Page 34 of The Russian's Forced Bride
I shrugged. “You wanted us to meet up. Why?”
He leaned against the booth, draping one hand over it. “Needed to see my big sister. I know I said I didn’t want anything from you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know you.”
My brows furrowed. I still wasn’t into the whole idea of suddenly bonding with my half-brother, but I did have to admit that I was curious about him.
“Your mom,” I began saying, “where was she from?”
Brandon shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he took a sip from his espresso before answering me. “Barcelona. She had dark hair. Like cocoa.”
“And Dad? You said he abandoned you both? How did you know about me then? Were you in touch with him?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Brandon laughed, gesturing with his hands to calm me down, but I didn’t have time, and I needed as much information from him as I could get. I couldn’t just blindly trust him because we were related.
“First of all, our—” Brandon made an inclusive gesture, pointing from me to him. “Our father was a dick. Second of all, he did abandon me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a curious little shit. I knew his name, and believe it or not, Dad’s actually pretty famous.” He chuckled.
“Right…” I drawled. Dad was popular, so it couldn’t have been hard to find out where we lived.
I shook my head and bit my lip as I thought hard. I was searching for loopholes that Joaquin had used to trace Dad all the way to the Kamarov mansion. I was looking for clues—anything that might help me find Joaquin. And my curiosity toward Brandon wasn’t just plain curiosity. It was a heavy suspicion.
“You don’t still trust me…do you?” Brandon asked, snapping my attention back to him. The smile that had been plastered on his face had now faltered, leaving a blank expression on his dark features.
He leaned forward, placing his arms on the wooden table between us. “You think I had something to do with that bastard’s death…don’t you?”
I gulped hard as I held his gaze. It was strange seeing him look so serious since I was used to him smiling and grinning all the time.
But there was no need to deny it anymore.
“Yes, everything about you is suspicious,” I admitted.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And if I did admit that I killed our father, what could you possibly do about it, Arlette?”
The air around us suddenly thickened with tension, filling me with unease. It was the kind of tension that made the hairs on my arms stand on end with fear. He was right. If he admitted he was responsible for our father’s death, what could I do about it now? It felt like walking straight into a trap.
I couldn’t be killed here. Eyes were watching. But that didn’t change the fact that I was wary.
What if this whole coffee shop was in on it, too?
Shit.
Brandon’s hysterical laughter pulled me out of my thoughts. When I looked at him, he mimed a gun with his finger, aiming it right at my head. I knew it was fake, but it still made my lungs tighten in fear. Then, still laughing, Brandon moved his fingers like he was really shooting at my head—and I flinched.
“Your face,” he said while still laughing. “Priceless.”
Meanwhile, my heart was pounding irregularly inside my chest.
“Sis, relax.” His voice seemed to fade into the background as my head spun. “I was just kidding. I hated that piece of shit, but I didn’t kill him. There’s nothing I would’ve gained from his death anyway.”
Brandon was back to smiling softly, then he took my frozen fingers across from him on the table.
“I know you’re scared. Dad’s death was mysterious. Even I have no idea what happened. But you’re safe, okay? And the Kamarovs are big shots in this country. Sketchy, but I approve of them.”
I raised a brow. I didn’t know what to think of him. Was he pretending or being genuine? I couldn’t tell. As clear as theemotions on his face were, he was still a complete mystery to me. I searched his benign eyes and then came to a conclusion.
Brandon didn’t know anything about Father’s death—and neither was he aware that the Kamarovs were a formidable presence in the mafia world.
I did have to admit, though, that he was a bit unhinged.
Blowing out a sigh of relief, I laughed. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just being a paranoid ass.”
