My brother watched me with a serious expression. “You may think I got the short end of the stick between us growing up, but you’ve forgotten you were the one living in closets for years or being beat up by our mother and her clients.” I raised a brow. “Are we taking a trip down memory lane?” “T think it’s time, don’t you?” “No.” “I may be slightly out of touch with human emotion, but at least I understand it.” I glared at him. “I understand it just fine.” “Coming from the man who rationalizes unrequited love for the Mikhailov girl to her stealing from you.” Being accused of “love” made me feel . . . awkward, so I deflected. “Firstly, nothing here is unrequited.” If it was, I would make it requited. “Secondly, I’ve seen the Hallmark Channel. This isn’t how love works.” Kristian laughed. “I thought I might have to explain sex tips to my younger brother. Not love.” “Think I got the sex thing down, but thanks.” Staring into his tumbler glass, he swirled the vodka in his glass. “I loved Gianna for years before she ever even looked at me. Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.” “You’re really selling this to me,” I said drily. “I don’t have to sell it. You’ve already gone and fallen for Alexei Mikhailov’s daughter.” I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to me.” The silence was heavy. “You feel so guilty over that shit you can’t let yourself care for other people—because if you couldn’t protect your own brother, why should you deserve any other meaningful relationships? Well, you need to get the fuck over it.” Sometimes, I hated his unnatural insight. Other times, it made things easier for me because I never would have said that shit out loud. “T feel like I should be lying on a psychologist’s couch.” “You do have a pile of trauma-induced emotional issues on top of that if you want me to get into them.” I gave him a “fuck off” look.