Page 122 of Dark Promise (Suvorov Bratva 1)

My arms slack a bit. “What are you talking about?”

He closes the distance between us in a few powerful strides. He squares his shoulders, furious heat oozing from his flexing muscles as he towers over me. His nostrils flare. His pupils expand to inhale every inch of me and observe every single one of my movements. A vein twitches in his left temple, the same spot where disappointment and irritation usually lurk.

Not again, I think.Please not this again.

I try to hold my ground. I try to tighten my arms over my chest and stand as tall as I possibly can. That’s hard to do when I’m not wearing heels. I could stand on my toes, but that feels too playful, too reminiscent of our time spent on the river.

That time was magical.

But this? It’s a nightmare waiting to happen.

He doesn’t back down. He doesn’t soften his features. His eyes burn as hard as they had when we first met.

And it’s then I remember exactly who I married. Not a knight in shining armor. Not the man of my dreams.

A monster.

A Pakhan.

And a powerful one.

“Exactly how long did you plan on keeping your little secret, Liya?” he asks in a low voice.

I’m not fooled by the volume at all. Animosity lurks in those words. Enough to tear me apart.

My confused frown makes him scoff.

“Jonas and Zoya,” he says loudly. “How long were you planning on keeping that from me?”

My muscles slack almost instantaneously. I stagger toward the couch and slump into the cushions, an arctic breeze lashing my insides. From hot to cold in seconds—and all the anxiety that comes with such a shift in temperature. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I bow toward my knees and try to hide from his piercing stare.

Christ, what do I say to that?

And how did he find out?

Pavel takes a menacing step toward me. “Stand up.”

“I can’t.”

“Get up, Liya! Face me!”

I cringe at his irritated tone. It hurts as much as his glare. “I told you, Ican’t, Pavel. My legs won’t hold me. I’m too…”

I hiccup.

My hand flies to my mouth to hide the sob, but it’s too late. I’ve already shown my weakness. I can’t even play dumb at this point.

He’s caught me.

He grabs my upper arms and yanks me to my feet. I gasp as I cover my stomach with both hands, a surge of panic inspiring me to shield my baby. It happens so fast that I don’t realize I’m doing it.

And the look on his face tells me he doesn’t realize what he’s doing either.

But it doesn’t last long. Whatever regret or guilt he might have felt dissipates, and the Pakhan assumes his rightful position, standing tall while releasing my arms. He doesn’t give me any space. He keeps close, retaining the upper hand by keeping me trapped between him and the couch.

“How long?” he demands. “Answer me, Liya!”

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…”

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