Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)
: Chapter 66

I thought seeing her at the bottom of those stairs was bad.

I was wrong.

Watching her fall apart is worse.

Especially because she doesn’t fall apart like she needs to. All messy tears and furious denials and angry conversations with God. No—she recedes into herself as though she’s ashamed of her pain.

She barely meets my eyes. She barely smiles and sleepwalks through every conversation.

I understand why. She needs to put on a brave face for the kids. But every time she has to pretend like she’s okay, I know how much it’s costing her.

Which is probably why she kicked me out right after we returned from the park outing. “I’m fine. I just need rest, Ruslan. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She repeated those two cursed fucking words way too many times for me to believe them.

Now, I’ve somehow ended up back in the penthouse on 48^th, buried deep in a bottle of my finest gin. I’m dangerously close to being drunk right now but it’s been a while since I’ve indulged like this. I figure I’m allowed.

I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating when I see Kirill walk in and do a double-take.

“Brother?”

Not a hallucination. Dammit.

“I forgot I gave you the access code to this place.”

Kirill’s eyes narrow. “I’ve been trying to contact you all night.”

I shrug. “Haven’t been… looking.”

“Jesus, man, are you drunk?”

I scowl, contemplating throwing the almost empty bottle of gin at him. “I don’t appreciate the judgment.”

Kirill sits down heavily next to me. “It was Remmy. He was the one who got into an altercation with Emma. He didn’t push her down the stairs—she pushed him; he just took her down with him.”

I squint hard until all three versions of Kirill refocus into one. “Okay.” I get to my feet, wobble, right myself. “He just signed his death warrant.”

Kirill blocks my path with a hand to my chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Gonna go find the motherfucker. Then I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re in no fit state to leave this apartment.”

“Who’s the pahkan here?” I growl.

Kirill doesn’t move. He grabs the mostly-empty bottle of gin that I’d forgotten I was holding. “How fast did you get through this bottle?”

“Who the hell do you think you are? My father?”

“Okay, pause. Can we rewind for a second?” He takes a deep breath. “What the fuck happened?”

“I really need to change that stupid access code again. This is supposed to be my fortress of solitude,” I mumble through fat, uncooperative lips.

He cocks an eyebrow and gestures for me to sit down. “It’s not. This was your fuckpad. Most recently, it’s been your Emma pad.”

At the sound of her name, my knees buckle and I collapse on the sofa so hard that I’m pretty sure I hear some of the springs break. Kirill perches on the coffee table in front of me.

“Brother…” He sighs. “Talk to me.”

So I tell him. About the ultrasound and the doctor’s revelation. About Emma’s reaction to all of it. By the time I’m finished, I’m fiending for another bottle of gin. Kirill seems to know exactly what I’m thinking, because he tucks the bottle behind him.

Little shit.

“I’m sorry, sobrat,” he says quietly.

I look away from him. “It is what it is.”

“So the chances of you having a baby with Emma are slim?”

“Slim to none, according to Dr. Dead-in-the-Eyes. Yes.”

Kirill balances his elbows on his knees. “And if it turns out that you can’t have a baby with Emma… what then?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the next step?”

I have no idea what exactly he’s asking me. But it forces me to think about the next step. If Emma and I can’t have a baby together—what then?

I need an heir. And if she can’t give me one…

“It won’t change a fucking thing,” I croak.

Kirill’s eyebrows rise. “But you need an—”

“The kid is strong. And capable. And smart. He’s already got the makings of a great leader. It won’t take much to mold him into a great pahkan…”

Kirill rubs his temples in confusion. “What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?”

My eyes lock on him. “Josh. I’m talking about Josh. I could make him my heir.” Kirill’s jaw drops, but I’m flying too high with this idea to care. “He’s a good kid. They all are. And they deserve more than the shithead of a father they’ve got. Emma’s trying to strip Ben of his rights. I could help her adopt them. Fuck—I could adopt them myself. It would lend legitimacy to Josh’s appointment. And then—”

“Ruslan. Stop.”

Kirill’s voice is soft but earnest. I hear that tone so rarely that I’m forced to stop for a moment and listen. All that gin is making it a little difficult, though.

“This is a big decision. One that affects more than just you. You’re gonna need to think about it. Preferably while sober.”

I wave away his concerns. “There have been worse marriages of convenience, Kirill—”

“Oh, are we talking about marriage now?” he scoffs. “I thought that was off the table.”

“It’s for appearances’ sake,” I snap impatiently. “If I’m making Josh my heir, then adopting him makes sense. Marrying his mother makes sense. It’s pragmatic. I’m being fucking pragmatic.”

Why doesn’t he see how fucking perfect this is? Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I like her and I respect her. I care about those kids. I can take care of all of them. And I know Emma will agree—”

“Of course she’ll agree!” Kirill cries out, throwing his hands up. “She’s in love with you.” He leans in a little closer, his voice dipping low with urgency. “Ruslan, you can talk about convenience and practicality all you want—but feelings don’t give a fuck about pragmatism.”

I sit back, head spinning. “We have a contract.”

Kirill exhales wearily like he’s exhausted of my bullshit. “That contract means jack shit, man. It’s just a paper shield to protect your heart. To try to keep her out of it. But guess what? It’s too late for that.”

I’m feeling a lot more sober than I was a few minutes ago.

And that’s not necessarily a good thing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when are you going to cut the bullshit and admit to yourself that you’re in love with Emma, too?”

I grit my teeth. “If you were anyone else, I’d punch the fucking teeth from your head.”

He smiles cheekily. “Luckily for me, I’m not anyone else. I’m the man who’s been at your side from the very beginning. I know you, Ruslan.”

I shake my head. “I can’t be in love with her, man. I just… I fucking can’t…”

“Because of your contract?” I narrow my eyes at him and he chuckles. “Let me ask you this; if Emma decided to walk out of your life today, would you fight for her or would you let her go?”

I open my mouth. A second later—I shut it.

I run a hand through my hair.

I breathe out sharply.

“Fuuuck!”

Kirill smiles. “Yeah. I thought so.”

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