Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 52

I remember mentioning it to him during one of my word vomit episodes, which—now that I think about it—are becoming entirely too frequent. Is it possible that he not only remembered, but actually did something about it?

“Are you my patron?” Josh asks innocently.

“I wish I could take the credit, but no, I’m not.”

Caroline gasps. “Maybe you have a fairy godmother!”

“Or a fairy godfather,” I mutter. The sudden image of Ruslan in a Tom Ford suit and sparkling fairy wings makes my snorts turn into giggles and the kids join in until we’re all laughing so hard we have tears running down our cheeks.

The moment is too good to forget. I take my phone out, open the camera, and switch it to selfie mode.

“Okay, everyone: smile!”

Afterwards, the kids gobble down their ice creams and I open Ruslan’s thread and attach the picture I just took.

EMMA: Took the kids out for ice cream in the new car. As you can see, they’re over the moon.

EMMA: Josh showed us his basketball enrollment form. The girls think he has a fairy godmother and now, I’m imagining you with a wand and a sparkly halo. :laughing face:

EMMA: All I can say is—thank you! I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

I’m crossing multiple lines with the texts, not to mention the picture, but I have to say something. He needs to know how much this means to us. To all of us.

So I take a deep breath and press send.

36

RUSLAN

I unlock my phone the moment I sit down at my desk. It opens to the picture that Emma sent me last evening.

Those four smiling faces stare back at me and I’m struck by how happy they all seem. And for what?

A ten-minute drive?

A little ice cream?

Basketball?

I considered them small gestures on my part, so inconsequential as to be damn near meaningless—but those messages from Emma make me feel like I’ve transformed their lives somehow.

All I can say is—thank you! I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

I don’t know what the fuck to call the way that makes me feel.

It’s only 8:20 A.M. when Emma arrives at the office. Not that I should be surprised she’s here so early; I gave her a car citing that specific reason. She slips into my office and walks right around my desk.

I can barely compute what’s happening when she sits herself down right on my lap and wraps her arms around me. Despite my shock, I’m struck by two things right off the bat.

One: this is definitely breaking a rule.

Two: it feels so damn natural. Seamless.

My fingers twitch as they curl around the small of her back. Why the hell is my chest suddenly more alive than my cock?

A little voice at the back of my head laughs at me. Because this is not sexual. It’s something completely different.

That alone should make me want to push her the hell off. But the mere thought only makes my hand clutch tighter around her.

She drapes an arm around my shoulders. “The kids and I want to thank you properly for yesterday.” I frown. “There’s no—”

“You’re invited to dinner tonight at the apartment.”

I stop short. Dinner? At her place? The last time I was there, I had the distinct impression that she was uncomfortable with me in her space.

Which is why, even though I should be turning her down, I find myself nodding.

It’s just curiosity. I want to see into her life. I want to know more. We’ll call it “research.” And honestly, we’ve already broken so many rules already.

What’s one more?

I show up exactly on time, with three tiny bouquets of flowers in hand. Of course, it’s Josh who opens the door for me. His usually somber face transforms into a small, self-conscious smile as he steps aside and invites me in.

I’m barely two steps inside when I hear two little gasps. “Flowers!” Reagan bounces up to my waist. “Are those for me?”

Smiling, I hand her one of the bouquets. “This one is.” Then I turn to Caroline. “And this one’s for you.”

Emma walks out of the kitchen, her face aglow with a soft smile. “Girls, what do you say?”

“Thank you!” they sing in unison.

I’m struck by how Emma looks tonight. No pencil skirts or silk blouses. No high heels and not a dab of makeup in sight.

She walks barefoot toward me, her hair flowing freely over her shoulders. She’s wearing a simple white cotton dress with thin tied straps that hugs her waist before flaring out subtly at her hips.

She’s fucking beautiful.

I hand her the last bouquet of flowers and she accepts it with a small blush. “You shouldn’t have,” she demurs, holding the bouquet up to her nose.

Josh is eyeing me from the corner. I pull out the Nintendo Switch that I had Kirill purchase for me and hand it over. It’s not a fancy one, purely because I didn’t think Emma would appreciate anything too over-the-top for an eight-year-old.

Josh looks surprised. “For me?”

“For you.”

He takes it hesitantly. “Why?”

“Because you never show up anywhere empty-handed. My mother taught me that when I was about your age.”