Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 57

I’m thrilled with how well this day has gone. Not only did Josh get to play his very first basketball match, but he won. More importantly, he looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. As much as I’d like to give the game all the credit, I know that Ruslan’s presence has made a world of difference.

It sets a stark contrast to the man we left at home in a drunken stupor. I’ve tried to explain it to Ben several times in the past: your kids don’t care if you’re rich or smart or funny or cool. They just want you to show up.

Which is probably why, even though I am thrilled about today, I’m also terrified. Because I can’t expect Ruslan to show up like this all the time. He’s a temporary part of our lives and so the way the kids are looking at him right now freaks the hell out of me.

They’ve already lost their mother. In many ways, they’ve lost their father, too. As much as I’ve tried to fill the holes in their lives, I’m starting to realize that I can’t be all the things they’ve lost. I can’t be all the things they need.

And as for Ruslan…

Reagan whispers something in his ear and he laughs. I’ve never seen him smile so much. He runs a hand down Caroline’s long hair and says something back to Reagan that makes her giggle.

It’s bad enough that he’s handsome and smart and successful. Does he have to be so damn nice as well? Does he have to be so damn generous? Kind? Thoughtful?

It makes me think—there has to be a catch, right? I mean, no man is that perfect.

That, in turn, makes me do a double-take. What am I saying? Ruslan Oryolov sure as hell is not perfect. He’s a cutthroat business mogul who may or may not have ties to the Russian mafia. He may or may not be the freaking Russian mafia.

He’s also spent the last eighteen months of my life being the bosshole from hell.

The thing is, the more time I spend with him now, the harder it becomes to remember what he was like back then. I guess the only thing I can do is keep reminding myself. Because even though he seems pretty content to play the role of Temporary Daddy, there’s no way in hell it’s a role he wants for keeps.

Our contract will end sometime and, when it does, I’m gonna have to move on. And so will the kids.

I’m just hoping he doesn’t do anything else between now and then that’ll cause my uterus to throw herself at his feet.

Ruslan clears his throat. “Josh, in honor of your first win, I have something for you.”

Well, that didn’t take long.

“Be right back,” Ruslan says, popping Reagan off his lap. “Gotta go get it from the car.”

Phoebe glances at me as he strides out of the ice cream shop, drawing plenty of admiring gazes on his way. “Did you know about this?”

“Not a thing.”

Josh is peering out the window as Ruslan grabs something from the trunk of his car and walks back into the creamery. “Here you go,” he says, handing the thin package to Josh.

The girls help Josh tear the colored blue paper off. I’m so focused on how animated Josh’s face is that I don’t even look at the present until he gasps, his eyes growing even wider.

“A Knicks jersey!”

Ruslan points towards the bottom of the jersey. “It’s signed, too.”

Josh looks like he’s about to swallow his own tongue. “I-I-I…”

Reagan and Caroline giggle. “Joshie forgot how to speak.”

“Thank you,” Josh breathes at last. “Thank you so much!”

I try to dab away my tears without anyone noticing, but nothing gets past Ruslan. I catch him staring at me before I turn my face away to hide.

Ruslan claps Josh on the back. “You deserve it. You played well today.”

“I’m gonna put it on right now,” Josh insists.

“Are you sure, honey?” I ask. “Why not wait ‘til we get home?”

Josh’s face curdles into a frown. “If Dad sees it, he’ll try to sell it, Aunt Em. I can’t wear it at home.”

Ruslan’s eyes meet mine for a second and, even though I can’t be sure what he’s thinking, I imagine, based on that scorching look in his eyes, it goes a little something like, That fucking sorry excuse for a father.

When everyone’s done with their ice cream, I take the girls to the bathroom to clean up their sticky mouths and their even stickier hands. On the way back to our table, I notice Phoebe leaning towards Ruslan, her expression earnest. The last time she looked that serious was when I’d told her Sienna was gone.

I have no idea what’s been said while I was in the restroom, but I catch the tail end of their conversation.

“… just don’t hurt them,” she whispers. “Any of them.”

Ruslan doesn’t move. His expression is hard to read, but he answers immediately.

All he says is, “I won’t.”

40

RUSLAN

“Good evening, Mr. Oryolov!”

Kirill snorts into his drink while I lean away from the phone in confusion. Hearing Sergey this chirpy is certainly a departure from the norm.

“I’m guessing you have good news to share?”

His breathing, despite his good mood, is still huffy and heavy. Apparently, that’s not a nervous thing, just a Sergey thing. “Sir, so far, all the trials we’ve conducted have been a roaring success. The new formula is performing well, with minimal side effects.”

“Excellent. And what about final studies?”

“Close to being completed, sir.”

“Final chemical shipment?”

“Due in two days.”

Kirill meets my gaze with a satisfied smirk. “We’re right on track,” he mouths to me.

“I’ll check in tomorrow. Keep it up, Sergey.”

Kirill punches his fist in the air as I hang up. “You’ve done it again.”

“I’m not celebrating until the launch event is over with,” I warn.

He waves a hand dismissively. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, dude. Our dealers have been hyping up Venera, pushing a couple of ‘exclusive’ samples to give the public a taste of it. People are losing their goddamn minds over this stuff. And happy customers spread the word to other happy customers. By the time we launch, it’s going to be the number one demand on everyone’s lips.” He cocks an ear to the window and softly chants, “Ve-ner-a. Ve-ner-a,” as if there’s a crowd of hungry partiers lining up outside to get their hands on a taste of the stuff.

It’s hard to temper the sense of victory, but I’m also keenly aware that a lot can change in a matter of days. I’m not willing to fuck things up by being overconfident about this launch. I’ll leave that task to Kirill.

“Speaking of the launch party—”