Page 41 of The Wrong Brother

“For now.”

He steps closer to the bed slowly, pale eyes fixed completely on mine now. The amusement fades from his expression piece by piece until something sharper settles underneath.

Ruslan braces one hand beside my head against the mattress and lowers his voice.

“I will skip the formal investigation.”

Something about the wording makes my stomach tighten.

“But understand this clearly, Emma,” he says softly. “I will eventually learn everything about you, anyway.”

The certainty in his voice is terrifyingly honest. And I believe him.

Chapter 10

Ruslan

Emma owns almost nothing.That information shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I stand in the doorway of the guest room the next morning, watching her attempt to pack for Colorado with one half-empty suitcase and an expression that suggests she already knows I am judging the contents.

“Please stop looking at my belongings like they personally offended you,” she mutters without turning around.

“There are approximately four shirts in this suitcase.”

“I was on vacation, Ruslan. I was supposed to be leaving by now.”

My eyes flash up at that admission. “What have you told—are there people waiting for you?” I ask sharply.

Emma sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. I feel a mixture of anxiety and that protective instinct that I can’t seem to shake around her. I promised her I wouldn’t ask questions about who she was, where she came from; which means I can’t protect her from the things she wants to hide away.

“I told my family I found a job out here. That I’m staying for a bit.”

A strange silence settles between us as Emma rearranges the same sparse clothing again.

I move farther into the room, surveying the disaster more carefully. Jeans. Two pairs of shorts. A handful of casual tops. One decent dress. A pair of boots that have clearly survived war crimes.

No formalwear. No winter clothing appropriate for Colorado this time of year, which will be shifting into autumn soon.

“No,” I decide flatly.

Emma freezes mid-fold. “No, what?”

“This won’t do.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “Get dressed.”

“Iamdressed.” In those sinful black leggings, I can’t look away. No, I need her in something else.

“Properly. The jeans. This top.”

“Wow.”

I’m already texting security to prepare the car before she can argue further.

Unfortunately—

“Are we going somewhere?!”

Kate appears in the doorway like a cat who licked the cream, a devious look on her face, blonde hair already escaping a braid. Her eyes light up instantly at the sight of both of us standing together.

I suppress a sigh. “Yes,” I say carefully. Because if I leave the house, she’s coming. But Emma doesn’t know that, and shoots me a confused look.