Page 89 of The Wrong Brother

“Frank,” I say coldly.

“Ruslan,” he replies pleasantly.

Kate gasps dramatically. “Frank is there? Hi, Frank!”

“Ciao, piccola.”

Traitor. Kate beams at the screen before immediately turning back to me. “Did you buy Emma flowers yet?”

I stare at her. Frank looks moments away from cardiac arrest from trying not to laugh harder.

“I have business meetings,” I say carefully.

“That means no. If you want her to stick around, Uncle Rus, you have to treat her right.”

“I am hanging up now.”

Kate grins wickedly. “You’re blushing.”

“I do not blush.”

“You totally blush.”

I end the call before she can say anything else.

Silence fills the car for approximately three seconds before Frank loses the battle entirely and bursts into laughter beside me. I rub a hand slowly over my jaw.

“Not one word.”

That doesn’t deter the old man. “Ruslan Smirnov being bullied by a twelve-year-old girl may be the greatest thing I have ever witnessed.”

I stare out the window again, though it does absolutely nothing to cool the heat lingering irritatingly at the back of my neck. Somewhere across Denver, Emma is probably still sleeping. It’s just past 9 a.m., but she and Frank stayed up last night chatting. Even though he got hisownsuite down the hall.

Apparently, my niece has decided she belongs there. We pull up outside a massive white stone building, completely featureless and windowless; a textile warehouse. Immediately, four people step out onto the street, all dressed in billowing costumes.

“At least one of us is going to enjoy this,” I mutter as Frank practically skips out of his side of the car.

But this is…nice. The crossing of two parts of my life that I’ve tried to keep separate, controlled. Frank has been a friend for so long, and it’s not as if he doesn’t know what kind of operations Lord&Lion hide. And Emma…strangely, Emma fits.

She shouldn’t.

And I shouldn’t like it. But as I step out onto the sidewalk, ready to shake hands with the entourage that will be leading us through purchases today, I realize that she fits very naturally into my very unnatural life.

* * *

Frank waits until we’re back in the car before speaking again.

The amusement from Kate’s call fades from his expression as the driver pulls away from the textile district and merges into late-afternoon traffic.

“You have been gone too long,” Frank says finally.

I keep my gaze on the city outside. “I’m aware.”

“Are you?” His tone sharpens slightly. “Because California is beginning to feel your absence.”

That draws my attention back to him. Frank rarely pushes directly unless something actually matters.

“Stepan hasn’t said anything.”