Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 121

“‘Ironic’ is not the word I would use.”

“Oh, come now, my friend. You can be happy for me. It’s not every day you stumble across a windfall like this.”

Unless, of course, you’ve worked to steal someone else’s.

“Word of advice, friend,” I growl, leaning over my desk to fix him with a furious stare. “Watch your back. Success breeds envy and envy breeds action. You should know that better than anyone.”

He blinks at me innocently. “Such wise words. I’ll be glad to share some of my wisdom with you once I’ve launched Sopernik successfully.” He gets to his feet and throws me a casual wink. “And say hello to Emma for me, will you? Tell her I think about our dance often.”

He walks out while I imagine the day I can finally do away with the pretense…

And slaughter the mudak once and for all.

17

EMMA

“A trampoline!” Reagan squeals.

She takes off at a run and Josh and Caroline zoom off behind her. I throw Kirill a side glance. “Who says money can’t buy love, huh?”

Kirill chuckles. “That’s not what he’s doing.”

“Oh, no? Yesterday, it was a bounce castle on the lawn. This morning, it was a zipline through the trees. Now, this? If he’s not trying to buy their love, then he’s trying to overcompensate.”

“For what?”

“For not being around.”

“They’re not his kids. He doesn’t have to be around.”

Kirill is right. But it still pisses me off. I skewer him with a glare, then turn and start stomping back towards the house.

I hear his footsteps come up behind me. “Whoa, Emma. Hold up. I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”

I clench my teeth, but I let him draw me to a stop. “It’s accurate, though. He isn’t their father. They shouldn’t be caught in the middle of all this misery.”

Kirill exhales and looks over at the kids. They’re all trying to do back flips on the huge trampoline and laughing hysterically, even Josh. “Yeah, they look utterly miserable.”

“Whatever. You’re his man. Of course you’re gonna see his side and only his side.”

“That’s not fair. He’s my priority, sure. But that doesn’t mean you and I can’t be friends.”

I frown. “Is this you overcompensating for the fact that I’m not allowed to talk to my only friend?”

“We just want to be safe here, Emma.” Kirill rubs his chin and sighs. I’m sure he’s as sick of giving this explanation as I am of hearing it. “The more information Phoebe has about you, the more of a target she becomes.”

“Right. Spare me the lecture. Bottom line is, I’m completely isolated with no one to talk to.”

“You can talk to me.”

“So you can go give Ruslan a full report? C’mon. I’m not stupid, Kirill.”

“You two belong together,” he mumbles. “You’re as paranoid as he is.”

“Does he think I’m up to no good?” I demand. “Spying for someone else now, I suppose. Probably the government. Or Mossad. Maybe some rival Bratva don?”

“Pahkan.”

“Whatever.”

He smirks. “I’m not reporting on you to Ruslan.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.” I immediately regret my snark. I can’t exactly afford to alienate Kirill. Not when I have so few people to talk to here. Not when he’s the one helping me get custody of the kids. “I’m sorry… I’m being a bitch. It’s the hormones.”

“Yeah, you better milk that excuse while you can.”

I can’t quite suppress my smile. “Do you know what’s going on with Ben, by the way?”

The laughter vanishes from Kirill’s face. He’s all fun and games at first glance, but beneath that is a stone-cold killer who doesn’t like Ben any more than the rest of us do. “He’s lying low for the moment. I don’t think he understands why or how he’s being snowballed. All the momentum he gained with that CNN interview fizzled out overnight.”

Take that, you bastard.

“He’s hit the bottle pretty hard,” he adds.

“Predictable,” I snort. It must be nice to have a coping mechanism available for the price of a six-pack at the corner store.

“But,” adds Kirill, “your parents are another story entirely.”

My eyes snap to his. “My parents?”

“Your old phone has a ton of messages and missed calls from a Barrett Carson and a Beatrice Carson. I’m an espionage genius, so I put two and two together.”

I groan. “Oh, God. I need to deal with that.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Just convince them that you have the situation under control. Don’t mention anything about Ruslan or Remmy or… anything else.”

“Duh. Even if there wasn’t a legitimate reason, I’d still be hiding shit from my parents.”

He leans against a wall and folds his arms as he regards me with a sympathetic look. “So I take it you’re not particularly close with them?”

“Sienna was my family. Barrett and Beatrice were basically just our rich patrons. And when they didn’t get what they wanted from us, they cut us off. Financially, that is. They thought it would have a much bigger impact than it did.”

“Losing their money didn’t scare you?”

“It did,” I say with a shrug. “For about five minutes. But we both had jobs and an actual work ethic. Neither one of us was scared to make our own way. And we had each other. That helped.”

His eyes never leave my face. “It must be hard losing a sibling.”

“It’s the hardest.” The way he asks the question makes me curious. “Have you lost a sibling?”

“No, but Ruslan has. I saw how hard that was for him.”

“You were there for that, huh?” He shrugs and looks away. Something tells me he regrets bringing it up in the first place. “Did you know Leonid?”

“Not very well. Ruslan and I only really became friends after… it happened.”

I’m dying to ask more, to know more. But he’s shutting down on me already. “Kirill—”

“You should give your parents a call. We don’t need them stirring the pot,” he says abruptly.

I scowl. “Seriously? I can’t talk to Phoebe, but this is allowed?”

He smiles like it’s just another day. “This is work. Damage control.”

“You’re really annoying, y’know that?” I stick my tongue out at him.

“Oh, real mature.”

“It’s the hormones,” I say prettily.

Laughing, he heads off towards the right and I go into the main living room to get the dreaded phone call done with it.

“Hi, Mom,” I greet without enthusiasm when she picks up.

“Emma? Emma?”

Obviously, yes! Who else calls her “Mom” anymore?

“Yeah, it’s me,” I say, weary already. “It’s Emma.”

“Emma Lorraine Carson. For God’s sake! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Not exactly what I was expecting. But also, not not what I was expecting, either.

“You want the short list or the long one?”

“Don’t make jokes. Not now!”

“When then?”