Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 153

Josh looks as thoroughly confused as I am. “But we’re not important.”

Ruslan puts his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “All three of you are important to me.”

Dammit.

It’s so hard to be pissed at the man when he says shit like that with those sincere amber eyes and those sexy lips. Hell, it’s hard to remember why you’re pissed at him in the first place.

But I’m determined not to let him bulldoze over me. If I start playing the doormat now, that shoots the whole “equal partner” concept to hell and I don’t want to set a bad precedent. I have to make sure my voice is heard.

Just not in front of the kids. Because they need peace and stability. Seeing your parents fight—well, whatever you’d call us, at least—is the exact opposite of that.

“I’m done with my pancakes!” Caroline declares. “Can I go play in the garden now?”

Reagan immediately starts chiming in, “Me, too. Me, too!”

The little one hasn’t finished her breakfast but I’m willing to overlook that because I need to prepare my soapbox. “Go on. Scram, you rascals.”

Once the kids have left the table, Josh trailing along after them, I turn to Ruslan, face screwed up in determination. “Can I see you in your office?”

One corner of his mouth twists up in amusement. Whether that has to do with my scowl or my words, I have no idea.

“Of course, kiska. Lead the way.”

Be strong, Emma, I tell myself. Don’t let all that charm distract you from your goal.

His hand finds the small of my back as we walk to his office. I grit my teeth.

Wait—what was my goal again?

The moment the door closes, I peel away from his touch and take up a stance against his desk. “I asked you here for a reason.” I cringe internally as soon as the words leave my lips. How does Ruslan say shit like that without sounding corny? When I do it, it’s like I’m cosplaying as Elle Woods from Legally Blonde.

“Another quickie on my desk?” Ruslan suggests, sauntering towards me with his eyes scanning my body.

Heat spreads through me and convulses between my legs. Focus.

“No!” It comes out a lot stronger than I’d intended. Mostly because I’m dangerously close to losing the plot altogether. “No. I want to talk about something serious, Ruslan. Sex is off the table.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “On the couch then?”

“You’re not listening.”

“You’re not getting to the point.”

“You’re being an ass!” I explode. “How’s that for getting to the point?”

He folds his hands in front of his waist and does me the minor courtesy of making a half-hearted attempt to tuck away the smirk. “How have I offended you?”

I exhale carefully. “I understand that you want to protect them. I know you love them. But those are my kids, too, and I should have been consulted before you decided to tell them—not to mention a judge—that you had enrolled them in a private school that I happen to hate.”

Any traces of his smile vanish completely. “You hate a school?”

I nod. “Sienna and I spent two semesters at Horace Mann before she pried us out of that hellhole.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“Probably because I’ve repressed most of my memories. The kids were cruel.” Another almost imperceptible flinch passes over his face. “We had to walk a certain way, talk a certain way. The teachers had clear favorites and, surprise-surprise, it was always whoever’s parents donated the most to the school. There were No Tolerance for Bullying posters on damn near every well, but guess which kinds of bullying they let slide? The kind that only leaves invisible scars.” I’m talking fast but now that I’m on a roll, I don’t want to stop. “Sienna pulled the fire alarm one day when she saw some of the other kids picking on me. She was suspended for a week and the dean told her that the only way she could come back to school was to make a public apology to the staff and the entire student body at the next assembly. She got up there in front of the whole school and told them all to go fuck themselves.”

He smiles and I can’t help smiling myself. At the time, I was mortified. Now… less so.

“She was expelled?”

I nod. “Of course. Before she even finished the sentence. My parents were so embarrassed, they pulled me out, too. That was my experience at Horace Mann. Needless to say, I have no desire for Josh, Caroline, and Reagan to be subjected to the same shit that Sienna and I had to go through.”

As usual, his expression is indecipherable. Is he getting ready to tell me to fuck off? Or is that sympathy I see? Who the hell knows? Those amber eyes are an enigma.

“I should have discussed this with you first,” he says at last. The relief is caught in my throat, though, because I can sense that he’s not done. “But Horace Mann is the safest place in this city. That is why I chose it. To keep them safe.”

I frown. “Don’t do that. Don’t make out like their safety isn’t important to me, too.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“No, but it’s what you’re implying. Surely there are other schools with great security.” His lips purse up but I take a step forward before he can speak. “I get that you’re used to being the boss, Ruslan. But when it comes to this family, you can’t make decisions unanimously anymore.”

His eyebrows pull together. “I’m responsible for the safety of this family.”

“Doesn’t mean you get to rule with an iron fist. I get to be part of the decision.”

“I know what’s best.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have enrolled them at Horace Mann.”

We’re almost nose to nose now. I’m feeling anger and frustration and all sorts of self-righteous indignation. But I’m also feeling the kind of heat that makes a girl all too aware of her body.

I shudder and suppress it. “I will not let you turn me into my mother, Ruslan Oryolov. She used to have a mind of her own before my father convinced her that being an Upper East Side snob was the only life worth living.”

“You think I’m going to turn you into a snob?”

“I think you’re trying—unintentionally or intentionally, not sure yet—to turn me into a compliant doormat who does what you say at the drop of a hat.”

He pauses, inscrutable as ever. “Okay.”

I blink a couple of times. “Okay?”

He swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. With it, he steps back, getting out of my face. He might as well be waving around a white flag.

“You’re right. I’ve been the boss for a very long time. I’m not used to discussing anything with anyone. Frankly, it didn’t even cross my mind. I’ll be better.”

I blink some more. It’s just not computing. He’s… apologizing? Promising to be better? Changing—for me?

Somebody pinch me—I must be dreaming.