Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

“You’re so… big.”

“Like a giant.”

I assumed they were twins from the window. But now that I’m looking right at them, I realize that the one with a missing front tooth must be younger. With her dark blonde hair, round apple cheeks, and prominent dimples, it’s hard not to smile just looking at her. Her sister is maybe an inch taller, slightly skinnier, with just as much energy.

“Reagan! Caroline! That’s not polite,” Emma scolds.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t strange to see her in her mother mode. She’s rushing around the living room, trying to subtly clean up without looking like that’s what she’s doing. She shoves a dirty t-shirt underneath one of the cushions on the armchair when she thinks I’m not looking.

The boy, Josh, is sitting opposite me. His eyes haven’t left my face since I walked in. I’ve made enough grown men piss their pants to know that looking me dead in the eye is no easy feat—just ask Remmy. And yet here he is, all of eight years old, staring back at me as though he’s ready to take me down if I make so much as one wrong move toward the women in his family.

He’s definitely a leader in the making.

“What did you say to the man?” he asks.

“Josh,” Emma chides gently, “maybe now’s not the time?” She glances pointedly at the girls, both of whom are still fixated on me.

Reagan wriggles out of her brother’s reach and plops down on the coffee table in front of me. “Why are you wearing that?”

I look down at my Hugo Boss suit. “This is what I wear to work. You don’t like it?”

She cocks her head to the side and thinks about it. “It’s… too much.”

“Reagan!”

I grin. It’s quite entertaining seeing Emma this flustered. She still hasn’t sat down.

“I like your suit,” Caroline offers as a shy blush creeps up her cheeks. “And your tattoos.” Apparently, she’s spotted my neck tattoo, judging from the direction of her gaze.

“Kiddos!” The nanny calls from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

Emma kicks a lumpy thing under the sofa. “Go on, guys.”

Caroline’s upper lip juts out as she turns to me. “Are you coming for dinner? I don’t mind sharing.”

I smile at the selfless offer. “Thanks, Caroline, but I’ll have to come back another time.”

“Oh.” Her mouth turns down at the corners. “Okay.”

Emma comes up behind the girls and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “Go on. I’ll be right in.”

“Auntie Em, can you help me wash my hands?”

“Reagan, you already know how to wash your hands.”

“But I want you to do it. You’re never home for dinner. Please? Pretty please?”

Emma’s face breaks into a tired smile. “Of course I’ll help.” She sneaks me an apologetic glance and ducks into the kitchen with both girls trailing behind her.

Josh, however, stays exactly where he is. When I get to my feet, so does he.

“The reporter agreed that he will leave you guys alone,” I remind him. “You have nothing to worry about anymore.”

Josh frowns as he sticks his hands into the pockets of his pants. They’re way too small for him. His ankles should definitely not be on display. It doesn’t take a lot to notice that as cozy as this apartment is, it’s also on the verge of crumbling.

The carpets are threadbare and stained. The upholstery is barely hanging on. The coffee table is propped up on makeshift coasters to keep it level and one wall is gradually losing a fight against an encroaching water stain. None of it can possibly be healthy for Emma or the children.

“Thank you,” he says, so quietly that I barely hear him. Josh shifts in place for a moment as his eyes drop down. He gets a steely sheen in them as he mumbles, “One day, I’m gonna be big enough to protect them myself.”

I don’t do him the indignity of smiling or talking down to him. I just nod. Solemn. Man to man. “I know you will.”

Funny enough, I actually do believe him.

He nods. Then his gaze veers to the side and he starts with surprise. I follow his eyes to find Emma standing by the doorway, tears in her eyes.

She swallows hard and clears her throat. She’s about to say something when the girls run back into the living room.

“You’re still here? Are you staying for dinner?” Caroline asks, grabbing my hand and pulling on it.

“Yeah!” the little one shouts, imitating her sister and grabbing my free hand. “Stay for dinner!”

Emma’s soft voice manages to cut through the clamor. “You can, you know. If you want.”

“Thank you, ladies, but I have a late evening meeting I need to get to.”

The girls let out a long, disappointed chorus of, “Awww.”

Emma claps her hands. “Okay, guys, let’s give Mr. Oryolov some breathing room. Come on, dinner’s gonna get cold.”

She gestures for them to come, but none of them bother looking at her. I squat down in front of the two girls. “You know how I got to be as big as I am?” I chuckle when both their heads bob excitedly. “I ate my dinner. Vegetables and all.”

Reagan scrunches up her nose. “Ew! Even the brock-lee?”

“Especially the broccoli.”

She looks severely disappointed in me. “Aw, man.”

I muss up her downy golden mop and she giggles. Caroline glances shyly at me, so I offer her a low-five. She gives my palm a hearty whack and then scampers off to hide behind Emma.

One look at Emma’s face and I know I need to get the fuck out of this house. She’s staring at me with this look in her eye—all soft and tender and sentimental.

Hell no. She’s got it all wrong. I’m not this guy. I’m not a family man. I don’t like to spend my evenings with a bunch of screaming kids.

And yet… that’s exactly what I’ve done for the last half hour, and honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. In fact, a part of me actually enjoyed it.

No. That’s not the right word. It can’t be the right fucking word.

Abort. Get the fuck out! Now!

“Goodnight.”

Emma gives the girls a little shove into the kitchen. “You guys get started. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Caroline’s pout is strong. “But Auntie Em, why do you get to stay with him and we don’t?”

Josh shushes his sister and shepherds them out of the living room.

Emma chuckles self-consciously as she walks over to me, an attractive blush turning her cheeks pink. “Sorry about all that.”

I nod stiffly. “All good.”

“You were really great with all of them.” Her voice wobbles with all the things she’s not saying. “Thank you for being so patient with the girls. And for what you said to Josh.”

I nod again. This time, more from discomfort than anything else.

She clears her throat. “So what happened with Remmy?”

“He won’t be bothering you or the kids again.”

“Okay—but what about you?”

That takes me aback. “Me?”

“He was looking for dirt on you. He mentioned that he knew a lot already.” She glances back over her shoulder before moving even closer to me. Close enough that I can smell her perfume.

Citrus, honey, and danger.

“I just…” She gnaws at her lip. “I know there are things that you might not want getting out there. I’m worried that Remmy might make good on his threats. He just seemed really determined.”

She’s genuinely worried about me. After basically being my errand girl the last year and a half. It’s enough to boggle my mind…

And arouse the rest of me.

I take a step back. “Don’t worry about me. You have your own shit to deal with.” She flushes, but she doesn’t look angry. “In fact, I’m canceling our meeting tonight.”

“What? Why?”

The disappointment in her face reinforces my need to put some distance between us. Especially tonight. Today has been a little too involved.

“Missed a lot today. I need to catch up.”

“Right.” She forces a stiff smile onto her face. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

I nod. “Goodnight, Ms. Carson.”

On my way out, I notice the shoe rack sitting next to the entrance door. Not one pair is even halfway presentable. One set of basketball shoes in particular looks to have been taped up under the soles time and time again.

I stop and think.

She desperately needed my contract. Which is probably the only reason she agreed to it in the first place. That was fine back then—leverage is leverage, after all. But now that I’ve been here, reflecting back on that tidbit leaves me feeling fucking strange.

I’m assuming I’ll feel better outside of her presence, but those citrus notes stay with me long after I’ve descended the stairs and stepped back out into the funk and mayhem of the city. Before I drive back home, I send Kirill one last directive for the night.

I want a background check run on Emma’s brother-in-law.

I’m just doing my due diligence. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing that means a damn thing.