Page 73 of The Wrong Brother

Ruslan’s thumb brushes once against the back of my waist, like he enjoys my embarrassment entirely too much.

Ryder only grows more entertained. “No, seriously. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re being very dramatic.”

“She means sexually tense,” Rus says calmly.

I nearly choke on air. Ryder bursts out laughing.

“There he is,” she says, pointing lightly toward him. “That’s the exact Bratva bluntness I’ve grown to love in my own husband.”

“Bluntness?” I repeat weakly.

She waves one hand vaguely between us. “The tailored suits. The scary eye contact. The criminal charisma. They all act like they walked out of some luxury cologne ad while threatening violence.”

Against my will, I glance at Ruslan. That’s a mistake. He looks too good in the tux, tempting and lethal and expensive all at once.

Beautiful and terrifying.

Unfortunately, both things can apparently exist at once.

Rus notices me looking, and one corner of his mouth lifts slightly, smug. I immediately look away.

Ryder catches the entire exchange with visible delight. “Yeah,” she says knowingly. “Exactly like that.” She sighs, shaking her head. “Happened to me, too, girl. You might as well stop trying to resist.”

Heat floods my face harder. “This conversation is awful.”

“It’s honest,” Ryder counters.

Ruslan looks entirely unbothered by any of this. If anything, he seems calmer than he did earlier, some of the sharpness in him easing now that he’s standing beside me again. I think back to what he said the other day…that I make him calmer.

It shouldn’t make me feel good. Shouldn’t make me soften toward him.

Ryder’s expression softens unexpectedly as she studies me for a moment. Then she says quietly, “You look alive again.”

The comment catches me completely off guard.

“What?”

She shrugs lightly, but there’s something gentler beneath it now. “Back in Miami, you looked exhausted all the time. Like you were surviving instead of living. Especially at my father’s trial.”

The words settle uncomfortably deep inside my chest. Because she’s right.

I think about the last two years. The FBI disaster. Andrei. Running. Hiding. Failing. Existing from one disaster to the next while slowly convincing myself my life was already over.

Then somehow, I ended up here.

Ruslan’s hand remains steady against my back, grounding and dangerous all at once. Around us, the charity gala continues glittering beneath museum lights while reporters chase Andrei and Victoria through another room.

A normal life waits over there, or at least the semblance of one: respect, justice, strength.

Yet standing here beside Ryder and Ruslan feels strangely more honest, more real.

Which says deeply concerning things about my current life choices.

Ryder studies me one last time before giving me a faint smile. “Just be careful, Emma.”

I glance sideways at Ruslan.Too late for that.