Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

He’s sitting on the chair by the window, his features twisted up with melancholy. At least I think it’s melancholy. I might just be projecting. My mood feels a little bit like a sinkhole. The more I try to snap out of it, the deeper I fall in.

I watch him for a few minutes before he realizes I’m awake. He’s so damn beautiful—all the more so now that I know the kind of man that hides behind that steely exterior.

The kind of man who cares enough about an eight-year-old boy to help him overcome his anger issues.

The kind of man who takes two little girls out to ice cream because their own father can’t be bothered.

The kind of man who takes care of a broken woman because she clearly can’t take care of herself.

His gaze flickers to me. “You’re awake.”

I nod and force myself upright.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Breakfast will help.”

Just the thought of eating makes me want to throw up. As does the thought of staying in this apartment any longer. It’s too big a reminder of everything I can’t do, everything I’m in the process of losing.

“I need to get home.”

He doesn’t argue. He probably wants to get me back home himself. Playing nurse really doesn’t seem like Ruslan’s style. And yet, as with everything else, he does it so well. He carries me to the bathroom despite my protests; he helps me get dressed; he even insists that I eat an apple before we leave.

I’m expecting the SUV to come to take us to Hell’s Kitchen, but Ruslan ends up driving himself. The whole ride is marked by a heavy silence that I don’t have the strength to break. I just sit there, wrapped up in a pair of sweats and one of Ruslan’s sweaters. I have half a mind to pull the hood up so that I can hide beneath it.

I want to disappear.

When Ruslan parks, I stare up at the window of my apartment as a new sense of dread settles in. It’s a Saturday, which means the kids will be at home all day.

I can’t do this…

“Emma, are you okay?”

“Fine,” I mumble without looking at him.

He doesn’t try to touch me and for that, I’m grateful. I’m tired of being a charity case. And he’s already done enough.

First, it was clearing my debt. Then it was giving me a lifeline in the form of the contract. After that came taking care of the kids, putting up with my family drama, fixing the car, dealing with Ben… The list goes on and on.

“Emma.”

I clear my throat. “I should go in.”

He’s already at my door by the time I manage to get it open. He helps me down from the car and supports my weight all the way up to the apartment, no matter how many times I insist that I’m fine, that I can do it myself, that he doesn’t have to come with me.

When we get closer, I can hear the girls’ soft chatter, Phoebe’s loud laugh. They’re all in the living room.

Might as well get it over with.

The moment we walk inside, everyone freezes. Phoebe unfolds to her feet slowly, her eyes focused on my bruises. “Em? What happened?”

I manage to force a smile for the kids’ sake. “I just had a little accident last night. Slipped and fell down the stairs.” Josh sidles closer to me while the girls just gawk at the bandage on my head. “I’m fine, though. Totally fine.”

God, I sound fake.

Phoebe’s gaze veers from me to Ruslan but she doesn’t say anything. Caroline drags her feet a little closer. “Does it hurt, Auntie Em?”

Everything hurts.

“No, sweetheart,” I say cheerily. “I just need some rest. That’s all.”

“I know what will make you feel better, Aunt Em!” Reagan says enthusiastically. “A hug!”

She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes tight. Caroline does the same and Josh puts his hand against my arm. I can feel the tears well up without warning. Oh, God. Another minute and I’m going to be bawling all over all the children.

Keep it together, Emma. Keep it the fuck toge—

“Kids.” Ruslan’s doing a much better job than I am of pretending everything’s alright. “Your aunt needs some peace and quiet right now. How about I take you guys to the park for a couple of hours? Maybe we can get lunch afterwards.”

“And ice cream?!” Reagan asks excitedly.

Ruslan spreads his hands wide like the answer is obvious. “What would the weekend be without ice cream?”

With the promise of sweets on the horizon, the girls release me and run to get their shoes on. I swallow my tears and plant a kiss on Josh’s head to stop him staring at me. He’s not as easily distracted as his sisters.

“I’m okay,” I whisper to him. “Have fun with Ruslan.”

When he goes to grab his shoes, I meet Ruslan’s eyes for perhaps the first time all morning. “Thank you,” I mouth to him.

He doesn’t say a word. Just grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s the softest of touches and it only lasts a moment. Fleeting enough that, once he and the kids have waved goodbye and walked out of the apartment, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

“Emma…” Phoebe’s hand strokes my back.

I turn around, throw my arms around her, and start sobbing hysterically. She doesn’t say a word. She just lets me cry. She holds onto me the entire time as I completely fall apart and she does the kindness of simply letting me.

At some point, we end up on the couch with a box of tissues clutched in my lap and eventually, the tears dry up.

But the heaviness on my chest persists. Pheebs doesn’t ask me a thing. She waits until I’m ready to talk. But when I finally open up, I can tell her only parts. The club, the fall, the possibility that someone I can’t remember pushed me down that staircase.

It’s a horrible story, but it all pales in comparison to what I really lost last night—the chance at a family of my own. The chance to be a mother.

The chance to give Ruslan what he wants.

“Emma, I know this is hard, but you still have one functioning fallopian tube. You could still get pregnant, if that’s what you really wanted.”

I shake my head. “It’s gonna be so hard now. And it might take a very long time. I let him down, Phoebe. After everything he’s done for me, I’m letting him down.”

Frowning, she squeezes my arm. “Hey now, none of that. I’m sure Ruslan is disappointed, too, but that’s not gonna change anything between the two of you.”

I desperately wish I could tell her about the contract. It’s hard to explain this situation to anyone who doesn’t know the stakes.

“I’m afraid it will.”

“Emma, I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Phoebe says gently. “You’re not just the woman he’s sleeping with. You’re his. That’s how he looks at you.”

“He deserves better.”

Phoebe’s mouth turns down at the corners. She looks angry now. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think—”

“It’s true. From the beginning, it’s been one thing after another. I’m a fucking mess, Phoebe. All I’ve come with is debts and grief and bills. A dead sister, a nightmare brother-in-law, three dependents, and now, a defective fallopian tube.”

Her voice gets really soft. “Sweetheart, you are so much more than your problems. You have got to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

I grab a pillow and bury my face in it. I take a couple of deep breaths, then steel myself. “You’re right. The kids will be back soon and I need to be strong for them.”

Phoebe frowns. “No, that’s not what I—”

“I might as well put all my focus and energy on the three of them. They’re the only children I’m ever gonna have.”

I ignore Phoebe’s sigh and mope towards my bedroom. As grateful as I am for her company, what I really need right now is to be alone.