Page 99 of The Wrong Brother

“Come here,l’vyonak.”

My heart betrays me immediately. The nickname has become dangerous in just the space of a few hours; Rus’ emblem is thelion. He built his empire on the image of the lion. In fact, before tonight, I would’ve said his restlessness matches that of a pacing lion.

Which makes that word,l’vyonak,feel deeper than an endearment.

I take one step forward.

Then another.

Rus slides a hand around my waist and pulls me against him. His other hand settles against my jaw, tilting my face upward before his mouth finds mine.

The kiss is slow, and somehow that makes it worse. There’s nothing to hide behind. My heart pounds, then slows, as I melt against him, wrapping my arms beneath his jacket and around his hard waist.

His lips move against mine with a patience that feels almost worshipful, and something inside me begins to unravel.

The room seems to disappear around us.

When he finally pulls back, I’m breathing hard. So is he. His forehead rests lightly against mine.

“Rus...”

His hands slide lower.

One settles against my waist while the other skims the side of my dress. The expensive fabric shifts beneath his fingers as he draws me closer, his expression tightening slightly when he looks down at me.

The neckline of the dress dips just enough that he notices. His thumbs brush lightly over the sensitive peaks visible beneath the silk.

A shiver runs through me. His eyes darken.

“God.”

The word comes out rough. His forehead drops briefly against mine before he exhales.

“I need you.”

It sounds more like a confession than a declaration. Because if I’ve absorbed anything in the last month, it’s that Ruslan Smirnov doesn’t need anything. Not power, money, approval—yet somehow, he’s standing in front of me looking almost vulnerable.

And that’s what breaks me.

My eyes sting unexpectedly. I love him. Somewhere between California and Colorado, between arguments and danger, I fell for him. It was in the stolen moments. Watching him be a man, not a monster.

He infuriates me, frightens me, and protects people with the same hands capable of destroying them. He adores his niece. He’s still angry for the little boy who lost too much too young.

The truth settles deep inside me, and when I exhale, it feels like acceptance.

His expression shifts immediately. “What’s the matter, Emma?”

I laugh shakily. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“That is obviously not true.”

I shake my head. Because if I tell him now, I don’t think there’s any taking it back. Instead, I reach for him.

His eyes soften. Then he kisses me again. The world narrows to warmth and familiar hands and the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. Together we move deeper into the suite, leaving the lights of Denver glowing beyond the windows.

For once, neither of us talks about Andrei. For once, there is no revenge.

Only the fragile, dangerous thing growing between us.