Page 72 of The Wrong Brother

I glance toward the main gallery where Rus now stands surrounded by museum board members like some elegant criminal king.

Ryder studies me carefully for a long moment before speaking again. “You know Andrei basically chased him out of Colorado, right?”

And then it hits me: this is an opportunity. On the off chance that Ruslan Smirnov decides not to hold up his end of the bargain, I may be able to hold some leverage against him. So I play dumb to learn more about this man I’m temporarily tied to.

“What?”

“That’s been the rumor for years.” Ryder shrugs lightly. “After their mother died, things got ugly between them. Power struggles. Business fights. Family problems. Depends on who you ask.”

A strange heaviness settles in my chest. I glance across the room, thinking of the gardens and how they softened him.

“And he’d already lost his dad at that point.” The words come out quiet. Not really meant for Ryder to catch, but of course she does.

“You sound sympathetic,” she notes carefully.

“I’m not. It’s just I don’t agree with the kind of man Ruslan has become, but obviously Andrei needs to be put in his place. Someone like him shouldn’t be in a position of real power.”

Ryder looks amused, and I realize that her definition of the people in “real power” probably differs from mine.

The reality is that Ruslan is still dangerous. Still involved in things I probably don’t even want to know about. I’ve overheard enough conversations in Russian to understand that much.

But understanding someone and excusing them are different things.

Aren’t they?

“I just…” I exhale slowly. “I can understand wanting revenge.”

Ryder’s eyes sharpen immediately. “That’s dangerous territory.”

Tell me about it.

Across the museum, Rus turns slightly and finds me instantly despite the crowd between us. His gaze flicks briefly to Ryder, cool and assessing, before returning to me. Then he starts walking.

Striding.

Eyes locked on mine in a way that makes my heart thud and my legs weak.

One moment Ryder is leaning casually beside me beneath a massive abstract sculpture, and the next Ruslan appears at my side like something summoned. His hand settles low against my back automatically, fingers warm through the fabric of my dress.

His pale eyes move over Ryder first, cool and assessing beneath the museum lights. “You know each other.”

Not a question.

Ryder smiles slowly, entirely too amused by the situation. “Miami.”

Something unreadable flickers briefly across Ruslan’s face at that single word before his attention returns to me. Confusion, I think, because if he’s kept up his end of the bargain, he knows nothing about Miami.

“You disappeared,” he chides quietly, a warning in his voice like molten chocolate.

“I was standing twenty feet away.”

“And yet.”

The comment should irritate me. Instead, heat creeps embarrassingly into my face. Ryder notices immediately.

A low laugh escapes her as she looks between us. “You two look good together.”

“Oh my God,” I mutter.