Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 23

I leave him to his entourage and find Kirill in the same spot by the bar where I’d left him. “Well?” he asks the moment he spots me.

I lean against the counter and turn to face the crowd. “I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but…” “Trouble’s brewing?”

I scan the second mezzanine. Adrik’s entourage remains in the same box, but the man himself is missing.

“Lots of it.”

16

EMMA

I smell him before I see him. The rancid scent of sulfur and vomit burns my nostrils as I remove my heels and tiptoe toward my room. If I just stay quiet enough…

“Where’ve you been all night?”

Dammit.

Ben is propped up on the living room sofa, and of course, tonight of all nights, he happens to be wide awake.

“Just… out.”

He frowns, his tongue clicking softly. “It’s late.”

I drop my heels off to the side. “Which is why I’m heading straight to bed.”

His eyes narrow and, for a moment, I feel like a teenager who’s broken curfew. “The kids were asking for you all night.”

“I was busy, Ben. What do you want me to say?” He has some nerve, making me feel guilty about this. “I would think you’d be grateful to spend some quality time with your kids.”

He ignores that and swings his legs off the sofa to snatch up a can of beer from where it’s lying on the floor. “Who’s the guy?”

I tense immediately. “What guy?”

“The guy you missed bedtime for. The guy you’re clearly fucking.”

My lips purse. “Goodnight, Ben.”

I leave him to his depressing pyramid of empty beer cans and seek refuge in my room. My body is throbbing with the kind of slow ache that I used to find satisfying.

Except, in this case, all I feel is guilt.

It started way before Ben opened his big, fat mouth. Right around the time Ruslan flung my clothes in my face and told me, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted me out of his bed and out of his space.

Charming.

I would have loved to just fall into my pillows and wipe my thoughts clean. But I can still smell him on me. Musky, oaky, minty. I strip down and jump into the shower. The water is cold, but I don’t mind. For a few seconds at least, I’m so focused on my breathing that I forget the way Ruslan ushered me out of his apartment and practically shoved me out the elevator doors.

The building security guard had given me a skeptical look. You’re just one more in his revolving door of conquests, so enjoy it while it lasts and be prepared for when he decides he’s had enough of you.

There’s a slight chance I may have been projecting.

It’s just that it felt so good—in the moment, at least. I’d been nervous, sure. But he managed to calm me down and put me at ease.

I lost myself in the heat of his gaze and the next few hours became a whirlwind of panting, moaning, sweaty, breathy, intense sex. The kind of sex that you call your best friend about so that you can give her all the salacious details because you can’t quite believe just how good it was.

I can’t call Phoebe, though. Because telling anyone about my arrangement with Ruslan would mean forfeiting both a ton of money and a ton of good sex.

Did I say good sex? I mean great sex. I mean mind-blowing, once-in-a-lifetime, I’ll-feed-off-thememories-when-I’m-old-gray-and-trapped-in-a-boring-marriage kind of sex.

Still, great sex aside, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that I’m exchanging sex for money. There’s a word for it…

Oh, right!

Prostitution.

In other words, I’m a whore. A whore who reeks of the man who just used her body and then discarded her when he was done.

So what does it say about me that I actually enjoy the way his scent clings to my skin?

I punish myself by scrubbing said skin raw. By the time I get out of the shower, I’m bright pink from scalp to soles. The lavender body scrub I used has successfully erased his woodsy musk. But I still catch a few oaky notes in the air when I reenter my bedroom.

Stop it. He is not your freaking boyfriend. You don’t get to have expectations. You don’t get to have feelings. And you definitely don’t get to daydream about him after.

I turn off the lights and crawl into bed. Compared to Ruslan’s foamy, softer-than-air mattress, mine feels like a plank of hard plywood.

My skin stings from my aggressive wash, but it gives me some small measure of comfort. I just have to keep reminding myself why I signed his contract.

Mostly for those kids.

Partly for myself.

The reasoning behind the decision was sound. I just need to remember the rules. I need to adjust my expectations.

Time to be a big girl now.

17

EMMA

I’m at my desk at eight o’clock on the dot.

The point is to be here before him, so that I can prove to Ruslan—and to myself—that I can handle this arrangement. While we’re at Bane, he’s my boss. When we’re out of the office, he’s my—

Oh God, he’s here.

“Be cool, Emma,” I snap at myself under my breath.

He’s wearing a black Burberry coat over his tailored suit. His briefcase catches the light at his side. I lift my chin as he approaches. His eyes meet mine.

Three… two… one…

“Good morning, Mr. Oryolov.”

Stuck the landing. Nice job, girl.

He nods coolly and heads into his office. I let out a heavy breath and sink back against my chair. I’m actually pretty proud of how I’m doing. No one would guess I’d spent half the night tossing and turning, worrying about what Sienna would say if she ever found out I’d sold my soul to the devil.

He’s a handsome devil, though…

Focus! You’re at the office now. There’s no point thinking about the way he jerked himself off while watching you come. Or the way he fucked you over the gorgeous black armchair by the window. Or the moment when he—

Ping!

RUSLAN: Have the day’s schedule on my desk in five.

I snatch up the schedule I already printed and step into his office. “Here you are, sir.”

He takes the sheet of paper without looking away from his laptop screen.

So far, so good. Nothing’s been different about our interaction. He’s my boss; I’m his assistant. And I’m definitely not thinking about the way his jaw clenched every time he thrust into me last night.

Once he’s done scanning through the schedule, he hands it back to me. “Push my eight o’clock meeting by an hour. And I’ll need you to pick up lunch from Spice Symphony today.”