Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 94

“Ruslan! Where the fuck are you?”

“I told you something came—”

“Yeah, well, something’s come up here, too. And it’s not good.” He’s normally unflappable. Nothing is a big deal to him. So to hear the panic in his voice right now…

“What’s going on?”

“Are you alone?”

My gaze slides to Emma. She’s sitting there quietly, hands tangled together, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Emma’s here but it’s okay. You can tell me anyway.”

Kirill hesitates for only a second. “We started circulating the Venera a little over an hour ago. Everything was going smoothly. Everyone’s mood was up. The samples were doing their magic. And then—”

And then…

“—we had five people O.D.”

I nearly crash into the car in front of us. Emma screams and grabs my arm instinctively. I just barely manage to veer away in time to avoid the collision.

The only thing better than my reflexes are my instincts.

And they’re telling me that there’s foul play at work here.

“Venera’s not that kind of drug. It’s an aphrodisiac. Basically just an oyster on steroids. It’s not even fucking possible to overdose on it.”

“Brother, I’m looking at five bodies right now that say otherwise.”

Emma’s eyes are wide, fearful, and aimed right at me.

“Get one of the men to pick Sergey up,” I order. “Go yourself if you need to. I want him at the club fucking immediately. I’ll be there soon.”

Emma doesn’t say anything when I hang up. But a second later, she moves her hand to my knee and squeezes it gently. It’s amazing how much of a difference one small gesture can make. The fear I saw in her eyes earlier is not because of me.

It’s for me.

“I have to go handle this.”

“I know. Of course you do. I can just get a cab back—”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I growl. “I’m dropping you off at my place. I’ll be back once I’ve got the situation under control.”

She accepts that wordlessly. At least until we arrive outside the sleek thirty-five floor luxury skyscraper. Then she turns to me with a frown. “This is Madison,” she says. “Not 48th Street.”

“Penthouse #1. The access code is 23-28-37.”

She seems flustered when she exits the SUV and gives me a half-hearted wave as I drive off. I’ll have to worry about Emma after tonight. Right now, I need to focus on the botched Venera launch.

Ping. I chance a quick look at the text I’ve just received from Kirill.

KIRILL: Sergey’s missing.

Fuck.

70

EMMA

The Inner Sanctum.

That’s how the penthouse on Madison is referred to around the water cooler at Bane. People have more factual information about Atlantis or Narnia, though. If the rumors are to be believed, Ruslan paid a whopping three hundred and thirty million dollars to purchase it a few years ago.

No one has ever seen the inside of it.

Until now.

First of all, it’s breathtaking. Like a palace in the sky. Even my frazzled brain is capable of noticing just how beautiful every single detail of this place is.

But that’s not why I like it. I like it because it smells like him. That familiar oaky spice is everywhere and it’s absurdly comforting.

How did I end up here?

Not only had Ruslan spoken freely to Kirill in my presence while we were in the car, but he’d given me access to the Inner Sanctum? To the untrained eye, they may have seemed like small gestures, but I know how significant they are. He’s sending me a message with those gestures.

He’s choosing to let me into his life.

He’s letting down his walls bit by bit.

He’s telling me he trusts me.

And this is the place I’m gonna have to tell him that I’ve fucked it all up. That, soon, the world will know about our dirty contract. That my dumb ass has gone and pressed the self-destruct button without even realizing it.

I leave the entry gallery and venture towards the stunning views that overlook Central Park. The furniture is minimalistic, but I love every piece I see, including the curved white sofa that takes up an entire side of the living room. It looks like he plucked a literal cloud right out of the sky.

I follow his scent around the apartment. Most of the rooms look untouched. The master bedroom is the only one that feels like it’s truly finished. I note a desk next to the bed, a pair of shoes tossed casually aside, a few of Ruslan’s shirts strewn over the divan.

I recognize the baby blue shirt that he wore just yesterday. I pick it up and bring it to my nose, inhaling sharply. Like an addict taking a hit for the first time in years.

If only I could bottle that smell…

I’m gonna want to remember it once this all blows up in my face.

I end up stripping down to my underwear. Then I pull the baby blue shirt on and crawl into his bed. There’s that smell again, clinging to the bedsheets. I lie in the middle of the mattress, curled up into a ball. I just stare up at the ceiling and do my best not to think of anything at all.

After I’ve spent an hour spacing out, I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t tried calling or checking.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I’m not sure if I’m waiting for him to return—or dreading it.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep when I finally hear a sound from beyond the room. I jerk upright instantly, wide awake all of a sudden. Before I can go investigate, Ruslan strides in. He’s already discarded his coat somewhere and he’s unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

He doesn’t acknowledge me apart from a small nod in my direction. His eyes are hollowed-in, dark circles circling them and making his sharp cheekbones even sharper. I’ve never seen him like this before.

Angry? Of course.

Frustrated? Definitely.

Annoyed? More times than I can count.

But tired? The kind of tired that sits on your shoulders and drags you down toward the earth? Never. Not even once.

“Ruslan—”

I’m on my way out of the bed when he holds up a hand to stop me. “No. Stay right there.”

He strips his shirt off, then his pants. He discards both on the floor and climbs into bed with me. He lies on his back, his face aimed at the ceiling just like mine was a moment ago, and closes his eyes. Only after a few minutes of silent breathing does he finally speak.

“Fuck.”