Page 98 of The Wrong Brother

Then Rus smiles again, charming and terrifying all at once. “To the bride and groom.”

A few hesitant guests lift their glasses. Others look deeply uncomfortable. My handshakes as I lift my own, pasting on a smile and trying to look anywhere but at the main table.

Andrei stares at Rus with naked hatred now, all traces of that political polish stripped away. For one awful second, I genuinely think he might cross the room and attack him in front of everyone.

I almostwantit to happen.

But it’s Victoria who catches my attention, because she looks afraid. Not embarrassed; afraid.

Her fingers tighten around the stem of her champagne glass while Andrei leans slightly toward her, murmuring something beneath his breath that no one else can hear. She immediately straightens in response.

Beside me, Rus sits back down calmly and takes another sip of champagne, like he didn’t just threaten his brother publicly in front of half of Denver society.

Suddenly, horrifyingly, I realize something I’ve been resisting for weeks. Ruslan may be a criminal. He may command violent men and run an empire built on corruption and fear.

But sitting here tonight, watching the coldness in Andrei’s eyes while his terrified new wife forces herself to smile beside him, I thinkhemight actually be worse than any BratvaPakhan.

Even the one sitting right beside me.

Chapter 26

Emma

The driveback to the hotel is strangely quiet, but not uncomfortable. The silence feels weighted by everything left unsaid at the wedding reception and everything that happened afterward.

Rus drives with one hand on the wheel, his attention fixed on the dark Colorado road ahead. Shortly after the speech, he reached out to the driver and asked that he have the car dropped off for our use. Seeing Ruslan slightly disheveled, brows knit and gaze fixed on the asphalt, makes me think he needed this. He needed the distraction of driving instead of the luxury of being driven. The city lights blur past the windows in streaks of gold and white, disappearing behind us as we make our way back toward downtown Denver.

I keep stealing glances at him.

He should be furious. After that speech, after publicly provoking Andrei in front of half the city’s elite, I expected him to be ready to go to war. Instead, he’s completely quiet. There’s a stillness to him that feels…new.

It’s unsettling.

The elevator ride to our suite is no better. My pulse seems determined to rocket right out of my throat while we stand shoulder to shoulder in the mirrored box. The scent of his cologne wraps around me every time the elevator shifts slightly, and I become painfully aware of how close he is.

The doors slide open.

We walk silently down the hallway. The suite door closes behind us with a quiet click.

And suddenly we’re alone.

I set my clutch on the entry table and turn toward him.

“That speech was insane.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“It got the desired reaction.”

I stare at him. “You’re impossible.”

His gaze lingers on me for a long moment.

Then he crosses the room.

Slowly, deliberately, Rus reaches up and brushes a loose curl behind my ear. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that it steals every prepared argument from my head.