Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 112

But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was just pretending.

I finally know how that feels.

9

EMMA

I wake up at nine the next morning. Sunlight is streaming in through the open windows.

I fell asleep on the couch, which was intentional on my part. I did not want to go back into the master bedroom. I wasn’t prepared to face the memories that waited for me there.

Not yet, anyway.

I check my phone to find a text waiting for me.

PHOEBE: Please tell me you and the kids are okay?

EMMA: We’re okay. Not at the motel anymore. I’ll explain when I process everything.

I check in on the kids, who are still fast asleep in the guest room. Yesterday was probably more chaos than their little bodies could take. I’m heading into the kitchen when I hear the elevator doors ping open.

How pathetic is it that my very first thought is, Ruslan? And it’s not like that thought is combined with dread or nerves or nausea. Honestly, I’d welcome any of the three. It’s preferable to feeling like the idiot who can’t help pining after a man who clearly doesn’t give a shit about her.

“Morning,” Kirill says breezily as he exits the elevator with two massive bags thrown over each shoulder. “You didn’t change the passcode.”

I shrug. “Didn’t think it was necessary.” And I was bogged down deep in depression last night. “What’s in the bags?”

“Groceries.”

I follow him into the kitchen. “The kitchen’s already fully stocked.”

He huffs as he drops the bags down on the sleek marble center island. “But those girls have a serious sweet tooth and Uncle Kiki is gonna pretend to be Willy Wonka for today. I have sugar bomb cereal for Rae, whipped cream by the boatload for Caro, PB&J supplies for PB&Josh… you get the picture.”

He starts pulling items out of the bag. I do one double-take after another when I see all of our favorite treats go sprawling across the countertop.

“How did you know what to get?”

He gives me a quick, you-know-how glance. “Ruslan gave me a list.”

Right. Of course he did.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You guys need to eat. And anyway—orders.”

I nod glumly. “Does that get old? Always having to take his orders?”

Kirill smiles cryptically. “I know what I signed up for, Emma.” Is that meant to be a dig at me? “By the way, we’re gonna have the Modani crew coming up here around noon. Just giving you a heads up.”

I blink. “Sorry, am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Modani—the furniture company…?”

“My furniture company is IKEA.”

He smirks. “This apartment is a little bare-bones and Ruslan wanted you guys to be comfortable. So they’re gonna set up two rooms for the kids so that Josh doesn’t have to bunk with his sisters tonight. One of their interior designers will be coming, too, to oversee stuff. Her name’s Elise. You can tell her whatever you want done to the master bedroom.”

I grab the box of Oreos and tear into them. “I’m not gonna do that, Kirill. I’m not even sure I should be sleeping in the master bedroom. I’m fine on the couch, honestly.”

“Don’t be silly. If you don’t want the master bedroom, there are three more guest rooms to choose from. Just pick the furniture you like from the catalog Elise brings and they’ll deliver by tomorrow at the latest.”

I stuff an Oreo into my mouth and reach for another before I’m even done with the first.

“You alright there, pal?” Kirill asks.

He keeps looking at me funny. He probably smells the crazy on me.

“Just a little overwhelmed. I’m gonna go lie down.” I take the box of Oreos with me and settle on the couch, completely prepared to be a hermit for the rest of the day. Of course, that plan is shot to hell when the kids wake up.

But it’s a good distraction. They scamper around the penthouse, oohing and ahhing at every room in the place. Josh is the only one who shows a modicum of restraint. But that’s probably only because he’s still traumatized from yesterday. He shrugs off all my attempts to ask how he’s feeling.

The Modani crew shows up right when Kirill said they would. That takes up most of the day. And when they leave, we receive another delivery that turns out to be toys for each kid. Model trains and Legos for Josh. Dolls and tea party sets for Caroline and Reagan. Books for everyone. It’s over the top and then some, but seeing each kid smile forces me to bite my tongue.

I don’t have the right to deprive them of this. Maybe it’ll make things harder when we’re on our own. But I’d rather allow them a taste of this life rather than nothing at all.

I spend the evening getting dinner ready and fielding questions from the kids.

Where’s Ruslan?

Why didn’t he come to see us today?

Will he come see us tomorrow?

They’re all Ruslan-centric questions and it makes me second-guess my decision to stay here all over again.

In short, I’m a mess. Not even a hot mess. Just a stinky, slovenly, messy mess.

By the time I get the kids to bed, I’ve worked myself into quite the state. So I curl up in the corner of one of the guest bedrooms with a blanket over my shoulders and a churning in my gut and call Phoebe.

“Where are you?” Phoebe breathes the moment she picks up.

“Believe it or not, still in New York.”

“What?” she yelps.

I’m not expecting that reaction. She sounds unreasonably panicked by that little tidbit. It has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

“Y-yeah. After what happened with Josh yesterday, Ruslan insisted we stay in New York under his protection.”

Silence.

“Pheebs? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Um… I guess I was just hoping you’d be far away by now.”

Yeah, okay. Something’s definitely wrong. Phoebe would never hope that unless she had a good freaking reason to.

“Why?”

“Em—”

“Please, Phoebe. I’ve had a rough day and I think there’s a few more of those on the horizon. So just tell me.”

She clears her throat. “It’s Ben.” My heart plummets. “He filed a missing person’s report for all four of you.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.