Page 105 of The Wrong Brother

His pale eyes linger on my stomach. My hands start shaking, and I hate that he can see it, so I ball them into fists. For all my bravado, all my arguments and stubbornness, I suddenly feel completely lost.

Rus notices. His expression shifts.

“Emma.”

I look away. The concern in his voice makes everything worse, tears tracking down my cheeks again. I wrench a wrist away from his light grip, angrily wiping at them. His hold on me eases slightly, a hand caressing down my lower back.

“Look at me.”

I force myself to meet his gaze. Something about the intensity there makes me flinch and look away, and it’s a mistake because of course, he notices that too.

His entire body goes rigid. “Why did you do that?”

I shake my head. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

The accusation hangs heavy between us, and I can’t deny it. But I can’t look at him either.

“Emma.” His voice drops lower. Ruslan Smirnov is back, demanding answers. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a moment, I consider lying. But I’m too exhausted, and the truth slips out before I can stop it.

“I’ve been pregnant before.”

I’ve never said it aloud—not to my sister, not to my parents. It was part of the reason I ran and then kept running. Rus’s hand falls away from my waist.

“What?” The word comes out rough. Months of shame crash over me all at once. The memories have never really gone away; I’ve just gotten better at avoiding them.

“It was a while ago. And…didn’t last very long.”

His expression darkens. I already know where this is going.

“Was it Andrei’s?”

I nod, unable to hide it anymore, not just from Ruslan but from myself and the rest of the world. I’m tired and freaked out, and I’ve so desperately been wanting tostart oversince fucking up in Miami that the truth just spills out of me now.

The room seems to cool by several degrees.

“Tell me.” The command is quiet, and I hate how much it affects me. I wrap my arms around myself.

“It happened right before he broke things off. Maybe it was one of the reasons why, I don’t know.” My voice sounds distant, detached. Like I’m talking about someone else. It’s reminiscent of every conversation I had in the small clinic Andrei’s assistant shepherded me to.

“I found out really early. I was terrified, but also a little excited, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think we wereready,but I didn’t think he’d?—”

I break off; the words sticking in my throat. The memory of how angry Andrei was and the way he shoved me away when I told him, like he wanted nothing to do with me, and started texting immediately, not bothering to ask if I was okay. Or if I even wanted it.

“He made the decision for both of us. He said it would ruin everything. His career, his future, his image.”

Rus looks like he’s preparing to commit murder, chest heaving slowly under the perfectly crisp beige t-shirt he’s wearing.

“He arranged everything,” I whisper. “The appointment. The paperwork. All of it.”

I stand perfectly still, not sure what comes next. My body is in reverse, back to Andrei’s penthouse all those months ago, aching with his bruising grip, trembling with anxiety. My breath feels seized in my chest, and Rus doesn’t move for several seconds.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. I can almost see the thoughts moving behind his pale eyes, each one darkening his expression further. When he finally speaks, his voice is dangerously quiet.

“I am going to kill him.”