Page 157 of The Wrong Brother

He studies me for a moment before admitting, “The FBI taught you well.”

The words hang gently between us. They’re not accusatory or resentful, just the truth.

I lower my eyes. “There are parts of that time I’d rather leave behind. I think in the end, I realized I wasn’t really cut out for it. Not cold enough.”

I brace myself for questions. Instead, Rus simply nods.

“When you’re ready, if you want to, you can tell me about it.”

My eyes narrow, because of everyone; Ruslan Smirnov has exactly the kind of access to pull my record. Even the blacklisted information—everything that happened in Miami, the coercion, the threats, the eventual desperate bid to put my tormentor behind bars with the help of his daughter.

“You don’t want details?”

“I want them. But I don’t need them tonight.”

Something inside my chest twists painfully. After everything we’ve been through together, he still chooses patience. It’s more than I would have expected from a crime boss, more than I thought I’d ever get from a man.

I reach up and touch his cheek. His eyes close for the briefest moment beneath my fingertips.

“I missed you,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“I hated sleeping without you.”

“I hated leaving.”

He leans forward, brushing his forehead lightly against mine.

I kiss him first.

Slowly.

Without urgency.

He answers the kiss with one hand settling gently at my waist, the other cradling the back of my neck as though I’m something infinitely precious. Every touch is careful, every movement asking rather than taking, and I melt into him before I even realize I’m doing it.

When we finally separate, I smile up at him.

“I love you.”

The words escape before I can catch them. His breath catches.

For one beautiful second, I think he’s going to answer. Instead, something changes behind his eyes.

He steps back.

Just one pace.

Then another.

I frown. “Rus?”

He turns away, clasping his hands behind his back as he begins to pace slowly. The movement is familiar now, something he does whenever his thoughts become too large to contain. A knot forms in my stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

He stops beside the window, looking out into the darkness where snowflakes continue drifting through the pines.