Page 35 of The Wrong Brother

Stepan watches me carefully. “Dozens of men answer to you. Their families eat because you remain disciplined.”

My mind flashes briefly to Andrei smiling beside his fiancée on national television. On his face ten years ago, a sharper smile as I fled, bloodied and chased out of the only place that was my home.

Rage curls slow and hot beneath my ribs.

“He crossed a line years ago,” I say quietly.

“And you survived it.”

“So what? If I let something like that go, do you think our enemies won’t remember it? Won’t see it as a weakness?”

Silence stretches between us.

Stepan exhales through his nose eventually. “This woman is compromising your judgment.”

“No,” I correct softly. “She is presenting an opportunity.”

“To do what? Humiliate him publicly?”

I meet his eyes. “No. To destroy him properly. To expose him.”

Emma thinksI’mthe monster? She doesn’t even know that she’s already met the cruelest, most deceptive man in all of North America. And I plan on taking him down.

Chapter 9

Emma

By the second day,I’m officially losing my mind. The problem isn’t that Ruslan’s hovering; it’s that he isn’t.

True to his word, he disappears almost entirely after our meeting in the cottage. Meals appear like magic. Staff politely avoid answering my questions. Kate spends exactly forty-five minutes trying to teach me some horrifying mobile game before getting distracted by friends again.

But Russ?

Gone.

Which should be a relief. Instead, it feels strangely like punishment. Or maybe this is just a business deal?

Maybe you shouldn’t have made a deal with a mafia boss you slept with.

Okay, that traitorous voice in my head isn’t exactly right, because Ruslan didn’t admit to being a crime boss. Even if everything, and I meaneverything,points in that direction. And I haven’t agreed yet.

The last thing I should want is for him to come looking for me in his own house. I’m just a guest until we leave for Colorado. Or until I try to run again.

The contract arrives just after lunch, carried by a man in an immaculate gray suit who looks vaguely terrified of breathing too loudly near me.

“Mr. Smirnov asked that you review this.”Smirnov.So, at least some people know his secret.

By page three, I’m ready to commit murder.

“This is insane,” I mutter aloud, flipping another page aggressively. Non-disclosure clauses, security agreements, an outline of obligatory public appearances. The man, who I can only assume is a lawyer, shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, not exactly disagreeing.

Client agrees to submit to a complete background and security investigation prior to travel.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Startled, the lawyer looks directly at me. Then his eyes drop to the contract, and apparently, he knows exactly what page I’m on. He clears his throat.

I read the line again, pulse quickening. The room suddenly feels too warm, too close. Every terrible possibility flashes through my head at once.