Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 169

“You’re clearly not.”

She tries to touch me but I flinch from her. “Go back to bed, Emma.”

“Come with me.”

“I need to be by myself.”

“What you need is—”

“What the hell makes you think you know what I need?” I demand, practically spitting at her. “I’m the fucking pahkan. I’m the fucking boss. Who the hell are you?”

She grits her teeth, her blue eyes flashing. “I am your partner. I’m the mother of your children.”

“I’ve got news for you: ‘partner’ is still not ‘wife.’ And only one of those kids is mine.”

Three distinctive little gasps follow my words. I freeze on the spot, my eyes veering towards the open door down the corridor, where three pairs of wide eyes are staring at me with obvious hurt.

What the fuck have I done?

Why the fuck did I say what I said?

Josh grabs the girls and reels them back into the room. The slam of the door feels painful. It hits me right in the chest—right where my fucking heart ought to be.

I force myself to turn back to her. She shakes her head at me, but she doesn’t say a word. It feels like a test. And not one I can pass.

So instead, I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“I can fix this. I just… I can’t go in like this.” I look down at myself and feel a wave of disgust. “I can’t talk to them in this state.”

She still doesn’t speak. I can’t meet her eyes anymore. The last few minutes have eaten away the alcohol in my bloodstream. And everything is starting to hurt again.

“I’m sorry…” I mumble.

I don’t even sound sincere. I sound like a miserable drunk.

And perhaps it’s that realization that has me spinning around, turning towards the staircase. I should stay and deal with the consequences of my words, my actions. But instead, I run.

Like a man who’s so afraid of getting hurt that he decides to be the first to cause it.

48

EMMA

“Josh, sweetheart, you need to eat something.”

His eyes rise to mine but it’s like he’s looking through me, not at me. “I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat anything all day yesterday,” I say, pushing some toast towards him. “Just one piece. For me. Please?”

He blinks and turns away from the toast. “I’m going outside.”

“Josh, honey—”

He’s gone before I can think of more hollow words of comfort to throw at him. Honestly, it’s worse than watching the girls. At least they cried it out yesterday. But Josh?

He’s gone practically catatonic on me.

I contemplated calling Dr. Alicia in for an emergency session. The only reason I didn’t is because Josh stopped me before I could even start dialing. He put his hand on my arm and shook his head from side to side without even saying a word. And because I didn’t want to add to his anxiety, I listened.

I wonder if that was the right choice.

I glance over at the girls. They were quiet after they finished crying yesterday and apparently, that isn’t gonna change this morning. Both of them are picking at their cornflakes with muted disinterest.

“Rae, Caro—finish your cereal, guys. You love Frosted Flakes.”

Reagan scrunches up her nose and lets go of her spoon. It plops forlornly into the pool of milk. “I want to go outside, too.”

Sighing, I nod. I’d let them get away with murder right now if that’s what it takes to make them feel even one percent better. Reagan trots off after Josh but Caroline stays in her seat, watching as her siblings wander over to the fountain framed through the window.

“Do you wanna join them, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head silently. I had a talk with them yesterday. I made excuses for Ruslan. I told them he didn’t mean what he said. That he was tired, and under pressure, and that he wasn’t himself when he said it. I told them that once he cleared his head, he would come and talk to them. He would apologize.

He would stop being such a total fucking asshole.

That last part was more of a silent addition that I’d tacked on in my head. It was definitely implied, though.

“Auntie Em?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Caroline turns her bright eyes on me. I’m not used to seeing her so somber. It makes me shiver all the way down to the bone. “Why hasn’t he come to see us yet?”

“I… I’m sure—” I stop short the moment I realize that I’m not sure. Truthfully, I have no idea what Ruslan will do. And I have no idea when he’ll do it. I saw a different man in his eyes when he said those horrible things and it scared me to my core.

“I don’t know, my love. I wish I did.”

Her face crumples up and she pushes away her bowl of cereal. “I’m not hungry, either. May I be excused?”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Of course.”

She scurries off, but not towards the gardens like I expect. She heads upstairs to her bedroom. I leave the breakfast nook and storm towards Ruslan’s office.

Break my heart—fine.

Break theirs?

Un. Fucking. Forgivable.

The office door looms large at the end of the hallway. He’s been hiding out there since he came back home hammered out of his mind. I’ve pegged him for a lot of things, but never a coward.

What the hell happened? I want to scream. Explain yourself!

But I also find myself thinking, does it even matter? Life is hard. People are awful. Shit’s gonna happen. He doesn’t get to lash out at me and the kids every time something goes wrong for him. It’s not fair.

It’s not exactly a conscious decision but suddenly, I find myself turning away from Ruslan’s office and picking up my cell phone to call someone else instead.

It’s a quick conversation, but I get what I want immediately. As soon as I hang up, I race upstairs and start packing. I only bring the essentials—Sienna’s music box goes in first, of course—for myself and Josh. When I go into the girls’ room to prepare bags for each of them, I find Caroline lying on the bed with her face buried in a pillow.

“Sweetheart?” I whisper. She lifts her head reluctantly. “What would you say to leaving the estate for a bit?”

She lifts her eyebrows and nods slowly. “Okay…”

I offer her the strongest smile I can. It’s not much, but it’s something. “Good. Go get your brother and sister.”

“Emma?”

Dammit!

I gesture for the kids to get in the car before I turn to face Kirill. His eyes are fixed on the large duffel bag slung off my shoulder.

“Where’d you come from?”