Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 65

Josh nods. “You look beautiful.”

I’m gonna have to try doubly hard not to blush tonight. I don’t wanna blend into my dress too much.

“Thank you, my loves. Now, be good for Amelia and Aunt Phoebe. Go to bed when you’re told. No negotiations, okay?”

“Aw, can’t we come down and say hi to Ruslan?” Caroline pleads.

“Not tonight, honey.”

She hits me with her trademark heartbreaking pout, but I kiss her hard, leaving an imprint of my lips on her forehead.

“I want a kiss like that!” Reagan insists immediately.

I brand the girls with matching lipstick marks on their foreheads and blow kisses to everyone else. I take the stairs slowly, still getting used to the three-and-a-half inch—yes, Phoebe measured—Manolo Blahniks that Ruslan sent along with the dress.

When I finally reach the ground floor lobby, I take a deep breath. Ruslan’s SUV is parked out front, exactly on time as usual, but I need a second to collect my nerves.

This is your Cinderella moment, Emma. Just enjoy it.

“Okay. Here goes—”

I’m reaching for the front door of the apartment building when it flies inward, nearly taking my hand out. “Jesus! Caref—”

I catch the overpoweringly rancid scent of beer, smoke, and throw-up, and I freeze.

Leave it to my brother-in-law to ruin everything. As usual.

Ben takes a moment longer to recognize who he nearly clobbered with the door. When his eyes land on my face, they go wide. Then they trail over the length of my body. Twice.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he blurts at last.

I clear my throat. “It’s called a dress. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

When I try to walk around him, he blocks me. “Where the hell did you get the money for that get-up?”

I narrow my eyes. “If you must know, Ruslan gave it to me.”

“Oh, Ruslan gave it to you,” he sneers. “What else has he been giving you? I’ve got a guess.”

“Ben, I really don’t have the time for—”

“Did he pay off all your credit card debt, too?” Ben demands. “What about the basketball program Josh is in? Or the new shoes all the kids have suddenly? I’ve got guesses for all that shit also.”

I don’t want to answer the bastard, but it’s my best chance of getting out the door sooner. “Yes,” I grit out, “Ruslan helped with some of those things. And I paid off the rest.”

“How?”

“I’ve been putting in a lot of overtime lately, okay?” He’s moving a little closer to me and now, my sweat glands are really kicking it up a notch.

“Overtime, huh?” He leers. “Is that code for ‘working on your back’?”

“Asshole!”

I’m tempted to slap the hell out of him. Instead, making use of his unsteadiness, I bolt around him and rush through the door before he can stop me. Unfortunately, the rank turd follows me outside. “I’m not done talking to you!”

“Well, I’m done talking to you!”

I’m in the process of flipping him the bird when he grabs my arm. “Listen here, you—”

Suddenly, Ben is yanked right off me. I turn to my savior, expecting to see Ruslan. But instead, it’s Kirill who’s got Ben by the front of his soiled t-shirt.

“W-who are you?” Ben demands.

“Right now? Your worst nightmare.”

I raise my eyebrows. Under normal circumstances, a line like that would be a cringe-inducing cliché. But apparently, with the right delivery, it’s surprisingly effective. Ben seems to agree—he goes deathly pale and his twitching kicks up a notch.

“There are better men than you that have their eyes on Ms. Carson. And I won’t hesitate to pluck yours out if you ever lay a hand on her again. Understood?”

Ben nods obediently, his eyes wide with fear.

Kirill shoves Ben back. His heel catches the curb and he lands with his ass on the pavement. Kirill flashes me a charming smile and offers me his arm.

“Shall we, madam?”

It’s not exactly the fairytale departure I’d hope for.

But this Cinderella’s gonna take what she gets.

45

EMMA

“Where’s Ruslan?”

I’m busy adjusting my seatbelt so it doesn’t mess with my dress, so I miss Kirill’s facial expression. “He’ll be on his way to the gala now as we speak.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh. Does he have press to do on his own or something?”

Kirill’s forehead wrinkles. “Press?”

I’m starting to feel a little hot despite the fact that the air conditioning is blasting. “Well, um, I mean, I thought we were supposed to walk in together. Doesn’t he usually enter these galas with his dates?” His eyebrows rise but he gives me only a nod. “Usually, yeah, he does.”

Am I missing something?

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a country bumpkin or anything. It’s just that this is my first gala and I’m not sure how it all works. I was kinda hoping Ruslan would be with me to talk me through the whole thing.”

Kirill shifts to the side and clears his throat. “Well, the thing is, there’s a certain… protocol at these kinds of events.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

He gives me a glance that I can’t quite read. Is he nervous for me? Does he feel sorry for me? Does he think Ruslan made the wrong choice in choosing me as his date?

“The crowds at this type of thing are different than what you’re used to, Emma,” he explains gently. “Ruslan will be forced to be different, too.”

I have no earthly idea what that means. Is he trying to tell me that Ruslan’s not gonna be all loveydovey with me in public? ‘Cause if so, I’ve got news for him—Ruslan’s not really lovey-dovey with me in private, either.

“I know. Ruslan’s an important man. People want to meet him.”

Kirill nods. “I’m happy to keep you company, though.”

I smile uncertainly. “Thanks.”

Again—weird.