Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

A week has passed since the offer that rocked my world on its axis. I’m still pondering. Still dreaming. Still waking up breathless.

I need a distraction. But riding the elevator up towards Ruslan’s penthouse feels more like a recipe for disaster. I’m in no fit state to meet him. I’m in no fit state to meet anyone.

Today of all days…

It’s the whole entire reason I called in sick to work today. Of course I’d forgotten that we had a rendezvous scheduled for this evening and, instead of canceling like I should have, I decided to make use of the fact that Amelia was babysitting tonight.

So here I am, wearing my first-date dress.

Because the truth is, despite my mental state right now—I want to see him.

Even after he proposed the baby clause addendum to our contract. Because at this rate, what’s another clause, huh? What’s another contract?

This one just so happens to include a child. One that would be half his and half mine. I wonder if the fact that I’m here at all means that I’ve already made my decision.

No. Stop it. You’re too emotional today.

If there’s one thing that Sienna had taught me, it was that you never make big decisions when you are riding too high or too low.

I find Ruslan in the living room in all his shirtless glory. He’s got a wineglass in one hand and a book in the other. As distractions go, he’s a pretty good one.

“Whatcha reading?” I ask. He snaps the book shut and holds the cover up for me to see. “Alexander Pushkin, huh? Is he any good?”

Ruslan chuckles. “Only one of the greatest poets to have ever lived.”

I smile as I sit down on the couch next to him. “I didn’t realize you were into poetry.”

“I like beautiful things.” He sets his wine aside. “How are you feeling, kiska?”

“You don’t have to worry about catching anything from me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He arches one eyebrow at my outburst of feistiness. “I’m asking how you are feeling?”

“Fine,” I say without meeting his eyes. “I’m fine.”

He accepts that wordlessly. “Then come here.”

I hike my dress up and slide onto his lap, straddling him like always, but the usual needy throbbing that accompanies any kind of proximity to Ruslan is glaringly absent today. I swallow the lump in my throat and place my hands on his shoulders.

Distraction, distraction, distraction…

I lean in and kiss him, my tongue circling his, waiting for the pool of desire to knock me off my feet like it always does. But I’m too aware of everything. I feel clumsy and self-conscious. I feel the lump in my throat settle over my chest. And it hits me: I don’t need sex; I need to cry.

And just like that, a giant, ugly, uncontrollable sob escapes out of my mouth—and lands on his.

He pulls back, startled. “Emma?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…

“Are you crying?”

“N-n-n-no.”

“What happened?”

“Oh God,” I whisper through my tears. “I’m so s-sorry.”

I sure know how to spice up sexy time.

“Did I hurt you?” The fact that he even asks makes me sob harder. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

I just shake my head, unable to speak. I know that, if I try, everything will just come out in a warbled mess of unintelligible sounds. And I’ve already embarrassed myself plenty for one night.

I yelp, taken aback when Ruslan gathers me in his arms and gets to his feet. I cling to him as he walks me into the master bathroom and sits me down on the chaise lounge that sits opposite the gigantic drop-in tub.

As he starts filling the tub with water, I try to compose myself. That turns out to be a mistake in its own right; I just end up sobbing harder. I catch the scent of rosehips and hibiscus and, when I look towards the tub, I see a gentle pink foam bubbling on the surface of the water. Ruslan extends his hand out to me and I slip my fingers through his without even thinking about it.

He says there can’t be any romance here, but this feels like love I can fall back on when I’m not even sure I can stand upright on my own two feet anymore. I’m so beyond confused by Ruslan Oryolov. In the morning, I know I’ll look back on this and be confused even further.

But for now, for tonight…

I need him.

He pulls me to my feet and starts undressing me. I stand there, biting my lip, trying to get my game face on. But once we’re in the tub—him at my back and me staring at the pretty little foam bubbles that caress my skin—he doesn’t make a move.

He keeps his hands thrown over each side of the tub, while I lie nestled between his legs, my bare back pressed against his naked chest. By the time I stop crying, the foam has dissipated somewhat and the silence has gone on so long that it’s become comfortable.

When I finally break it, my voice comes out all croaky. “Today is… Sienna’s birthday. Or… it would have been.”

His right arm leaves the edge of the tub and wraps around my waist.

I rest the back of my head against his shoulder. “I don’t know why this day hit me so hard this time around.” I sigh. “I guess it was a few things. I came home late last night expecting to find the kids asleep. Amelia had gone home an hour earlier and Ben was supposed to be with the kids…”

“He wasn’t?” There’s a tiny little snap in Ruslan’s voice.

“No, no, he was. He just happened to have thrown up on the living room floor and passed out on the sofa.”

Ruslan’s arm tightens around my waist.

“I walked in to find Josh on his hands and knees, cleaning it up. His eyes were swollen, so I knew he’d been crying. I thought the kids would be okay with Ben for that hour. It was just one hour.” Thankfully, I’m all cried out. And I’m finding that saying all this out loud is really helping. “I helped him clean up but he barely said a word the whole time. He was just so… out of it. Even when I put him to bed, it was like he was looking through me.” I shiver with the weight of my failure. “I wanted to make Sienna proud. I wanted to be the best stand-in mother I could be for her kids. But…” My breath hitches up but I force myself to say it, the thing I’ve suspected for quite some time now but never dared utter aloud. “… I don’t think I’m a very good mother.”

It would have been the only gift she’d have wanted today. And I couldn’t even give her that.

“Emma. You are a good mother.”

I flinch. “You’re just saying that.”

“I never ‘just say’ anything.”

That almost makes me smile. “Well, you wouldn’t say it if you knew what goes on in my head sometimes.”

“Try me.”

I mean, I’d just admitted that I’m not a good mother. Why not back it up with some solid proof, huh? I’ve opened Pandora’s box, so why not let the secrets fly?

Also—those arms of his are making me feel like I can say anything and he’ll hold me together through it all.

“Sometimes, I think about accepting my parents’ offer to help.”

“And that’s a bad thing because their offer comes with strings?”

“Exactly.”

“Which are?”

I swallow my hesitation. “They’re willing to provide for the kids, but only if I grant them custody first.”

Ruslan gets very still all of a sudden. “And you don’t want to lose them?”

“It’s not that. I mean, of course I’d hate to lose them. I love those kids with every fiber of my being. But if they were going to be well-looked after, provided for and loved, then I would give my parents free rein. But Barrett and Beatrice’s idea of raising children involves fancy private boarding schools, foreign nannies, and mandatory attendance at horrible social events. Sienna fought so hard so that the two of us didn’t have to endure that life forever. She wouldn’t want her kids to have to go through the same thing. If she knew I was even considering it, she’d be so disappointed in me.”

Suddenly, I feel air flood my back as Ruslan pushes me off him. He twists me around so that we’re face to face.

“Emma.” His voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it before. “You’ve considered it—but you haven’t done it.”

Sniffing back my tears, I nod. “I know I can’t give them everything, but at least now, they have each other. They have me.”

“Trust me, Emma: money isn’t everything. You didn’t have to uproot your life for those kids. You didn’t have to take care of their father, either. You don’t have to put up with Ben and his demons—but you do all that anyway. Because you don’t want those kids losing their father as well.” My eyes connect with his and now, I can’t look away. “You have made every possible sacrifice for those children. You’d do anything for them and they know that. If that’s not a good mother, I don’t know what is. That’s why I wanted to add a baby clause into our contract. Because I want my child to have the comfort and benefit of your kindness, your love, your patience.”

My eyes go wide as he speaks. Am I really hearing this? It almost feels like I’m dreaming.

“I could easily hire a surrogate to carry a child for me. But that requires raising a child on my own and I don’t have the inclination or the skill set to do it alone. I want my child to have a real mother, a good mother. And I happen to believe that you are a great one.”

Those scorching amber eyes of his are softer tonight, buoyed by a tenderness that I’ve never seen in him before.

“I… I assumed you picked me because I was close and… and convenient.”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching firmly. “I chose you for you, Emma Carson. For your character, your compassion, your capacity to love. I chose you because there’s no one else in this whole fucking world I can see myself raising a child with.”

I breathe out slowly, captivated by his words, by the look in his eyes.

And somehow, that changes everything.