Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 140

“In Ruslan’s case, his family has come ready-made,” Vadim butts in with a smile, helping himself to his second cigar. “Tell me, nephew: will you name the bastard boy your heir or do you actually plan on making one yourself?”

His tone rankles. It’s poisonous, the way he talks about them. Bastard boy. I don’t like that one fucking bit. Nor do I like the subtle irritation dancing beneath his words, the suggestion that his birthright is being snatched away from him once again.

But I can understand it, even if I despise it. I’ll forgive his resentment—well, not forgive, but I’ll turn a blind eye to it. It doesn’t matter in the end. Vadim might not like my choices, but he will not oppose his pahkan. He wouldn’t dare.

Family is everything. It is the one absolute rule that he has always followed no matter the circumstances.

“That is premature as well, Uncle Vadim,” I say icily.

“There’s no rush,” Fyodor agrees. “After all, Emma and Ruslan have time to make plenty of babies.”

Like the thought of Emma in a gown, images of her and me with a few children of our own pops into my head far too quickly. It makes me feel… infinite. Damn near invincible. This is the first time I’ve understood what Fyodor and Vadim meant when they used to talk about legacy.

Emma as my wife. The children we already have gathered around us. More of them yet to come bundle up in her arms, in mine.

The feeling that stirs up… I don’t know how to name it or what to do with it.

But God knows it’s doing something to me.

Perhaps that’s why I decide to drop the bomb on them now. “The first one is already on the way.”

Vadim’s head snaps towards me. Fyodor’s mouth pops open. “The woman is pregnant?” my uncle asks, stunned.

I nod, but I’m focused more on my father. I thought he was already as upbeat as I’ve seen him in years. This, though… I’ve never seen him look like this. It’s unsettling, mostly because it reminds me of a time when he smiled often. Those smiles were usually reserved for my mother.

“An heir…” Vadim breathes. He still looks shell-shocked. “Are you sure?”

“She’s just completed her first trimester.”

“This is… This is… My God.”

“Have I turned you speechless, uncle? I didn’t think it was possible.”

He clears his throat, grabs his glass, and stands up. “A toast,” he says gruffly. “To the future heir of the Oryolov Bratva.”

Everyone cheers to my unborn child. There’s this strange, burgeoning feeling in my chest that I can’t quite name. Satisfaction? Joy? Pride?

When Vadim settles back into his seat, I address the whole table. “For now, I want Emma’s pregnancy kept under wraps. It’s a dangerous time for the Oryolov Bratva and I need to make sure she and the children are removed from it all.”

A murmur of agreement rises from the table. I sit back, feeling more confident than I have in a while.

I have a plan.

But most importantly, I have a family.

Now, the one thing I have left to do is to figure out a way to keep it.

31

RUSLAN

Keeping my family begins here. At the offices of The Brooklyn Gazette.

For starters, that name’s got to go. It stinks of shoddy reporting and lowbrow paparazzi. Considering Remmy Jefferson has a tiny cubicle down the hall, that about confirms it.

This building is gonna need a fucking makeover, too.

I don’t plan on coming here often, but when I do, I want somewhere to sit that doesn’t erupt with cockroaches the moment my ass touches the chair.

There’s a tentative knock on my door and then the portly assistant whose name I’ve already forgotten pokes her head inside.

“Sir? He’s here. Should I send him in?”

I smile. It’s a day for genuine grins. Things are happening now that should’ve happened a long, long time ago. “Please.”

She holds the door open and Remmy Jefferson walks in looking extremely confused. His confusion transforms to shock when he sees me sitting at the desk that, only last evening, belonged to someone else entirely.

His nostrils flare with panic when the door snaps closed behind him. He looks around the barren office like I might have goons here ready to beat him senseless.

No need. I can do that myself.

“W-where’s Leonard?”

I cock my legs and lean back in the rickety chair. “Leonard? I don’t know a Leonard. Unless… Oh! Of course. Silly me. Do you mean Leonard Mathers, publisher and editor-in-chief of The Brooklyn Gazette? That Leonard?”

He bares his teeth at me. “Yes. That Leonard. What have you done to him?”

I take the name plaque that sits obnoxiously at the front of the table. I observe it with interest for a moment before I toss it in the trash can. Leonard Mathers. “So many things to get rid of…” I muse under my breath.

But I’ll start with the biggest piece of trash in front of me.

“I’ll call security,” Remmy blurts.

I laugh at that one. “And tell them what?”

“That you’ve abducted our publisher and… and done God knows what to him!” His fingers are trembling, as is his lip. His skin has lost what little color he had left. He looks like a walking ghost.

Soon, he’s going to be a real one.

“There’s no reason to involve God,” I scold. “You can just ask me what I’ve done to him. Or you could ask the board, too. They know what happened to Leonard Mathers as well.”

Remmy’s eyes go wide as his tiny little brain finally starts putting all the pieces together. “T-there’s been talk the last few days. Talk of a… b-buyer for the paper…”

I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any paler. Remmy has taught me one thing today, at least.

I spread my arms wide to encompass this whole godforsaken building. “Welcome to my newspaper, Mr. Jefferson.”

He balks. “No. No! It’s not possible. It’s too fast. It’s—”

“Done,” I growl. “It’s already fucking done. Of course I had to pay a little extra to get Leonard out of my seat so fast but when you have money like I do, what’s an extra million or two between friends?”

He looks like he’s going to be sick.

“If you’re about to throw up, aim for the window,” I order. “This office smells bad enough as it is.”

“Y-you can’t do this.”

I shrug. “I already have. I am the official owner of The Brooklyn Gazette. That name’s going the same way Leonard went, by the way. As a matter of fact—everything is going.”

Remmy’s eyes are a fraction away from popping out of their sockets entirely. “Y-you did this to stop my article from circulating. My exposé on you. You did this to stop it.”

I shake my head calmly. “I did this to protect my family.”

“You did this to salvage your reputation.”

“My reputation was never in danger. Yours, on the other hand… Well, it’s precarious, to say the least.”

“You’re going to fire me?”