms about belching and farting and scratching their balls as they watch the game after they’ve finished eating, and a beautiful woman who not only looks amazing but smells delicious, I assure you there’s absolutely no contest.”
Her frown lifted. “But won’t they wonder where you are?”
“Do I look as if I give a fu—care,” he corrected dryly, “as to what they think? I don’t give explanations for my actions, Janina. I’m either there with them or I’m not. Tonight, I’m not.”
Janina continued to look at him searchingly for several long seconds before rising to her feet. “Then I’ll help you make dinner.”
Kieran released her hands as he straightened. “Do you even know how to make spag-bol?”
“Not a clue,” she dismissed. “I can be your sous chef instead.”
“My what?”
“From what I’ve observed, they’re the person who does all the work while the chef takes all the praise.”
“Sous chef it is,” he accepted lightly.