Page 20 of Cruel Kiss

"Nothing more," I repeat out loud, so I believe it.

Like I summoned Beetlejuice with that incantation, the doorway darkens.

Ronan is standing there, filling the frame, like he heard me thinking. I wouldn't be surprised if he did. The man hears everything.

"Shouldn't you be downstairs barking at squirrels that stray too close to the perimeter?" I snap testily.

His shadow remains stock still. "I heard you talking to yourself. Thought I'd see if you cared to expand the conversation."

"Nah, I'm good. I do that now. It's my one remaining hobby."

I lurch up off the bed. I want to be on my feet for this, and more importantly, I want to start this chat on my terms, not his.

"Okay," I declare. "Here's how it's going to go. You can stay. In the house. Because I have two kids and somebody sent a killer after them, and you're the only person I know who can make sure that doesn't happen again."

He nods, once. Nothing more.Nothing more.

"But—and let me be exceedingly clear about this—you are not forgiven. This is not us getting back together. You don't sleep in my bed. You sleep in the corner chair, or the guest room, and above all, you keep your hands to yourself. Now, repeat that back so I can make sure you got it through your thick skull."

He raises his hands as if to show me where they will remain at all times. "This is not forgiveness. I sleep far away. I don't touch you. Not even if you beg me to."

I roll my eyes. "Cut that shit out, too, while we're at it."

"If you insist,kotyonok."

I jab a finger in his direction. "And that shit! As far as I'm concerned, you're furniture. Like a lock on the door. Capisce?"

But Ronan shakes his head.

"Which part of that was debatable?" I cry out, irritated beyond belief.

Finally, he cracks a smile. "In the Bratva, we don't say, 'capisce.' You would say,Ponyal?"

The only reasonable response flies fast and obvious from my lips. "I hate you, you know."

"So you keep saying. I believe you about as much as the fed did."

I turn my back on him so he doesn't see me biting back a frustrated smile. "Whatever. Get out of my room, Ronan. I've had enough aggravation for one night. For a whole lifetime, really."

He chuckles as he slips away. "In my experience, life contains an endless supply of the stuff. Goodnight, Ms. Meadows. Sleep tight. I'll be watching."

He moves in the next morning with almost nothing.

I don't know what I expected. Trunks, maybe. A valet. A grand piano gilded to the brim.

But Ronan Akov arrives at my door with a single black duffel bag and his phones, and… that's it. He sets the bag down in the guest room, plugs the phones into the wall, and just like that, I have a new roommate.

What he doesn't travel light on is men.

There's always somebody outside now. A dark coat at the corner. A different dark coat across the street two hours later. A car that idles for exactly forty minutes before it glides away and a new car takes its spot.

My neighbors probably think I've become somebody very important or somebody very in trouble. I guess they'd be right on both counts.

On the second day, the door goes up. My old front door had been leaning against the railing for two nights, splintered where Ronan tore it off its hinges. Now, there's a new one, and it is not a normal door.

For one thing, it's a hell of a lot heavier. When it closes, it thumps shut with a sound like a bank vault and a pneumatic hissfollows. There's a new lock on it, too, some sleek matte-black thing that NASA surely had a hand in designing.

The intrusions don't stop there. Day three begins with a scream.