70

EMMA

The morning sickness has officially hit with a vengeance.

And boy, is it frigging awful. I can’t even keep down Nutella on toast. You know shit’s getting real when your system rejects gooey chocolate on warm, toasted bread.

So I’ve been sprawled miserably on the sofa with a hot pack over my forehead, trying to get Rae to tell me why she’s been allergic to me all morning.

“Can I get a hug at least?” I ask as she scampers past.

“No!” she screams before running into her bedroom. A second later, I hear the door slam.

I glance at Josh. “What’s up with her today?”

Josh gives me a noncommittal shrug that makes me think there’s definitely something going on there.

“She’s just scared, Aunt Em,” Caroline offers.

“Scared?” I put the hot pack aside and sit up. “Scared about what?”

Now, Caroline looks like she’s caught Reagan’s allergy to me. She backs away slowly, her eyes skidding from one side to the other. “Um… I dunno…”

Then she leapfrogs over one of the footstools and follows Reagan to the room. I bite my lip. Maybe I should invest in therapy sooner rather than later.

“Josh, is there something going on I should know about?” Like his sisters, he’s not looking me in the eye. “Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

He nods.

“Is this about the kidnapping? Or are the girls missing Ben?”

Josh just shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

“Well, something’s up. I feel like I have a bad case of the cooties.”

He smiles but it’s a half-hearted one. “I’ll go talk to them.”

He slips away and I’m left in the empty vastness of the living room. I remember being enamored by the views when I first saw them. But as it turns out, even the most beautiful view loses its appeal when you know you can’t be a part of it.

Maybe what’s going on with the kids is a simple case of boredom. They’ve been cooped up indoors for too long. They need grass and fresh air and the sound of other people.

I pick up my new phone. It feels foreign in my hand. Too big, too heavy, too sleek, and too silver. I miss my old phone. The one with the cracked screen and the fuzzy display.

EMMA: Hey. Is it possible to get a child therapist to come in a few days a week? I think it might help the kids to talk to someone.

KIRILL: We can discuss it.

Hmm. I had expected a quick and easy yes on that one. Unless he’s thinking of running it by Ruslan first…

Which is super annoying.

EMMA: When?

KIRILL: When you’re settled in at the estate.

EMMA: Excuse me. What estate?

KIRILL: I’ll fill you in on the details when I see you. I’ll be there in ten.

EMMA: I’d rather you tell me now. We’re leaving the penthouse?

He doesn’t respond. I notice him typing but then the three dots disappear and he goes offline.

EMMA: Kirill.

EMMA: Kirill???

Okay. This day is pissing me off. Everything feels just a little bit off-kilter. Like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Maybe it’s just the morning sickness. Speaking of…

Urgh.

I race to the nearest bathroom and puke up the glass of lemonade I spent the last half an hour gingerly sipping. So much for tricking my body into accepting some calories. When I come back outside, Josh is standing in the living room with the girls. Caroline is on the divan and Reagan is hiding behind her brother.

I smile. “Uh-oh. This looks serious.”

Not one kid returns the smile.

I lower myself down to the sofa and face all three with the same somberness they’re directing at me. “Starting to get nervous here, guys.”

“Aunt Emma, Reagan has something she wants to tell you,” Josh explains, taking Reagan’s hand and pulling her forward.

“But you have to promise not to get angry with her,” Caroline chimes in.

My eyes go wide and I look right at Reagan, who actually flinches back. “Honey, I could never be angry with you. You’re one of my two favorite nieces.”

That one usually gets a smile. Today—nothing.

“Whoa. Tough crowd.” I take a deep breath and hold my hand up, palm facing Reagan. “I solemnly swear that I will not get mad at Reagan for whatever it is she’s done.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Reagan says earnestly. “I said something bad.”

I try not to smile too hard. “Oh, sweetheart, did you say a bad word? Because I’ll tell you right now, it’s okay. We all slip sometimes. Just don’t do it again.”

Her frightened stance doesn’t change. “I didn’t say a bad word. I… I told a secret.”

I’m not overly concerned. I mean, we’ve been cooped up in here for days. The only person they’ve really hung out with lately is Kirill and he already knows my secret.

“What secret, Rae?”

Beep, beep, beep.

“Oh, hold on—that’ll be Kirill. Josh, honey, can you let him up?” I turn my attention back on Reagan. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Her chubby little cheeks sag under the weight of her remorse. “I told Ruslan about the baby in your belly.”

For a second, I don’t react. Then I laugh. “How can you have told Ruslan? You haven’t seen him in days.”

Caroline shakes her head. “He came over last night.”

I frown, my eyes swiveling towards Josh. “He did, Aunt Em. You were in the bathroom puking.”

Slowly, it starts to sink in. Reagan told Ruslan that I had a baby in my belly. While I was throwing up in the bathroom.

Last night.

Oh, God.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

“I’m really sorry, Auntie Em.” Reagan’s eyes are watery with tears and I realize that my reaction is not helping.

“I-it’s okay, baby,” I insist, even though I’m dying inside. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you mad at me?”

How can I be mad at a five-year-old? Who expects a five-year-old to keep that kind of secret? Or any kind of secret? I should’ve known this was coming sooner or later. I just wish it hadn’t been quite this soon.

“Of course not. Not mad. Not mad at all.” My voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. I need to calm the fuck down. “Why don’t you guys head into the kitchen? Lunch is on the counter.”

They scurry along and I start pacing frantically.

Ruslan knows. Why hasn’t he confronted me about it? Why hasn’t he reacted? Is he going to punish me? Trap me? Give me the silent treatment until the baby pops out?

I stop short when the elevator doors open and Kirill walks in. So that’s why the sudden change of location.

Be cool, Emma. Be cool.

“Hey.”

God, I sound stiff.

Kirill raises his eyebrows. “Where are the kids?”

“Just having lunch. The smell of meat makes me want to puke so I’m just staying out of the kitchen ‘til they’re done.”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you to start packing. The car will be here at nine tomorrow morning to take you to the Oryolov Estate.”

I give him a polite nod. “And why are we being moved there?”

His expression is ridiculously convincing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was all run-of-the-mill stuff happening here. Standard protocol for victims of kidnappings, extortion attempts, and the like. “The kids will have free run of the place. There’s huge gardens and a pool and—”

“This is a trap!”

So much for being cool.

Kirill startles. “Um…”

“He knows. That’s why he’s moving us.”

He sighs. “Five-year-olds, I assume?”

“You weren’t gonna tell me. You were just gonna give me a bunch of bullshit excuses for why we were moving.”

He shrugs, not even bothering to deny it. “I figured if Reagan hadn’t told you, then—”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends, Emma. But I still have a job to do. Part of that job involves keeping you safe. And this move will accomplish that.”

“Bullshit. He’s never gonna let me out of that place. I’ll be a prisoner for life.”

“Emma—”

“No! Don’t you ‘Emma’ me. I should have known better than to trust you.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is low and gentle. “I’m afraid this is nonnegotiable.”

I scowl at him helplessly. “He asked me for a month; I gave him a month. That’s all I’m prepared to give.”

“That’s for you and Ruslan to decide together.”

I snort incredulously. “Right. Because Ruslan’s totally the kind of guy who believes in mutual decisions and compromise.”

“I know this is hard—”

“I need to get the kids out of here.”

“You need to keep the kids safe,” he reminds me. “And staying with Ruslan is the easiest way to ensure their safety. You know that. I know you know that.”

I turn away from him with a sniffle. It doesn’t really matter what I know.

The decision has already been made for me.