Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 149

“In fact, we don’t need anything at all from you,” Beatrice adds. “Because this is not over, Emma. We’re going to get a new lawyer and we’re going to drag you into court as many times as it takes to get custody of those three child—”

“I’d stick to achievable goals.”

I whirl around to find Ruslan standing on the step behind me. His eyes are trained on my parents and his jaw is set in that firm square that I’ve learned from experience means business.

“Emma is not losing those children,” he continues as he advances toward us and takes up a position at my side. “Not now. Not ever. I will personally see to it that any petition you make to any court in this city is thrown out before it even reaches a judge. Those children are not a victory for you to claim.”

Barrett tries to interrupt but Ruslan just talks over him.

“They need security, love, and safety—and they have that with Emma. She has looked after them as though they’re her own for the past three and a half years. If you cared at all for your grandchildren, you’d see that they’re better off with her.” His voice crackles dangerously. “She is an amazing fucking mother and an amazing fucking person and she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. So if I ever see or hear you utter another bad word to her again, I will make it my personal mission to turn your lives into a living hell.” He looks right at Beatrice. “I understand that you’re a member of several society committees and charities in the city. I will see that you are removed from each and every one.” Then he turns to Barrett. “And as for you, I will not only see to it that you’re kicked out of all your clubs, I will make sure no businessman worth his salt entertains a deal with your firm ever again. You’ll be paupers. I swear it. You want to test me? Go right ahead. It’s your fucking funeral.”

I watch in amazement as both my parents are rendered speechless. But I know that Ruslan’s threat will work. No way are my parents going to risk their position in the Upper East Side’s social scene just to take custody of the kids they don’t even want in the first place.

It would defeat the whole purpose.

“I hope I’ve made myself clear. I don’t think there’s anything else left to be said.” He turns to me. “Emma, shall we?”

I raise my eyebrows as my gaze veers to my parents. There are a hundred things that I want to say to them. Why couldn’t you both just be normal? Why weren’t we enough for you? Didn’t losing Sienna teach you anything? Didn’t it hurt?

But I’m starting to realize that sometimes the healthiest thing you can do with certain people is simply to walk away.

I slip my hand into Ruslan’s. “Let’s go home.”

We head off in the direction of his Rolls Royce and I take a deep, staggering breath that feels like it releases a lifetime of pent-up frustration and resentment.

I buckle myself into the passenger’s seat and glance at Ruslan as he turns on the engine. “Thank you,” I say softly. “For having my back.”

He answers by palming the back of my neck, hooking me toward him, and pressing his lips hard against mine. The kiss hits like it’s the first time we’ve ever done it. That sense of build-up, of butterflies, of electricity dancing on your skin. When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless and flushed.

“You’re my woman now, Emma. And no one talks to my woman like that.”

My heart flutters as he places one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on my thigh. The possessiveness in his touch is as exciting as it is terrifying.

Mostly because it forces me to face what I’m feeling. I’m well past the point of infatuation and lust. This is not a crush that will pass. This is not a friendship that involves sex.

As far as my feelings are concerned, this is the real freaking deal. So, for the first time, I let myself think the thought I’ve kept locked away in a dark corner of my heart for months upon months.

I am completely, madly, desperately in love with Ruslan Oryolov and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

37

RUSLAN

I don’t know what witchcraft she employed, but Emma has somehow managed to convince me that a family boat day is the only appropriate way to celebrate our newfound freedom.

No Ben.

No Remmy.

No Beatrice and Barrett.

It’ll be fun, she said. Quality time with the kids, she said. Open ocean, fresh air—it’s the break we need, she said.

She even suggested I invite Fyodor and Vadim and somehow, I’d agreed to that too.

Like I said—witchcraft.

Either that or the fact that she was pushing her swollen breasts in my face at the time. Come to think of it, that might also have been a major contributing factor. Then again, every time I look at her body, I can forgive myself for the lapse. Those aren’t breasts a man can easily say no to.

We end up on my private yacht far enough into the ocean that we can’t see land from any side. Emma comes up next to me on the bow and leans against the stanchion. She’s wearing a white cotton dress and when the wind whistles through, it pulls the fabric taut against her growing belly. My cock stirs at the sight of her, curved and beautiful, hair flapping in the breeze.

“Most people don’t get on hundred-foot yachts for a ‘family boat day,’” she accuses with a shy little smile and laugh.

I smirk. “Only the best for my family.”

Her smile softens. “You don’t have to go overboard, you know? Figuratively speaking. The kids and I would have been happy making sandcastles on the beach.”

“And mix with the rabble?” I scoff. “No way. You need to be out here, where only I can see you looking this fucking good.”

She giggles, her gaze drifting slowly towards the main cabin where the children have disappeared to change into their swimsuits. Fyodor and Vadim are lounging on the starboard side, nursing cocktails in near-identical linen suits.

“I like your father,” she murmurs.

I cup the back of her elbow and stroke the skin there softly. “He likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’s smiled more today than he has in the last five years. He lost his smile when he lost my mother and brother. It’s good to see it again.”

Those compassionate eyes of hers fill up with tears. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him.” She pauses for a second and sighs. “Actually, I can. There was a time after Sienna’s death that I thought I’d never smile again, either.”

I nod. “Losing anyone you care about is hard. Losing a sibling is harder. You’re supposed to grow old with them, you know?”

She wipes away a tear and places her fingertips on my wrist. “I know.”

“Leonid was supposed to be pakhan. But there was no time to mourn him. I was forced to pick myself up and carry on.”

“That’s what happened to me, too. I had to be there for the kids. I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.”

It’s weird to think I have so much in common with Emma. When she first walked into my office almost two years ago, she couldn’t have seemed more different than me, more alien.

And now…

Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.

It’s a sobering thought. One that makes me reflect on my father’s mental catatonia. Would I have reacted any different if I were to lose Emma or one of those kids? Could I really afford to have judged him when I had no goddamn clue what he had gone through?

Emma’s hand is still on my wrist, rubbing it in slow, tender circles. “What was your brother like?”

“What was he like?” I repeat, thinking back as his face flashes before my mind’s eye. “He was everything to me when I was a boy. Confident, fierce, charismatic. Protective as hell.”

She smiles. “Sounds like someone I know.”