Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 24

I make a note. “Will do. Did you want something scheduled for one o’clock?”

“No. Raquel will be joining me for lunch.”

My pen freezes on the paper. Raquel is one of the rich, beautiful socialite-slash-influencer-slash models that Ruslan keeps in his rotation for parties, events, and charities. Every so often, one of his “dates” shows up at the office to have lunch with him.

I swallow hard and glance up from my notepad. He’s not looking at me. His attention is back on the laptop screen.

I could break the invisible boundaries of our agreement right now and ask him just what the hell he’s playing at. Are you having lunch with her alone? Why are you having lunch with her at all? Didn’t we agree to be monogamous?

But the moment I ask any one of those questions, he’s going to know I care. He’s going to assume I’m getting attached, emotional… clingy.

“Will that be all, sir?” I’m proud of the fact that my voice remains composed and casual.

“That will be all.”

I nod and step out, even though my heart is doing stupid, self-pitying pitter-patters in my chest.

This isn’t some torrid romance.

It’s business.

I need to remember that.

“Pizza?”

Both Reagan and Caroline are looking up at me with wide eyes, their excitement momentarily suspended until they get concrete confirmation that the cheesy goodness I’m holding is indeed for them.

I turn the boxes to the side to give them a glimpse of the logo. “Two pizzas!”

It’s like I just announced that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny just teamed up to invent a new holiday. Both girls erupt into a chorus of unintelligible screams. I’m fighting a nasty migraine, but honestly, seeing them this happy is so worth it.

I’ve been feeling like a failure as an aunt and a guardian lately and, even though all I’m offering them is cheesy dough, it still feels like a victory.

“Auntie Em?” Josh walks over to me from the kitchen.

“Hey, Joshie!” I wrap an arm around his shoulder. “Did you hear the news? We’re having pizza for dinner.”

He frowns. I hate that he’s become so wary of good fortune.

“I felt bad about last week,” I explain in a quieter voice. “I promised you guys pizza and we ended up eating cornflakes.”

“That’s okay. I like cornflakes.”

“But you love pizza. Am I right?” That gets a small smile out of him. “Come on; let’s go unbox these babies.”

The girls spread their arms, pretending to be birds, and zoom into the kitchen behind us. Thankfully, the kitchen isn’t the disaster area I expect. It looks relatively clean, with the notable exception of the giant human stain sitting at the table.

Ben eyes the boxes when I set them down. “Two?”

I have my fabricated answer at the ready. “It was a buy-one, get-one-free deal.”

Josh grabs plates while the girls fill up glasses of water for everyone. Ben is the only one who doesn’t move, except to knock back the beer he’s palming.

“Thought you were strapped for cash.”

I don’t like the look in Ben’s eye. “I am. But the kids deserve to have a little treat once in a while.”

“Mm. So this has nothing to do with the new guy in your life?”

I ignore him altogether and just speak to the kids. “Okay, guys, gather around and sit down. I wanna tell you something.”

Ben crosses his arms. “This oughta be good.”

I have no idea why he’s been all up in my business recently, but I’m too happy to care today. “I’m gonna be putting in a lot of overtime in the next few months, so you might be spending a lot more time with Amelia. Is that okay?”

Ben glares at me. “If they said it wasn’t, would it make a difference?” I. Will. Not. Get. Sucked. In.

“Guys?”

“Sure, Auntie Em,” Josh offers for all three of them.

Ben cocks an eyebrow. “Overtime, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”

I spend the whole dinner feeling like I’m playing a game of dodgeball. He keeps lobbing questions at me and I keep avoiding them. I’m prepared to lie through my teeth for the rest of my life if I need to. Because there’s no way I’m telling Ben I’m making more money. Just like there’s no way I’m letting his bitterness screw me and the kids over again.

Over my dead body.

Better yet—over his.

18

RUSLAN

It was a mistake to fuck her.

I was working under the assumption that sleeping with Emma would get her out of my system. We’d have regular sex, it would eventually get boring, and then I’d terminate our contract. She’d get a fat severance package and I’d be able to walk away without a care in the world.

What I didn’t count on was her tunneling her way into my subconscious.

I go to bed thinking about our next meeting. I wake up horny from dreams of her. I spend most of my day trying not to look at her too long or too intensely.

It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is. I need to get my head on straight. And I’ve decided that the best way to do that is to make plans for lunch or dinner with a different woman every day for a week until this resolves itself.

It serves the dual purpose of keeping me distracted as well as keeping Emma in her place—which is preferably right beneath me. Naked and spread-eagled.

But since that can’t happen any time between the hours of nine and five, this is a better remedy. She doesn’t get to question me about who I have lunch with and I don’t need to feel guilty about welcoming a different woman into my office each day.

Sure enough, there’s no guilt when I look at the name on my calendar today.

But the dread is real.

“Mr. Oryolov?”

I keep my gaze fixed on my phone. The angelic white blouse that Emma is wearing today is giving me “preacher’s daughter” vibes and I’ve already wasted most of the morning imagining her on her knees in front of me, begging to be corrupted.

“Yes?”

“Jessica Allens has just arrived.”

I can’t help my sneer. Jessica fucking Allens. Trust fund heiress. Socialite diva. Daddy’s girl. An allaround goddamned nightmare.