Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 134

RUSLAN

TAP, TAP, TAP…

Vadim has been tapping his way through this entire damn meeting and I’m about to explode on his ass if he doesn’t stop right fucking now.

“Is there something wrong with your finger, Uncle, or is there something you want to say?”

The tapping stops.

Thank fucking God.

Then he starts to talk instead and I immediately regret my choice to speak up.

“I am concerned, nephew.”

No shit. We’re all fucking concerned. Of course, some of us are more concerned than others. Fyodor, for example, looks like he’d rather be in his gardens, tending to his roses and his chrysanthemums. If there ever comes a day when I’m more interested in begonias than business, I’m just gonna have Kirill put a bullet in the back of my head and call it a day.

“There’s reason to be,” I agree. “My orders weren’t followed the night of the launch. And it’s not my men that did it.”

Vadim’s eyebrows rise. “Is there someone you’re accusing?”

I lean over my folded arms. “Let’s review the facts: Sergey is missing and Venera samples were tampered with the night of the launch. Both those facts suggest that this is an inside job.”

Vadim’s eyebrows peak higher. “Are you trying to accuse someone in this room?”

The moment he speaks, everyone in the boardroom stiffens—with the exception of my father, who still looks like he’s barely paying attention. My gaze flickers over the three other men present today.

Mikkeli Petrov—one of the chemists that helped Sergey develop Venera.

Josef Vinogradov—head of the security team that was in charge of protecting Venera samples and overseeing its circulation.

Andrei Belov—my logistics consigliere. The man responsible for recruiting an entire apparatus of dealers and delivery services to inject Venera into the lifeblood of the city.

All of them have something to lose by working against me, so it doesn’t make sense that they would fuck up an operation with massive personal payouts. Still, someone had a motive. It may not be obvious right now, but that’s only because my perspective is incomplete. I don’t have all the information.

But I can smell it.

Right there in front of me.

Just out of reach, but getting closer by the day.

“I’m not accusing anyone in this room. Yet. But I do think that we need to keep a close eye on Adrik Makarov.”

“Wasn’t Kirill supposed to be doing that?” My father meets my eyes for the first time during this meeting. “Speaking of your second, he’s not here. He’s never missed a meeting before.”

He’s right. Kirill should be here. And he better have a good fucking reason for—

Speak of the devil.

When the door swings open to reveal him, Kirill’s face is somber. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he walks in and heads straight for me. He doesn’t make apologies, either.

Which can only mean one thing—trouble.

He leans in, his lips close to my ear, and whispers, “Something came up.” I nod, giving him permission to continue. “It’s Emma.”

That’s all he needs to say. Before I know it, I’m out of my seat and flying towards the door.

“Ruslan?” Vadim’s voice is stunned, but I ignore it and storm out of the boardroom.

Kirill trails right behind me, shadowing my furious walk down the hall. I wait until we’ve turned the corner and there’s no chance of Vadim or anyone else in the boardroom being able to spy on us. Then I whirl around to face Kirill.

“What the fuck happened?”

He holds up his hands to pacify me. “First of all, she’s okay. But she did have a fainting spell.”

Kirill’s reassurance ought to calm me down, but as it turns out, it doesn’t do shit. I need to see her myself. “She fainted?”

“Yes. I had the doctor come to give her a check-up when she came to.”

“And?”

“Her blood pressure is high. There is a risk—to both her and the child.”

An angry growl bursts through my clenched teeth. I need to fucking do something. I need to break shit. I need to use my fists. I need to do some real damage. Every time I think I’m in control, something happens—almost always involving that frustrating little kiska—that reminds me it’s all just an illusion.

I can’t even fucking yell about it because, other than Kirill, no one knows that Emma’s pregnant. I have no doubt Fyodor and Vadim will be pleased, albeit for very different reasons, but it’s not information I’m inclined to share just yet.

It’s all too much right now and I don’t want any of my uncle’s unsolicited advice or my father’s long-winded speeches about the importance of family.

What I need right now is to make sure Emma is alright.

But considering the way I left things…

“Fuck!” I snarl as I resume moving down the corridor towards my office.

“Ruslan,” Kirill snaps, chasing after me, “wait!”

I don’t wait. I’m already pissed off that Kirill was the one to handle this situation. I should have been there. I should have been the one to call the doctor.

Maybe what I’m most pissed off about is the sneaking suspicion that, quite apart from being the solution, I may have been the fucking problem.

To make my black mood even blacker, I catch Melissa’s eager face when she jumps to her feet the moment she sees me. “Oh, hello, Mr. Rus—”

“Oryolov,” I snarl. “It’s Mr. Oryolov.”

“Right.” She giggles like the insipid dolt that she is. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“Read the fucking room, Melissa.”

I stalk into my office and slam the door, forgetting momentarily that Kirill is right behind me. “Oh, you ass—!” he exclaims as the door narrowly misses taking out his nose.

But his reflexes kick in just in time and he’s able to pound the door back. “Brother,” he scowls as he follows me in, “you have got to calm down.”

“Calm down?” I spit, pacing furiously. How can I calm down when she’s at risk? But that’s not what I say. What I say is, “How can I calm down when the baby’s at risk?”

Kirill’s eyes narrow. He plants himself right in front of me, breaking my frantic pacing. “Ruslan.” His voice is heavy with accusation. “If you don’t slow down for a goddamn minute and listen to me, you’re gonna lose your heir. In fact, you might just lose them both.”

I force my heart rate down as I focus on Kirill. He looks just as angry as I feel right now.

“Dr. Owens gave her a full exam. Her blood pressure has spiked in the few weeks since her last check-up. Which means it’s not a condition that requires treatments or drugs. It’s stress.”

My fault.

My fucking fault.

“I get that you’re pissed at her. I know you feel betrayed. But right now, she’s carrying your baby. She doesn’t need to be punished; she needs patience and care. She needs to be looked after.”

As much as I hate getting a damn lecture from my second-in-command, I know I have to hear this. I know he’s right.

“It’s stress?” I ask tentatively.