Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 159

EMMA

Chilton Academy.

It’s still an elite New York City private school, which means it’s still a red-bricked monstrosity with ivy creeping up the walls and Latin credos worked into the wrought iron gates.

But it’s not Horace Mann, so it only gives me a fraction of the full-body cringe that that old nightmare warzone would’ve given me.

As old school as the facade is, there’s nothing old school about the security system they’ve got in place. Boris has to scan his ID twice each at two different gates before he can drive the children and me into the school’s drop-off circle. Once he’s parked, I walk the kids towards the school. The girls have a separate entrance than Josh, so he tags along as I drop Caro and Rae off at their respective classrooms.

The classrooms are bright, airy, and colorful. Every teacher has that beaming sense of I’m friendly but you will learn from me, goddammit competence that puts my mama bear claws at ease.

When Josh sees the sign for his classroom, he gives me a wide grin and lopes off.

“Wait!” I call after him. “Don’t you want me to walk with you?”

Josh gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m good—but thanks, Aunt Em.”

I suppress a sigh. He’s all grown up. “Off you go then.”

Sighing, I turn and start the trek back to the car. It’s reassuring to pass by the armed security stationed at every corner. One of them mutters into the microphone at his lapel as I walk down the hall.

And just like that, an idea lights up in my head.

I pick up my speed and hustle back. The more I think about it, the more I like this. Now, I just have to convince Boris that taking me to Bane Corp. is a good idea. I decide to be super casual about it. “Kids are all settled, Boris. We can head over to the office now.”

He twists around in his seat. “The Bane offices, ma’am?”

“Yes. I have something urgent to discuss with Mr. Oryolov.”

Boris clears his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe I should call and check with him first—”

“Boris.” I fix him with my most intimidating glare. “I am not Mr. Oryolov’s prisoner. Nor am I his puppet. I do not need to check with him before I go somewhere and neither do you.”

“Actually, I do. I’m on the payroll.”

“And you’re assigned to me. Which means you take me where I want to go.” He’s still antsy, so I add, “It’s Bane, Boris. I’m not asking you to take me to a seedy strip club.”

He snorts with laughter and nods. “Alright then. Bane it is.”

“Wonderful.”

The drive to Bane takes longer than I expect in New York City traffic. I stew with my new idea but the bulb over my head doesn’t dim.

This could be something…

I unbuckle myself before Boris has even come to a full stop outside of the Bane skyscraper. I toss him a thank you and race into the building. I’m moving so fast that it doesn’t even hit me until the elevator doors open how freaking weird it is to be back here. Walking down the hall feels a little like trying on an old, forgotten dress. It’s familiar, but it doesn’t quite fit right. I haven’t been away for that long and yet, it feels like forever.

What’s even weirder is seeing the new guy at what was once my desk. Less weird is seeing the harried look of terror on his face. All things considered, that’s pretty standard for Ruslan Oryolov’s assistants.

Ruslan’s voice booms through the closed door of his office room. With every word, the new guy shivers.

“Fuck,” he mutters, completely unaware of my presence. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I smile. Not so long ago, that had been me.

That’s when New Guy glances up and nearly jerks out of his seat. “My goodness, you scared me!” He glances quickly towards the door. “My boss is… um… What can I do for you?”

Ruslan’s weekly schedule is pulled up on the screen but there’s a big, glaring blank spot in the middle of his calendar where there should be a meeting. I can’t help but notice that New Guy’s desk is a mess, too. I can sympathize. Mine had been the same the first few weeks on the job. It takes a while to get your bearings when there’s a minotaur stomping around and snarling Russian obscenities in the office behind you.

“I think I should be the one asking that question.”

New Guy frowns. “Um—”

“What were you freaking out about when I walked in?” I ask, forgetting for a moment why I’m here in the first place. “I might be able to help.”

“How?”

“Because, in a former life, I was you.”

New Guy looks pasty. There’s a nice guy there, deep down, buried beneath layers of fear. When he sees I’m serious, he wipes away the sweat on his brow. “I don’t know how, but I’ve lost an appointment here,” he says, pointing to the blank spot on his computer screen. “And I don’t remember what or who it was with. I don’t even have a number I can—”

I lean over his shoulder and nudge him to the side a little. Then I commandeer his keyboard and start tapping away at it.

“Wait. What are you… no, don’t press—wait!”

“Take a breath, sweetheart,” I advise him. “And maybe a Xanax.” I push the screen to the side so that he can see what I’ve recovered. “There. I fixed it for you.”

He looks ready to cry with relief as he turns his gaze to me. “Are you an angel?”

I laugh. I’m explaining the trick to him when Ruslan stalks out of his office on the warpath. His scowl dissipates the moment he sees me.

New Guy jerks to his feet and tries to bow and salute at the same time, which ends up looking like he’s slapping himself in the face and doubling over.

“Emma, what are you…” Ruslan trails off as his eyes veer towards New Guy. “She is never to be kept waiting. You see her, you send her into my office no matter what. I don’t care if I’m in a meeting or on a call or in fucking open heart surgery. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, of course, sir. I apologize—”

“I just got here, Ruslan. It’s okay.” I walk over to him, take his arm, and steer him back into his office. Partly because I do need to talk to him and partly because I want to spare New Guy the indignity of peeing himself.

“What are you doing here?” he growls, glancing at all the windows like armies of assassins might bust in at a moment’s notice.

“I convinced Boris to drive me over after dropping the kids off. So don’t yell at him, either, because I didn’t give him a choice.” I glance towards the closed door of his office. “Do you have to be such a brute in the office? Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar’?”

He rolls his eyes. “I prefer a ‘fear over love’ kind of approach.”

I snort. “Have you made him cry yet?”

“First day,” he says with entirely too much satisfaction. “And yet he showed up to work the next day, so I figured he had potential.” He pulls me hard against him and wraps his arms around me. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“While dropping the kids off, I had an idea.”