Page 27 of The Wrong Brother

Kate ignores that completely and wanders farther into the room instead, peering curiously at the half-packed suitcase near the bed. It’s mine, although I don’t know when or how it appeared—had someone been in the room?

“So, are you staying here now?”

“No,” the answer comes way too quickly. And it’s more of a wish than the truth.

Her eyebrows lift.

“I mean—I don’t think so.”

“Hm.”

Something about the sound is deeply familiar. My stomach drops as I realize she somehow has the exact same judgmental little hum Ruslan does.

Terrifying.

Kate climbs onto the edge of the bed without invitation. “He likes you.”

I blink at her. “What?”

“Uncle Russ.” She says it like it’s obvious. “He never lets people stay here this long.”

Stay here.As if it’s voluntary.

“This long?” I repeat faintly. “It’s been like…one day.”

Her eyebrows draw in, mouth pursed as if she can sense a lie. “Weren’t you here the other day, too?”

The bedroom door suddenly opens, and every muscle in my body tightens instantly.

Ruslan leans casually against the doorway, wearing dark slacks and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. His pale eyes move over me once—assessing, unreadable—before settling on Kate.

“There you are,” he says calmly.

Then his gaze slides back to mine. And just like that, all the fear I managed to forget for thirty seconds comes rushing back.

Kate watches me and Ruslan look at each other for approximately three seconds before grinning.

Not a normal grin, either. A dangerous little grin.

“Oh,” she says slowly. “There’s definitely something weird happening here.”

“Kate,” Ruslan warns.

She ignores him completely and slips off the bed, grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder again. I become painfully aware that I’m sitting in his guest bed wearing one of his shirts while his niece studies me like she’s trying to piece together a crime scene.

“So,” I say quickly before she can ask anything more traumatic, “you live here with your uncle?”

“Mhm.”

Ruslan is staring at me over the top of Kate’s blonde head, but I ignore eye contact. She’s already in the room; I might as well get as much info as I can out of her. Even if it is against his rules.

“And he…” I hesitate awkwardly. “Brings a lot of guests home?” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Because Kate’s expression changes instantly. Her eyes, which I notice now are brown, not pale like his, light up. “Are you jealous?”

I choke on whatmightbe a laugh, but is definitely mortification. Ruslan does, in fact, laugh—warm, low, the sound creating a pull in my belly that I try to ignore. A male voice sounds out in the hallway, and Ruslan glances over his shoulder in irritation. He gives me one fleeting look, as if to say,behave yourself,and steps out.

“No,” I snap, irritated at the mix of desire and embarrassment I’m feeling just now. At the hands of a preteen, no less. “I just didn’t realize he was was…hostingso many women, is all.”