Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 16

“In addition to your monthly salary, you will be compensated for your time in the form of a weekly allowance.”

My eyes widen. “A what?”

“It’s simply a way to account for any expenses that might come up as a result of our arrangement. As I understand it, you have three young dependents?” I nod and he continues. “I’m aware that childcare is not cheap. The allowance will make sure they’re looked after so that you don’t have any distractions when you’re with me.”

The man is thorough; you gotta give him that. His explanation does go a long way toward making me feel better about the whole exchanging-sex-for-money dilemma. There’s still a lot of moral ambiguity, but it’s a little easier to ignore.

“One more thing.”

I shift in my chair, unease turning my palms sweaty.

“I’m not interested in trapping you, Emma. You’re free to break our contract at any time, as long as you give me notice. You will still get your severance package, as well as a good recommendation.” I exhale slowly, pleasantly surprised by the escape hatch he’s allowing me.

“However.”

I should have known. With men like Ruslan, there’s always a “however.”

“If you so much as breathe a word about this contract to anyone, then—

“Then,” I cut in, “the deal is off. No protection, no recommendations, no pension—and you have the means to completely destroy my chances of employment in any capacity ever again. I’ll be lucky if I can brew coffee for a living. Did I miss anything?”

He cocks his head to the side. That tiny little smirk is back. “You did not.”

I nod. “I pay attention, Ruslan.” It’s mildly embarrassing that goosebumps fleck my arms when I say his name. I’m lucky I chose long sleeves today.

He leans forward, those arms flexing as they hit the table. “Then you’ll have no problem following my rules.”

I laugh. “You better hope you can follow the rules.” I point to myself with both hands. “Hoot and a half, remember?”

Those amber eyes burn a little brighter. Then, without warning, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. His grip is tight, bordering on painful. He meets my gaze with an unflinching glare. “I’m going to make myself very, very clear: this isn’t a relationship. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your anything. Feelings aren’t an option.” I swallow a gulp and nod.

He relaxes his grip and sits back in his chair. “Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can enjoy dinner.”

An hour and a half later, the SUV pulls up outside my building.

I’m very satisfied right now, but not in the way I’d expected. The food at Eleven Madison Park was nothing short of holy. The conversation, however, was extremely lacking. In the most literal sense of the word. After we ordered, he barely said a word to me.

I’d half-expected him to take me back to his fuckpad after we finished dinner, but he gave the driver my address instead.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

Of course, he’s not gonna walk me to the door. That’s a boyfriend’s job, and he’s my… fuck buddy? Sugar daddy? Casual sex partner? Friend with benefits?

I almost snort at that last thought. We’re definitely not friends.

“Goodnight, Ruslan.”

To his credit, he waits until I’m inside the building before driving off. I watch the SUV go, its engine purring softly in the distance. And all I can think is…

What a waste of lingerie.

11

RUSLAN

“I believe she’s what they call a ‘hot mess.’” Isay’s chuckle comes to a grinding halt when he sees the look on my face. “Uh, um… ahem, what I mean is, she has a lot going on, boss.”

“Your job is to tell me what she’s got going on. I don’t need a running fucking commentary from the peanut gallery.”

He nods awkwardly, his ears turning beet red while his gaunt face remains comically pale. “Right. Of course. Err, so, she’s got a pretty large rent to deal with every month. And it looks like she has student loans that she needs to pay off as well. Then, of course, the funeral expenses. I frown. “Whose funeral?”

“Her sister’s.”

There’s a question on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it at the last second. I don’t need to know Emma’s life story. I don’t need to know about her past, her dreams, her fears, or her future goals.

I need to know just enough to make this little arrangement of ours a successful one. Beyond that, her traumas are her own.

Isay hands me the file and I scan through the numbers. “Fucking hell.”

I pay her well, but I certainly don’t pay her enough to be able to take care of all the shit she’s got going on right now. I’m actually impressed by her work ethic, considering how much stress she must be under. The only indication of that kind of pressure was the day she turned up late and I accused her of doing the walk of shame through my building.

“Okay.” I hand Isay back the ledger. “Take care of this for me.”

His eyes bug out. “Take care… Do you mean—All of it?”

“All of it.”

Isay looks down at the sheet of paper. “This is a lot of money to spend on one woman.”

I turn the full force of my glare on the man until his ears turn as red as the lipstick Emma wore to the other night’s dinner.

“I-I apologize, sir,” Isay stammers. “It’s just—”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Isay. It’s my fucking money and I’ll spend it on whatever I want.”

Isay nods so hard that his glasses slip down his nose and clatter on the desk. “I’ll get it done, sir.”

“See that you do. And inform me immediately after.”

Isay backs out of the room with his head bowed in deference. The man lacks a spine, but he has a head for numbers. Which is why he’s lasted this long.

It’s Sunday, which means Bane Corp. is a sleepy labyrinth of abandoned hallways and empty offices. I could have just had him come to my personal estate or one of my penthouses in the city, but I like the structure of keeping things separate.

Ironic, really, considering I’ve spent most of this weekend imagining all the different ways I plan on fucking my secretary tomorrow night during our first scheduled “meeting.” In every single fantasy I’ve had of her the last two days, she’s wearing that dangerous red blouse, her dark hair floating down to her breasts in an obsidian waterfall.

It took every ounce of my self-control to resist her that night. Those blood-red lips of hers were just begging to be claimed. Tomorrow, I plan to tongue-fuck the color clean off them.

But I refused to let myself lose control until the time was right. If this arrangement is going to work, I need to set boundaries and I need to stick to them.

Paying off Emma’s debts is just a way of weeding out the mess so that she can focus on meeting my needs. It’s purely selfish.

And yet…

I keep thinking about her reaction when I tell her that she’s debt-free. I keep thinking about how relieved she’ll feel, how much lighter with that colossal weight off her shoulders.

And yeah, there’s a deep-seated, caveman-like sense of satisfaction that comes with knowing that I’m giving her that.

Her question about seeing other men pissed me off in the moment, but now? Good luck finding any other man who can do this. I’d almost like to see her try.

Of course, I’m not the sort of man who does anything for free. I expect her to make it worth my while with that sweet, delicious body of hers.

Tomorrow.

One more fucking night and then she’s all mine.