Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 124

The man on the other end of the gym however… hot damn.

He’s wearing a pair of black nylon shorts and nothing else. He’s got boxing gloves on and he’s railing hard on a punching bag suspended from the ceiling by a thick metal chain. With every powerful punch, the chain groans, the bag swings and his back muscles ripple with power.

I wouldn’t mind being that punching bag if it means getting pounded like that.

I cringe at myself. Seriously. These hormones are out of control. It’s one thing to be ogling him in my dreams; it’s an entirely different thing to be objectifying him in real life.

I never thought I’d actually prefer the morning sickness phase. No shame in that game. This phase however… It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch. I tried scratching it myself last night after I woke up from that very vivid dream but, even after I’d gotten off, I was left feeling hollow and dissatisfied.

The solution is obvious—I need an actual penis. Preferably one that is attached to a hot-blooded man. This hot-blooded man, to be specific. But since that isn’t gonna be happening anytime soon, I’m gonna have to make do with a silicone substitute if I can get my hands on one.

Hm, how inappropriate would it be to put that on my food cravings list for Kirill?

Yeah. Very.

I’ll have to figure out a way to order some special toys for myself without either Kirill or Ruslan finding out. Until then, I’ll just have to satisfy myself with the eye candy on display right now.

“Whatcha looking at?”

I clap my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream as I whirl around to find Kirill at my side.

He smirks. “Enjoying the view, are we?”

I glower at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just… I wasn’t looking at… I just came to… Shut up.”

He pretends to back out of the room slowly. “Is there something I can help you with or do you wanna just ogle Ruslan some more?”

“I was not. And also—shh!” His face is going red from the need to laugh. “Seriously, Kirill. Stop drawing attention. He’s gonna turn around and—oh, fuck, he’s coming—will you stop giggling?”

Ruslan stalks towards us, eyes narrowing. There are only two looks he gives me these days: suspicion and irritation. Today’s glare is a fun little blend of the two. I don’t mind, though—I’m a little distracted by the eight-pack abs staring me in the face.

“He doesn’t own a shirt?” I say under my breath.

“Kirill. Find out what she wants.” Ruslan’s whip-sharp voice carries across the gym.

Kirill turns to me. “I assume you’re here for a reason. Unless that reason is to be bent over the bench press?”

“Asshole,” I mutter. “I’m just checking to see if King Douche Bag is interested in coming to my doctor’s appointment this evening.”

“I will go and see.” Kirill saunters off, leaving me standing at the doorway with the vast no-man’s-land of gym equipment between us.

It’s a sad state of affairs when you need a go-between to speak to your baby daddy. From here, I can’t decipher Ruslan’s expression. The slight furrow between his brows persists through his entire conversation with Kirill. It lasts longer than I expect to. At one point, I wonder if they’re arguing, but when Kirill walks back over to me, he seems as good-natured as ever.

“He’ll be there.”

“Oh. Okay.” I sneak a glance past Kirill’s shoulder. Ruslan has moved on to the bench press and suddenly, Kirill’s cheeky suggestion from earlier doesn’t sound quite so bad.

Escape, girl, begs my inner wise woman’s voice. Get your horny ass away from the potential scene of the crime.

But those muscles hold me captive for a moment. He’s absolutely manhandling that barbell. Maybe I should offer myself up instead…?

Abort. Flee. Run for your life.

Kirill passes me a towel from a nearby shelf. “Here you go.”

“What is this for?” I ask as I take it.

“For the drool running down the side of your mouth.”

I fling the towel at his face and get the hell out of the gym before I embarrass myself further. I need to get on that special order of mine.

And fast.

“Is this your first?”

I blink up at the doctor. I haven’t been paying a whole lot of attention to this appointment so far. Mostly because of the surly shadow in the far corner of the room. I’m not sure why he decided to be here at all, because he’s spent most of the appointment on his phone. Apart from greeting the doctor with a curt nod, he hasn’t looked up once.

Never thought I’d be jealous of a screen.

“Sorry?”

When Dr. Owens smiles, his warm brown eyes wrinkle at the edges. He looks like he really means that smile.

“I asked if this is your first baby.”

“Yes. I mean, uh, no.” Dr. Owens frowns in Ruslan’s direction as though my distraction is his fault. Which it is, so the good doctor is right on the money there. “Well, technically, it’s my first baby. But I’ve got three other kids that I inherited from my sister.”

“Wow. Full house then.”

I try to concentrate on the doctor and ignore the fact that Ruslan just accepted a call. Right in the middle of my appointment. He doesn’t even bother to leave the room—just moves further into the corner and turns his back on both of us.

“I have five girls myself.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, wow.”

“The youngest is seventeen. She’s leaving for Columbia next fall. Honestly, it’s making my wife and I wish we had more. You probably hear this a lot, but enjoy this time. It goes by fast.”

Smiling, I wonder how different my life would have been if Cedric Owens, MD, had been my father. He looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t care about your grade point average just as long as you were happy. Who’d brag about you just because you’re his kid, not because you’d done anything special. Who hates the idea of you leaving the nest, not because he’s losing control, but simply because he’ll miss you.

I wouldn’t know anything about a man like that.

He turns back to the monitor. “Well, back to business. It looks like everything is progressing beautifully. The baby is strong and healthy.”

My gaze flickers to Ruslan, wondering if he heard that. He’s still looking down at his phone.

“Emma, dear.” Dr. Owens pulls me back with a gentle pat on my arm. “Look at the screen. There’s your baby.”

I try to breathe through my budding tears. Half of them are for the beautiful little blob on the screen right now. The other half is for the man sitting as far away from me as he possibly can. At least he’s actually looking at the screen now.

“The baby’s healthy?” Ruslan asks Dr. Owens in a bored rumble.

“Yes. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Good. Then I’m no longer needed here.” I sit up a little straighter. He’s my ride—where the hell does he think he’s going? Ruslan throws me only a cursory glance. “Once you finish up the appointment, Boris will be waiting outside to drive you back to the estate.”

He’s not even gonna drive me back?