Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 142

“Listen closely, you useless little cockroach. You come within two states of Emma or those children ever again and I will kill you with my bare hands. I’ll do it in public, too, in broad daylight just to prove that I can. You hear me?”

He nods fast. There’s hope in his agreement. The desperate need to believe that, even though he might have lost everything else, he gets to keep his life.

“Good. Now, get out of my fucking sight.”

He scrambles onto his hands and knees and crawls to the door. He uses the handle to pull himself back up and then he rushes out without a backward glance.

Before the door closes on him, Kirill slips in. “You let him live?” he exclaims incredulously as he turns to listen to the sound of Remmy fleeing.

“After what he did to Emma?” I bare my teeth. “No fucking way. I’m just giving him a head start. Send a team after him tomorrow.”

Kirill gives me a satisfied nod. “‘After what he did to Emma,’ huh? That’s the cardinal sin? You know, that’s something she might like to hear.”

I take a deep breath. “After everything I said to her, after how I’ve treated her, it will take a lot more than that to fix things between us.” I crack my knuckles and sigh. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Kirill smiles with palpable relief. “Fucking finally.”

32

EMMA

The kids have just gone down to the gardens with Amelia when I notice the message on my lockscreen.

RUSLAN: Be outside in 5 minutes.

It was sent three minutes ago. Which means I have two minutes to get my ass outside.

Except why? His message is just as informative as he has been lately and it’s making me nervous. Not just because this is the first time in weeks that he’s deigned to text me at all; it’s also the first contact between us since I word-vomited my confession all over him yesterday. Since then—radio silence.

Until this ominous five-word text.

Is he working off some sort of guidebook I’m not aware of? Intrigue and suspense building: how to bring the drama. Chapter 5 in A Pahkan’s Guide to Intimidation and World Domination.

His Range Rover is zooming up the drive as I walk down the steps. He whips a full turn and stops just in front of me, inch-perfect. He leans over and pushes the door open.

I get in hoping he’ll fill me in, but no explanation seems forthcoming as he immediately shifts back into drive and we take off again. I figure he’ll explain when he’s ready. But after ten minutes, he’s as silent as the night. And he looks about as friendly.

“Ruslan?” His eyes flicker in my direction and then back to the road. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I’m halfway between a scared gulp and an annoyed scowl. This is all happening in a week where I’m supposed to be especially mindful of my blood pressure. But I can feel the stress sweats coming on. It always starts at the palms.

He turns the corner and I frown. This is my neighborhood. Or at least, it used to be.

“Are you taking me back to the apartment?”

“Yes.”

Okay, breathe. Breathe. Remember to stay calm for the baby. Think about your freaking blood pressure! Of course, all that does is make me sweat more. Somehow, I don’t think additional sweat will help.

I glance towards Ruslan, who remains uninterested in looking at me. Is it because he’s done? He didn’t buy my explanation and now, he just wants to get rid of me? He’s gonna drop me off with Ben and let him finish me off? I’m gonna lose custody of my kids anyway?

What is happening?

Blood pressure!

It’s a really fucked-up version of He loves me, he loves me not.

I’m spiraling but I have no idea how to turn my mind off or my heartbeat down. “Ruslan,” I say, swallowing hard, “you’re making a huge mistake.”

“No, I’m not,” he replies, completely stone-cold. “I’m fixing one.”

Maybe I could open the door and kind of cannonball my way out of this car? I glance towards the speedometer. He’s doing a casual eighty. Yeah, that’s definitely gonna kill me.

What if I just leap out and run the moment he stops driving? I bite my bottom lip, knowing full well that that would end terribly. I’ve never been the fastest runner. I joined track because Sienna joined track. After a couple of training sessions, the coach told me that I should consider going out for theater instead.

By the time he parks outside my Hell’s Kitchen apartment, I’m no longer surprised. I’m strangely resigned. Maybe it’s time to accept my fate. I’m not meant to be the guardian of those kids. It seems the universe is unequivocally opposed to it.

“Come on,” Ruslan orders once we’re parked.

I don’t even try to run. I just slink after him into the building and up to the fourth floor. I can hear Ben puttering around in there. My skin crawls at the thought of seeing him again.

Ruslan is about to knock when I stop him with a hand to his arm. “Wait!” He glances at me impassively. “What about the kids?”

He frowns. “The kids are fine.”

“You’ll look after them?”

His frown gets the tiniest bit deeper. “Of course I will. You don’t ever have to worry about them again.”

That’s good to know. I suppose there’s nothing left to do but to worry about myself now. I swallow my tears as Ruslan knocks on the door.

Ben’s footsteps thump closer. He rips the door open wide before realizing who’s standing there waiting for him. When he does, his jaw flops wide open.

“What the fuck?”

Yeah. My thoughts exactly.

Then Ruslan slams his forehead right into Ben’s face, sending him keeling backwards. If the coffee table had still been standing, he would have broken through the glass the same way I had.

I’m so shocked that not even a gasp escapes my lips. I just stand there, frozen to the threshold as Ben splutters up blood and half-formed expletives from where he lands.

Ruslan grips my wrist and pulls me into the apartment. The door slams shut behind us and he turns back to Ben, who’s still lying in a daze in the middle of the stained carpet. There’s a pungent stink that clings to the walls. I’m not surprised: Ben was never much of a housekeeper, even back in the ancient days when he was a half-decent father.

“What kind of person, what kind of man, sells out the woman who’s been taking care of his children?” Ruslan growls as he circles Ben like a predator about to strike.

My jaw is hanging open.

Did I hear what I think I just heard?

“You saw how hard she worked for you and those kids. You saw how well she looked after them. And instead of being grateful, you decided to take fucking advantage. You joined forces with that lowlife piece of shit who masquerades as a reporter and you decided to put yourself first. Did you even think for a second about your children?”

Ben’s still gawking up at Ruslan with blood pouring out of both nostrils. He looks like what he is: a man who’s just realized far, far too late that he overplayed his hand and lost.

“No. No, of course you didn’t think about your children. You didn’t think about Josh when you were threatening the boy with violence, making him lie and steal for you. Why would you think of any of them now?”

Ben’s eyes veer to me. “E-Emma—”

Ruslan lunges between us. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare fucking look at her. Not after how you betrayed her.”

I’m shivering from the weight of all this unexpected emotion. From the realization of what’s actually happening, too.

Ruslan didn’t bring me here to abandon me to Ben.

He brought me here for justice.

Then, while my brain is still reeling, Ruslan pulls out a stack of clean white papers and throws them onto the carpet next to Ben. “Try not to get blood on those when you sign them.”