Page 48 of The Wrong Brother

Wait—

“Am I?”

But Ruslan’s already disappeared inside. Hesitating, I follow, then stand dumbfounded in the foyer. There’s afoyer.For a hotel room.

I should’ve known better. It’s not quite a penthouse, but not a suite, either. Larger, longer. Running a third of the length of the floor, an open floor plan centered around slate-gray and natural stone. There’s a fireplace, a kitchen tucked off the living area that’s a miniature of the one in Ruslan’s house. I stand stock-still as the assistants file in behind me, slipping off to find the bedrooms and unpack.

“No.”

Ruslan glances back at me calmly. “No?”

“We are not sharing a suite.”

“We are.”

“Absolutely not.”

His expression shifts slightly. Amusement. Annoying man.

“I require proximity during public appearances,” he says smoothly. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re here only for leverage, Emma. Or as anything other than my lover.”

That word should sound ridiculous coming from his mouth, but he practically purrs it. His eyes drop down to the lapels of my jacket, and I remember the chocolate, how greedy he was, his hands under my ass.

No.I can’t be this close to him.

I glare at him. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“Emma.”

“No, actually, I’m pretty sure normal fake-dating arrangements include separate bedrooms?—”

Ruslan suddenly crosses the distance between us. Fast enough that my breath catches.

His hand closes around the back of my neck before I fully process the movement, and then his mouth crashes against mine hard enough to erase coherent thought entirely.

God.

The kiss doesn’t feel like seduction, but possession. Sharp heat and restrained aggression underneath it all. My body melts traitorously anyway.

I hate myself.

Ruslan pulls back just enough for me to breathe, forehead resting briefly against mine while his fingers tighten slightly against my neck.

“Play the doting girlfriend,” he growls softly.

The command sends a pulse of heat straight through me, despite the alarm bells screaming in my head. There are other people in the suite with us. What if they come out and see?

But a part of me doesn’t care. A part of me wants to find that bedroom and let him kiss me like that again.

Dangerous. Everything about this is dangerous.

I swallow hard, trying to recover enough dignity to glare at him properly.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” I whisper back.