CRUEL PROMISE

ORYOLOV BRATVA
BOOK 2

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NICOLE FOX

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Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Fox
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 CONTENTS

Mailing List
Also by Nicole Fox
Cruel Promise

1. Emma
2. Ruslan
3. Emma
4. Emma
5. Emma
6. Ruslan
7. Ruslan
8. Emma
9. Emma
10. Emma
11. Emma
12. Ruslan
13. Emma
14. Emma
15. Ruslan
16. Ruslan
17. Emma
18. Ruslan
19. Emma
20. Ruslan
21. Emma
22. Emma
23. Ruslan
24. Emma
25. Emma
26. Ruslan
27. Ruslan
28. Emma
29. Ruslan
30. Ruslan
31. Ruslan
32. Emma
33. Emma
34. Ruslan
35. Emma
36. Emma
37. Ruslan
38. Emma
39. Emma
40. Ruslan
41. Ruslan
42. Emma
43. Emma
44. Ruslan
45. Ruslan
46. Ruslan
47. Ruslan
48. Emma
49. Ruslan
50. Emma
51. Emma
52. Ruslan
53. Emma
54. Emma
55. Ruslan
56. Emma
57. Ruslan
58. Ruslan

Epilogue: Emma
Extended Epilogue: Ruslan

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ALSO BY NICOLE FOX

Pushkin Bratva
Cognac Villain
Cognac Vixen

Viktorov Bratva
Whiskey Poison
Whiskey Pain

Orlov Bratva
Champagne Venom
Champagne Wrath

Uvarov Bratva
Sapphire Scars
Sapphire Tears

Vlasov Bratva
Arrogant Monster
Arrogant Mistake

Zhukova Bratva
Tarnished Tyrant
Tarnished Queen

Stepanov Bratva
Satin Sinner
Satin Princess

Makarova Bratva
Shattered Altar
Shattered Cradle
 Solovev Bratva
Ravaged Crown
Ravaged Throne

Vorobev Bratva
Velvet Devil
Velvet Angel

Romanoff Bratva
Immaculate Deception
Immaculate Corruption

Kovalyov Bratva
Gilded Cage
Gilded Tears
Jaded Soul
Jaded Devil
Ripped Veil
Ripped Lace

Mazzeo Mafia Duet

Liar’s Lullaby (Book 1)
Sinner’s Lullaby (Book 2)

Bratva Crime Syndicate

*Can be read in any order!
Lies He Told Me
Scars He Gave Me
Sins He Taught Me

Belluci Mafia Trilogy

Corrupted Angel (Book 1)
Corrupted Queen (Book 2)
Corrupted Empire (Book 3)

De Maggio Mafia Duet

 Devil in a Suit (Book 1)
Devil at the Altar (Book 2)

Kornilov Bratva Duet

Married to the Don (Book 1)
Til Death Do Us Part (Book 2)

Heirs to the Bratva Empire

*Can be read in any order!
Kostya
Maksim
Andrei

Princes of Ravenlake Academy (Bully Romance)

*Can be read as standalones!
Cruel Prep
Cruel Academy
Cruel Elite

Tsezar Bratva
Nightfall (Book 1)
Daybreak (Book 2)

Russian Crime Brotherhood

*Can be read in any order!
Owned by the Mob Boss
Unprotected with the Mob Boss
Knocked Up by the Mob Boss
Sold to the Mob Boss
Stolen by the Mob Boss
Trapped with the Mob Boss

Volkov Bratva
Broken Vows (Book 1)
Broken Hope (Book 2)
Broken Sins (standalone)
 Other Standalones
Vin: A Mafia Romance

Box Sets
Bratva Mob Bosses (Russian Crime Brotherhood Books 1-6)
Tsezar Bratva (Tsezar Bratva Duet Books 1-2)
Heirs to the Bratva Empire
The Mafia Dons Collection
The Don’s Corruption

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CRUEL PROMISE

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 BOOK TWO OF THE ORYOLOV BRATVA DUET

It started with an accidental dirty voicemail.

It ended with my boss’s baby in my belly.

One butt dial changed my life forever.

Ruslan Oryolov went from boss to baby daddy in the blink of an eye.
But other stuff changed along the way, too.
I learned who Ruslan is—who he REALLY is.
I learned that the children I’ve come to love as my own can’t stay in this
city anymore.
I’ve learned that none of us can.

So we’re running.
But of course, Ruslan won’t let us go that easily.
And when he learns about what I’m taking from him—the baby in my belly
—he makes me a promise.
A very, very cruel promise.
No matter where you go… No matter how far or how fast you flee…
I will always find you.

CRUEL PROMISE is Book Two of the Oryolov Bratva duet. Ruslan and
Emma’s story begins in Book One, CRUEL PARADISE.

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 1

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 EMMA

I’m compiling a comprehensive mental list of all the things you shouldn’t
do when you’re on the run from a violent mob boss. Note that these rules
are especially important when you have three kids in tow, including an
impatient six-year-old and her very loud five-year-old sister, all while
looking like an Egyptian mummy because you’re wrapped from head to toe
in gauze to cover up the thousand and one bleeding cuts you got when your
deadbeat brother-in-law pushed you through a glass coffee table.
Rule number one: don’t tell the five-year-old you’re leaving town on an
adventure. Because she will tell every single person she makes eye contact
with.
Rule number two: don’t call your best friend and admit to all the secrets
you’ve been keeping from her for the last six months. Because she will
freak the hell out and threaten to call the cops.
Rule number three: don’t bring all three kids to Walmart to buy the
emergency supplies you need to tide you over on this great escape. Kids
have no sense of what constitutes an emergency and they will try to buy
unicorn Snuggies, light-up Slinkies, and their bodyweight’s worth of Pop-
Tarts.
So far, I’ve broken all three rules. This little “adventure” is off to a great
start.
“Caro, Rae, for the last time, you can’t buy—”
“Excuse me, hon?” someone says. I jerk around, totally rattled by the
unfamiliar hand on my shoulder. He flinches off me. “Whoa there. Just
sayin’ hello, darling. No need to fret.”
I squint at the man standing next to my loaded cart. I may have gone a little
overboard with the supplies. It’s stuffed to the brim with toiletries, sleeping
bags, canned foods, extra clothes for each of the kids, a flashlight and a
backup flashlight…
I just wanted to be prepared. Then again, can you ever be prepared to
uproot your entire life? Your kids’ lives?
“Uh, yeah, hi, hello,” I say distractedly. I scan the surrounding area. I’m
currently standing in the dried foods aisle, but two of my three wards are
nowhere to be found. “Josh! Where are your sisters?”
My eight-year-old points towards the next aisle. “Over there. I’ll get them.”
Before I can tell him to stay put, he’s gone, too.
Great.
Now, I’ve lost all three.
And apparently, I have an audience. The man who startled me is still there,
standing by my cart, looking shamelessly at its contents. “Looks like you’ve
got half the store in there,” he chuckles, scratching at his thin brown beard.
I force a smile. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He puts his hand on the handle of my cart. “Miss, do you need some help?”
My heartbeat kicks up a notch. What if this guy works for Ruslan? Does he
look like mafia or Bratva or whatever the hell Ruslan calls himself? Is he
dangerous?
He’s certainly large enough to do some damage. And he’s got those sharp
eyes. Dangerous eyes. Although, come to think of it, I didn’t exactly listen
to my better instincts last time I came into contact with a certain pair of
dangerous amber eyes.
It’s kinda how I got in this whole mess to begin with.
“I don’t need any help. But thank you for asking.” I try to push my cart
down the aisle but he doesn’t remove his hand and the wheels squeal in
protest.
I turn to him warily but he gives me only a sympathetic smile. “It’s just that
I would never forgive myself if I didn’t help someone in your position.”
“Oh, that’s kind of you. But it’s really not necessary.”
He leans in a little closer and the scent of tuna hits me like a truck in the
night. Oh, yuck. My eyes start watering.
“You really shouldn’t be out in your condition. With three kids, no less.”
Speaking of—where the hell are they? “You should be at home with your
feet up while someone else does all the heavy lifting.”
“Trust me: if I had someone else, I would absolutely be home with my feet
up.”
Or if I had a home to do that at.
The man’s eyebrows rise. He’s got bushy ones to match his mustache. “So
no husband? A boyfriend, maybe? A gal-friend?”
Alrighty. I wasn’t a fan of this conversation even before he asked about my
relationship status. I’m certainly not up for it now.
“I really should be going.”
I rip the cart out from underneath his hand and pray that he doesn’t follow
me. I hustle into the next aisle and spot Josh at the end of it with the girls
holding each of his hands. Gritting my teeth, I beeline straight for them.
“Guys. We had a deal. I agreed to bring you because you all promised me
you would listen and never leave my side, remember?”
Reagan and Caroline exchange a glance. “Actually,” Caroline says, tossing
her hair over her shoulder, “you only brought us because Aunt Phoebe
couldn’t get off work and that motel is scary.”
“Super-duper scary!” Reagan chirps.
I can’t exactly blame them. That godawful motel scares the shit out of me,
too, and I’m almost twenty-seven years old. But it was the cheapest and
most remote hideout that Phoebe could find for us on short notice.
“Yes, yes, I know. But please, can we listen to Auntie Em anyway?” I beg.
“Can we stay by my side? Pretty please?”
Reagan and Caroline giggle. “Okaaay.”
I give their heads a nervous tousle and then gesture for them to follow me
towards the checkout counters. I scan the crowds as I step up to the cashier.
I can’t see Mr. Tuna Breath anymore. Thank God for that. But every time I
glance at the kids, I also catch Josh staring at me. I give him what I hope is
a reassuring wink but he doesn’t so much as crack a smile.
“Hey,” I whisper while the girls bicker about something or the other. “Don’t
look so worried, J. This is gonna be an adventure.”
He frowns. “I’m not five, Aunt Em. That’s not gonna work on me.”
I sigh. “Kiddo, I know this isn’t ideal—” I give the cashier a tight smile and
start loading the conveyor belt with our stuff. “—but it’s necessary. You
know that, right?”
He nods stiffly. “Yeah, but I don’t get why we can’t just call Ruslan and ask
him for help. He would help us.”
Every time one of them mentions his name, it feels like a knife to my heart.
Or a glass shard in my thigh. Turns out, the two feelings are extremely
similar. I would know.
“We’re gonna have to do this without Ruslan, buddy.”
“But why?”
Because he hates my fucking guts now and he didn’t care about me enough
to want to hear my side of the story.
“It’s complicated.”
“I hate when grown-ups say that.”
I run a frustrated hand down the side of my face. “Yeah. I felt the same way
once.”
We manage to get through the checkout and then I herd the kids up and
order them to form a straight line beside me. “Like ducklings. We’re gonna
walk fast, okay?”
“Do we have to go back to that place?” Reagan whines. She’s using those
big blue eyes of hers to maximum effect.
“‘Fraid so, Rae-Rae. But we won’t be there for long. Now, come on.”
As we leave the store, I have this weird sense that we’re being watched. Mr.
Tuna Breath again, maybe? But when I glance back over my shoulder, I
don’t see him or anyone else that seems remotely interested in us.
It’s just the paranoia talking, Emma. Be cool. We’re almost outta here.
Once we’ve got all our goodies stuffed in the trunk of the car, I have to
strap the girls into their car seats. “Josh, stay close, okay?”
I hate that I have to turn my back on him to help the girls with their
seatbelts. “I’m almost done, Josh. Then you can get—”
The screech of tires sends my panic meter blasting off the charts. No one
should be driving that fast in a Walmart parking lot. I back out of the car,
ass first. “Josh!”
My feet hit the concrete and I whirl around to grab him, except—
He’s not there.
He’s standing a few feet away from me, transfixed by the black sedan with
dirty windows screeching down the lot towards us.
The sedan screams to a halt right in front of him. Josh’s face is on the cusp
of a smile. A smile? Why on Earth would he be smil—
Oh, God—he thinks it’s Ruslan.
He’s not stupid or reckless. So there’s no other explanation for why he
would move towards the reckless vehicle with that distant, hopeful look on
his face.
The side door flings open and a man appears. A man with a black mask
obscuring his features. I see it all in slow motion as Josh realizes something
is wrong. He throws himself backward, but it’s too late.
The man grabs him by the shoulders.
Hauls him into the darkened interior of the car.
And the door slams shut.
I beg my legs to move faster but by the time I reach the vehicle, the locks
are thrown and the wheels are beginning to squeal. I pound my fists against
the dark glass, even as the wheels spin fast and the machine lurches away.
“No! Josh! JOSH!”
A tiny fishtail of the rear bumper knocks me sideways and sends me
tumbling onto my ass. I hit hard, hard enough for the glass cuts to reopen in
a hundred little lines of pain, but I don’t have time to sit and cower. I’m on
my feet again immediately, leaping into the driver’s seat of my car and
tearing out of the parking spot as fast as I can.
The girls are squealing in terror, but I can’t tend to them right now. I have to
get Josh back.
I swerve out of the parking lot and the girls scream again in unison. “It’s
okay, girls. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”
The truth is I’m just spitting words at them. But even tried and tested words
of comfort don’t cut it when you’re speeding through the streets, horns
blaring, tires smoking, every bump in the road sending us careening left and
right and left again.
“Auntie Em! Slow down!” Caroline screams.
“You forgot Josh!” Reagan cries. “You forgot Josh!”
I have eyes on the sedan. Of course it doesn’t have a license plate. Fucking
bastards. This has to be Mr. Tuna Breath’s doing. That run-in was too
fucking weird to be coincidental.
“Auntie Em! What are you doing?” Caroline screams when I swerve to
avoid oncoming traffic.
What am I doing? Who the fuck do I think I am—Jason Bourne?
I need help.
I don’t have time to let that sink in. The sedan is moving fast and if I blink,
I could lose them. My first instinct is to call 911 but my hand is shaking
when I pick up my phone. Another pothole makes my thumb pull up the
speed dial menu instead of the keypad.
“Fuck!”
I drop my phone as the car in front of me slows down and I have to wiggle
around him fast. Thankfully, it’s ringing and, since my phone is connected
to Bluetooth, I’m able to transfer the call to speakerphone from the steering
wheel.
The only problem is I didn’t dial 911.
I accidentally dialed Ruslan Oryolov.
“Emma.”
That deep, confident voice is bringing back all sorts of terrible memories.
Stop—this isn’t about you.
I don’t want him knowing that I’m leaving town.
I don’t want him knowing that I’m pregnant, either.
But I do want my nephew back. And if Ruslan can get Josh back safe—then
so be it.
“Someone just took Josh!” I gasp. “I’m not sure who it was. He was
masked. They’re driving a black sedan with no license plate number. I…
I… oh, God—” A sob bursts out of my lips at the same time that Reagan
and Caroline start crying. “I-I lost them. I lost the car. I don’t know which
way they went.”
His voice comes through loud and clear. Chillingly calm and extremely
confident. “Send me your location right now.”
I breathe out, more of a sob than an exhale.
“Listen to me, kiska: we’re going to get him back.”

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 2

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 RUSLAN

“I want two teams on this!” I roar. “Three, four, ten, I don’t give a fuck
what it takes—I want as many fucking teams out there as it takes to get Josh
back.”
Kirill’s already on his phone, calling in the cavalry. I’m storming towards
the elevator doors, trying to keep my anger from getting the better of me.
Two junior execs approach the elevator just as the doors are about to close.
“OUT!” I yell and they spring back. Kirill slips in behind me and we
plummet towards the ground floor.
“Well?” I demand when he hangs up.
“I’ve got three teams heading in Emma’s direction now. They’re going in
from different routes so they’ll be able to box the kidnappers in. We’ll find
him, sobrat; I swear it.”
I know he’s being confident for my sake, but this is still New York City.
We’re looking for a needle in a haystack.
I’ll take those fucking odds.
“Why?” I growl as we rush to my SUV. “Why the fuck would anyone take
the boy?”
Kirill takes the passenger seat as I get behind the wheel. “Well, he is the one
kid you’ve spent a lot of quality time with lately.”
My second-in-command is right. All those boxing lessons at the gym… I
was a fool to think those moments would go unnoticed. Nothing I did is
ever innocent where my enemies are concerned.
“FUCK!” I spit, furious with my own short-sightedness. “If anything
happens to—”
“Nothing will happen to him,” Kirill insists. “We’re going to get him back
long before anything happens.”
“Keep your eye on Emma’s location. The kidnappers can’t be too far from
her. And get Emma back on the phone.”
He nods and does as I say. The ringtone grates on my eardrums, but her
voice when she answers is like honey. “K-Kirill?”
“Ruslan’s here, too,” my second explains. “You’re on speakerphone. Where
are you exactly?”
She names the cross streets in a shaky tremor. “Pretty sure I caught sight of
the black car a second ago but I can’t be sure.”
I can hear soft sniffling in the back. Blyat’. “Are the girls with you?”
“I couldn’t exactly leave them in the Walmart parking lot.” Before I can rip
into her about putting herself in this situation in the first place, Emma
gasps. “I see them! The black car with the dirty windows! They just turned
down toward the interstate.”
I veer between cars and catch sight of the target. No license plate. Bingo. “I
see them.”
“Ruslan—get him back,” Emma begs. “I just want him back safe.”
“Kirill,” I growl, hitting the accelerator. “Hang up.”
The line goes dead and the lights turn red. I come up next to the black
sedan, staying far enough behind them that the front of my SUV is in line
with the back of their car. The kidnappers have no idea that I’m right beside
them.
But Josh does.
His eyes go wide when he catches sight of me. I put a finger to my lips and
he nods.
Smart kid.
I tap at my own seatbelt, indicating to Josh to put his on. He nods once and,
immediately afterward, the light changes and the sedan speeds off.
I pursue. Kirill’s eyes veer towards me. “Do you have a plan?”
“I always have a plan. This one just happens to be somewhat
unconventional.
“Fuck me.” Kirill leans towards the dash. “He just picked up speed. I think
they know they’re being followed.”
Clenching my jaw, I steer into a bylane that I know connects back up with
the main road. Kirill grabs the edges of his seat as I commit a dozen
different traffic violations to make this little detour.
“Yup,” Kirill confirms. “They definitely know we’re on their tail.”
I swipe the side mirrors as I cram the SUV down a narrow alley that’s
definitely not meant for cars this big. By my calculation, the black sedan
will be coming up soon. Which means I have roughly a two-second window
to make my move. The timing has to be perfect. A millisecond too late and
I could be crashing into the back of the car where Josh is.
“Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”
I don’t answer; I’m too busy stomping on the gas. Kirill braces himself. The
sedan should be whizzing by right about—
“Fucking HELL!” Kirill yells as I explode out of the mouth of the alleyway
and right into the sedan.
The driver turns to me a second before the nose of my SUV makes contact
with the side of his door. His eyes are wide with terror—and the knowledge
that there’s not a single fucking thing he can do but get hit.
Glass explodes inward and the shriek of twisting metal tears through the air.
The sedan spins out of control until it’s stopped by a stubborn fire hydrant
that rips off half of the hood, leaving engine parts spilling out like guts and
leaking oil like blood.
Smoke billows softly as Kirill and I jump out of the SUV and run to the
sedan. “Secure those fuckers,” I order Kirill. “I’ll get Josh.”
I’m halfway there when I notice someone else running towards the wreck,
her long curtain of hair transporting me, for just a split moment, to a time
when I was actually happy.
Emma.
“Josh!” she screams in unadulterated panic. “JOSH!” I grab her before she
can get to the wreck but she looks right through me. “No! Let me go. You
crashed into them!”
I twist her around by her shoulders so that she can’t see the wreck. “I will
make sure he’s okay. But right now, it’s not safe for you to leave the girls.
Go!”
It’s annoying that, even now, my first instinct is to protect her. Mine, the
beast inside me roars.
No. Fucking no. She’s not mine anymore.
She never truly was.
I give her a light shove backwards and race to the sedan. When I pull open
the back passenger door, Josh has curled himself into an upright ball, the
seatbelt strapped over his chest.
Instant relief.
“Ruslan!” he cries.
He thrashes against the destroyed seatbelt. I lean in, unsheathe my
pocketknife, and saw at it until it pops free. When I pull him out of the
wreckage, he clings to me, shivering uncontrollably.
“I knew you would come,” he whispers in my ear. “I knew it. I just knew
it.”
I carry him around the car where Kirill is zip-tying the two kidnappers. A
swarm of my soldiers surround them so there’s no chance of escape. I don’t
recognize either man. But I don’t plan on forgetting them anytime soon. Not
until they’ve been punished for what they’ve done.
“Breathe,” I tell the boy, running my hand down Josh’s back as I walk him
towards the beatdown Chevy that Emma is not supposed to be driving.
She’s standing by the open door of the back seat, cooing softly in an effort
to calm the girls down. She’s wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt
but I can still see the bandages under her cuffs. Not to mention the scrapes
and bruises on her face.
My instant reaction is rage.
Someone is gonna fucking die for this.
I try to quell the beast in my chest, but it is not so easily silenced. I set Josh
down and he scampers towards Emma, who snatches him up and holds him
tight. That right there—the strength in her arms, the relief in her face—is
the whole reason I wanted her to be the mother of my children.
Who wouldn’t want a mother like that for their kids?
She’s got his face cupped between her hands now and she’s talking to him
in a low voice. Those blue eyes of hers are intense, bright with unshed tears.
Then she kisses the top of his head. “Go hug your sisters,” she murmurs.
“They need to know that you’re alright.”
He nods and climbs into the back of the Chevy.
Which leaves Emma and me.
She takes a tentative step toward me, dragging her feet forward like she’s
being forced to the chopping block. “Ruslan…” Her voice is not its usual
self. It’s reserved. Purposefully distant. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”
“How can you make that kind of promise?” she scoffs. “You can’t predict
everyone and everything.”
My jaw clenches despite my best efforts. “No, you’re right. Even the ones
closest to you can surprise you.”
The vein in her forehead pops. It’s barely visible, though, concealed by her
bandage and a bruise. “Or disappoint you.”
Her lips are turned down. And even though it pisses me off, even though I
don’t deserve it…
Her heartbreak is still a thorn under my skin.

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 3

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 EMMA

“What happened?” Ruslan asks gruffly. His eyes track every bruise on my
face, every cut on my skin.
I so want to be aloof and detached. I want to be the grownup here. But my
anger gets in the way of my better instincts.
“Do you even care?”
His jaw tightens. “I suppose I shouldn’t.” He glances back over his
shoulder, probably just to prove how little he cares.
“Right. Anyway, like I said, thank you for intervening. I swear, this will not
be a regular thing. In fact, it won’t be a thing at all.” I back up towards the
Chevy. “I’m just gonna take the kids and—”
Those amber eyes flash to mine. “As much as I would like to send you off
right now, I need to make sure the situation is contained.”
I frown. “What do you—”
“We don’t know if those two mudaks were working in isolation or if there’s
another team they’re coordinating with. Letting you drive off right now
would be foolish.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was trying to keep me here. Keep
me close.
The problem is, I do know better.
I glance back at the Chevy. “Ruslan, the kids are exhausted. Not to mention
terrified. I need to get them away from here.”
He looks unsympathetic, but before he can argue with me, the Chevy jiggles
from side to side and all three kids emerge from the back seat.
“Guys! Get back in—”
My protests are drowned out in a throng of “Ruslan! Ruslan!”
Caroline and Reagan both tackle him at the waist. Hope they knee him in
the balls while they’re at it, I think viciously.
“You saved the day!” Caroline cries.
“You’re like the knight in shining silver.”
“Armor, Rae!”
“I can’t say that word.” Reagan scowls, jutting her tongue out at Caroline.
Ruslan chuckles and something jolts through me when I hear that sound. A
part of me genuinely believed I’d never hear it again. It’s nice to know that
it still exists at all. I wondered if perhaps I’d stolen it from him for good.
It strikes me that that’s a pretty egotistical thought. Someone, someday, is
gonna make him chuckle the way I used to, the way the kids are making
him chuckle right now.
Whoever she is, I already hate her.
“Girls, come on. Give Ruslan some space.”
I’m struck by this overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I feel like I’ve said
something similar to the girls before. I have; I definitely have. Except that
was during one of his first visits to the apartment. We were right on the cusp
of a glorious few months.
That was the beginning.
This is the end.
None of the children are even looking at me. All three are focused on
Ruslan. All three are looking at him as though he’s some kind of sainted
savior. And it makes the pain in my chest all the more piercing.
What have I done? Unintentionally or not, I gave them a father figure,
another male role model who ended up disappearing from their lives
without so much as an explanation or a goodbye. I exposed them to a world
that was too dangerous for any of them. I made the mistake of believing that
Ruslan would protect us, that he would always be around to protect us.
He was so larger than life in my eyes that I forgot the crucial lesson I
learned when Sienna died: it doesn’t matter how bright a person shines; it
doesn’t matter how invincible they seem or how perennial they may
appear…
Everyone is human.
Everyone can leave.
Even heroes can die.
I’m distracted by Kirill who walks over with his eyes fixed on me. I’m not
sure what that expression on his face is—discomfort? Worry? Nerves?
Whatever it is, I have no idea why it would be aimed at me in the first
place. Not when Josh was the one who was almost snatched away from us.
“You okay?” he mumbles.
Ruslan’s head jerks in our direction. Listening. Always listening.
“I’m shook up, but otherwise fine.”
He nods before turning to Ruslan. “We’ve got the situation contained,
pakhan. I’ll transfer the men back to base for questioning. They appear to
be working alone.”
“But why… why take Josh?” I interrupt. Kirill and Ruslan exchange a
glance and I connect the dots. I force myself to make eye contact with
Ruslan. “This is about you, isn’t it?”
Ruslan nods grimly. “Like I said, I won’t let this happen again.”
I grit my teeth. “We should get going, kids.”
“Nooo, Auntie Em!” Reagan complains. She’s clinging onto Ruslan’s arm.
“Can we stay with Ruslan?”
“Yeah!” Caroline agrees. “No one will mess with us then.”
“Ruslan’s busy.” We’re also not his problem anymore. “And we need to get
home.”
“Home?” Reagan asks enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“You mean home-home and not—”
No, no, no—
“Oh my goodness!” I gasp, making all the kids jump. “I, um, forgot to call
Aunt Phoebe. She was expecting us ages ago.” The girls look confused.
Josh is the only one whose expression has turned wary. “If everything’s
settled here, we should be going.”
Ruslan’s gaze is trained on me. Lord, that stare—it draws things out of me
without him even having to lift a finger. “I’ll escort you home. Or to
Phoebe’s, if that’s where you’re going.”
Is he calling me out? Or is he just being protective?
“There’s really no need.”
He’s got that pinched look on his face. Lips pursed, eyebrows joined in one
skeptical slash. That stubborn God-himself-can’t-change-my-mind kind of
look.
“I insist.” His tone is biting. “Kirill and I will follow you. Your place or
Phoebe’s?”
Shit. “My place. I’ll, uh… I’ll just have her meet us at home.”
“Can we go in Ruslan’s car?” Caroline pleads, putting her hands together.
“Yeah, yeah! Please? Pretty please, Aunt Emma!” Reagan joins in.
“Girls—”
“It’s okay with me,” Ruslan agrees.
I know he’s just loving this chance to undermine me in front of them. To
tear down every aspect of my life. But I do need to talk to Josh. I can
practically see all the questions rolling around in that little head of his.
“Okay, fine,” I relent. “But behave, okay?”
The girls whoop and dart off with Ruslan and Kirill. I gesture for Josh to
join me in the Chevy. The moment I’m in the driver’s seat, I grab my phone
and text Phoebe.
EMMA: Pheebs, there’s been a situation. It’s a long story. But I need you
to come to Hell's Kitchen now. FYI, Ruslan will be with us.
I don’t wait for her to reply before I start driving.
“Aunt Emma…?”
I take a deep breath. “Josh, honey, we can’t tell Ruslan we’re staying in the
motel. In fact, we can’t tell him anything at all. Okay?”
I don’t have to look at him to know that he doesn’t like the sound of that.
“But why?”
“It’s complicated.” He groans. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. That’s a lame
answer. The thing is, no one can know that we’re leaving town, Josh.”
“Even Ruslan? He’s our friend.”
Not anymore.
I feel something in my belly. It’s not nearly dramatic enough to qualify as
pain. But it does feel like a reminder.
Ruslan can never know about this baby. If he did, he’d never let me leave. I
wouldn’t be his secretary or his lover anymore; I wouldn’t even be his
friend. I’d be no more than a womb for hire. And that would make me his
prisoner.
I’m not about to subject myself to that kind of torture.
More to the point, I won’t subject this baby to that kind of torture.
“Ruslan has his own life to get on with, Josh. And we have ours. Plus, the
fewer people that know about this, the better.”
“Aunt Phoebe knows.”
“Aunt Phoebe is family.”
“So is Ruslan!”
I can feel the tears gathering in my throat. How do I explain to an eight-
year-old that the one man he admires more than any other wants nothing to
do with us anymore?
I know Ruslan cares about my kids. I know he cares about Josh. But clearly
not enough to give me the benefit of the doubt. Certainly not enough to
want to keep me in his life.
“Ruslan’s not family, Josh.” It actually hurts me to say that out loud. “We
wish him well. But we have to move on. It’s not safe in New York anymore,
not with your father here. Not with… everything else here.”
I catch Josh’s frown from my peripheral vision. “Why do you think they
took me?” he asks in a small voice.
My breath hitches up. He deserves some honesty. If he’s mature enough to
ask certain questions, then he’s entitled to know certain answers.
“I think it may have something to do with… Ruslan.”
Josh’s frown deepens. “Because they saw us together?”
“I think so.”
He keeps picking at his cuticles like he wants to tear off the nails at the root.
“Ruslan’s involved with some dangerous people, isn’t he?”
I nod. “I think so.”
None so dangerous as he is himself. I was a fool not to worry about that.
Josh descends into silence and my phone pings. That’ll be Phoebe’s reply. I
wait until we get to a red light to check.
PHOEBE: Don’t worry. I’ll meet you there. I’m actually only two blocks
away.
Bless her.
When we pull up to Hell's Kitchen, Phoebe is standing outside the building,
leaning against the wall with her leg kicked up. She rushes over as Josh and
I get out of the Chevy.
“You guys okay?” she asks. “What happened? Where are the girls?”
“With Ruslan,” I explain, gesturing over to the SUV parked on the opposite
side of the street. “I’ll explain everything later. Just play along.”
She nods as Ruslan and Kirill walk the girls over to us.
“Aunt Pheebs!” Reagan rushes into Phoebe’s arms.
“Can Ruslan and Kirill come in?” Caroline asks.
“I’m sure Ruslan and Kirill are very busy, honey,” I say quickly. “Just say
thank you and goodbye now, please.”
Caroline and Reagan pout. “Aww, man!”
Phoebe watches both men with eagle eyes. Then, after the girls say their
goodbyes, she gently pulls them in the direction of the building, leaving me
to talk to Kirill and Ruslan.
“Thank you both.” I address both men but I only make eye contact with
Kirill.
Kirill glances at his boss but, when he doesn’t say anything, Kirill takes the
initiative. “If you run into any trouble, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I chance a quick glance at Ruslan. His jaw is still set in that stubborn square
and my stomach flutters with the secret I’m keeping.
“Goodbye,” I whisper. I’m speaking for myself and our unborn child.
Then I turn my back on him and walk away.
He doesn’t bother to say a word.

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 EMMA

“Are they gone yet?”

The sun is fifteen minutes from setting and Phoebe and I have been
watching out of the windows for the past half an hour.
“Still there,” she sighs, letting the curtains fall closed.
“Do you think he knows?”
Phoebe’s eyebrow hitches up. “How can he possibly? Unless he’s been
watching you the past few days…?”
Goosebumps prickle my skin. I collapse onto the armchair opposite the
couch where the girls are currently sprawled out, tangled against each other
and sleeping peacefully. Josh retreated to his room several minutes ago. I
don’t want to intrude—until I have to, anyway.
“Ugh,” I complain softly. “We need to be out of here before Ben comes
back.”
“There’s a Knicks game tonight. I think we’re good.”
I snort out a depressed laugh. “You never know. My luck hasn’t really been
all that great lately.”
“Riiight… luck. That’s the issue at hand.”
I shoot her a look. “You really gonna make me feel bad about this? ‘Cause
trust me: I feel bad enough as it is.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, hon. I’m sorry—that came out
wrong.” The thing with Phoebe is, if you stare at her long enough, she’ll
crack. Sure enough, her mouth twitches, trembles, and then she blurts out,
“It’s just I still can’t believe you signed a contract exchanging money for
sex!”
“I’m not proud of it!” I hiss back.
“Well, you should be,” she retorts, completely taking me by surprise. “It
was ballsy. Hell, it’s the type of thing Sienna would’ve done before she had
the kids. The only mistake you made was falling in love with him.”
And there it is—the undeniable fact that, for all his faults, I am in love with
Ruslan.
I’m also pregnant with his baby.
I’m also praying he gets bored and drives off soon or else this whole thing
is gonna blow up in my face.
I’ve got a lot going on these days.
Phoebe takes another peek out the window. “Still there, by the way.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “He suspects something. Why else would he still
be here?”
“Maybe he’s trying to make sure you’re okay.”
“Please. He doesn’t give a shit about me. If anything, he’s here for the kids.
Which is nice but extremely inconvenient. We need to get back to the motel
and finish planning our escape out of this nightmare.”
“Give it a few more minutes. They can’t sit out there forever.”
I scoff. “You don’t know how stubborn he can be.”
She’s got her lips pursed and her head cocked to the side. A surefire sign
that she’s thinking about something she’s not sure she should say out loud.
“What is it?” I press.
She blinks innocently. “What do you mean?”
“I’m exhausted, Pheebs. Just tell me.”
“I’m just worried, Em,” she whispers. “I’m worried about you out there
alone with three—no, four children. How are you gonna stay afloat?”
“I’ll admit I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I’ll manage. I’ve saved a
good chunk of the money I earned from the… um… contract.”
“Sure, but c’mon. You know babies aren’t cheap, right?”
“What’s the alternative, Phoebe? I can’t stay. Not with Ben around.”
My eyes flit straight to the empty space where the coffee table used to sit.
Phoebe and I cleaned up the glass and shoved the skeleton of the table to
the side so none of the kids trip through it. Now, there’s just a pathetic,
threadbare rug, a few bloodstains, and one really bad memory.
“I wish I could help.”
“You’ve done more than enough, believe me.” I point right at her. “Best.
Friend. Ever.”
She smiles and bats her eyelashes playfully, then glances out the window
again. “Oh! I think they’re gone.”
I jump out of the sofa and rush to see for myself. “Yes. Finally! I’m gonna
go get Josh. Then we can carry the girls down to the car.”
Josh is lying on his stomach on his bed with the curtains pulled right. He’s
got his chin resting on his crossed arms as he stares at the blank wall in
front of him. I stop short, struck by the haunted expression on his face.
“Josh?” He flinches towards me but goes right back to staring at the wall. I
walk over to the side of his bed and kneel down beside it. “Honey, I know
you went through something really traumatic today. We haven’t properly
talked about it.”
He offers me a tiny glance. “I don’t want to leave New York.”
My heart sinks. “Babe, you know why we have to leave.”
“Why can’t you just get custody of us? You’re already our guardian.”
“I know but I’m afraid the system doesn’t work like that. A biological
parent will always get precedence over a guardian.”
Josh shakes his head. “That’s not fair! You and Ruslan are more my parents
than Dad has ever been.”
That one feels like iced water down my back. “Josh, just… come here.”
I pull him to me and hold him tight while he breaks down. Sometimes, even
I forget just how young he is. Just how much he carries on those small
shoulders. I’ll bet having Ruslan around made him feel like he could take a
break and be a kid for a change. And now, he’s once again hauling the
whole world around on his back.
He’s right—it’s not fair.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to him. “I’m gonna make it up to you. One day,
okay? I promise.” When he finally stops crying, I push him back just
enough so that I can see his face. “I know this sucks but right now, we have
to make tough decisions. And we have to stick together. You hear me,
Josh?”
He nods somberly. “I hear you.”
“Good.” I kiss his forehead. “Let’s go.”
I take Caroline, Phoebe takes Reagan, and Josh holds the apartment door
open for us so we can carry them downstairs.
The moment I step out into the street, I feel immediately exposed, as though
there’s a hundred pairs of eyes fixed on us right now.
Paranoia, Emma. It’s just paranoia talking.
Except that the last few times I’ve convinced myself of that, I’ve been dead
freaking wrong. It wasn’t just the paranoia talking.
It was either Remmy.
Or Ben.
Or Adrik.
Or a freaking black sedan driven by who-the-hell-knows.
Once the girls are strapped into their car seats and Josh is wedged in
between them, I shut the door and turn to Phoebe. “Thank you,” I say,
pulling her towards me for a quick hug. “Seriously.”
“Keep me posted, okay? I expect updates every few hours. I’ll try to come
over tomorrow after work.”
“I don’t know if we’ll be sticking around that long, Pheebs.”
Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? You want to check out tomorrow?”
I shuffle my feet around. “I don’t know. My instincts are telling me that I
need to leave as soon as possible. I can’t risk another kidnapping attempt. I
can’t risk Ben catching us. I can’t risk Ruslan finding out about this baby.”
“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with,” Phoebe breathes. “You are one
badass mama bear.”
“More like a desperate one.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Sienna would be so freaking proud.
You know that, right?”
And just like Josh was crying on my shoulder only a few minutes ago, I
find myself crying on Phoebe’s.
I have no idea if Sienna would truly have been proud of me. A part of me
thinks she’d be more pissed off than proud. I mean, I exposed her kids to a
Bratva pahkan. Worse still, I’d let them fall in love with him, then snatched
them away. I’m also taking them away from their father.
Would she be proud? Or would she look at me and see what I see when I
look in the mirror?
Just a lot of wasted potential.
Just another stupid girl who made the mistake of falling for the wrong man.
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 EMMA

Honk-shoo-honk-shoo-mimimi.
I never thought I’d be grateful for Reagan’s silly little snore.
But right now, it’s giving me life.
It’s giving me hope.
It’s giving me something to focus on apart from the terrifying, panicked
weight that’s parked itself on my chest and is getting heavier by the minute.
I check my watch. It’s been twenty-two minutes and Josh still hasn’t come
out of the bathroom. That’s making me nervous, too. If you saw the
bathroom in this motel room, you’d know why. It’s not the kind of place
anyone voluntarily chooses to spend significant time in.
Pretty sure I spotted bloodstains in the tub earlier. I tried to cover them up
with the depressing shower curtains that might’ve been yellow in their
heyday but are now a sad, sickly brown.
Long story short: this motel looks like death, smells like depression, and I
need to get the kids out of here as soon as I possibly can.
Click. The door opens.
Oh, thank God!
“Josh,” I whisper. “You okay?”
He doesn’t really meet my eyes and I can tell why: he’s been crying. His
eyes are puffy, his cheeks are creased, and he’s got that tired, far-off look
that he had the day of Sienna’s funeral.
I’m sitting at the foot of the empty single bed that Josh and I will be sharing
tonight. I pat the rough brown carpet next to me and Josh shuffles his feet
over.
“I know this is hard. I know this isn’t fair. But I wouldn’t be doing it if we
had any other choice, Josh. You know that, right?”
His bottom lip quivers. “I know why we have to leave Dad,” he whispers.
“But I was kinda hoping…” He doesn’t finish his sentence and I’m
relieved. Talking about Ruslan makes me want to burst into tears. At least I
have the excuse of hormones to fall back on.
I’m not pining; it’s just the hormones. Biology. Completely out of my
hands.
I take his hand and he leans a little closer to me. “We have to try and do this
by ourselves, okay, hon? It’ll be hard at first but, with a little imagination,
maybe this can actually be the adventure I promised the girls.”
He raises his eyebrows as if to say, You poor delusional lady, what dream
world are you living in? “Rae and Caro are gonna freak out when they
realize that we’re not ever going back home. They’ll miss their bunk beds
and Connie’s Creamery and the park.”
“I know. God, I know. It’s gonna be hard for all of us. That’s why we need
to be strong.”
He leans his head against my arm. “Aunt Emma?”
“Yes.”
“I hate this place.”
I almost smile. “Me, too.”
“I think there’s blood in the tub.”
My stomach twists. “It’s tomato sauce.”
He picks his head up and looks at me with that expression on his face again.
The crazy lady expression. Geez, I really thought I’d have another decade at
least before I started getting that look from the kids.
“Okay, it might not be tomato sauce, but for the sake of my sanity and a
peaceful sleep tonight, let’s pretend it is, deal?”
At long last, he gives me a half-smile. “Deal.”
We pinky swear on that one and Josh’s head comes to rest back down on
my arm. I know he’s falling asleep when his weight starts sinking into my
side. I can’t carry him on my own anymore but I do manage to sleep-walk
him to the bed.
I crawl in next to him, propped up against the one hard pillow that came
with this place and close my eyes to drift off into a peaceful REM cycle.
Who the hell am I kidding? I’m not gonna get a peaceful sleep tonight.
Maybe not ever again.
I’m trying to skip town with three confused children. I’m essentially
kidnapping them. If Ben decides to be an uber-douche and press charges, I
could be facing jail time.
Sienna’s voice trickles in through my ear. They can’t put you in jail if they
can’t find you.
I’m not exactly making it very difficult. I mean, I’m still in New York, for
God’s sake. I went to freaking Walmart today. I’m still driving the same old
Chevy with the same old license plate. All Ben would have to do is give the
cops my plate number and they’d have this motel surrounded by sunrise.
The sedan kidnappers didn’t have a license plate at all. They were thinking
ahead.
I grimace. You know you’ve hit a new low when you’re taking kidnapping
tips from the men who tried to steal your nephew.
I’ve put my phone on silent, so I don’t hear anything apart from a subtle
vibration on the shared bedside table between the beds. But then it lights up,
throwing an eerie shadow up onto the ceiling.
PHOEBE: Everything okay?
EMMA: Think I’m on the verge of a very real panic attack.
PHOEBE: What’s wrong?
EMMA: Gee, let’s see… my life is falling apart at the seams and I have
no idea how to hold it all together.
EMMA: Why did I think I could do this, Pheebs? I’m a basket case. All
three kids are gonna need intensive, lifelong therapy because of me.
PHOEBE: Em, they lost their mother young and their father is Ben. They
were gonna need intensive therapy anyway.
PHOEBE: What’s the alternative anyway? Stay in New York and let Ben
walk all over you or spend the next three years in court only to lose
custody of those kids to that bastard in the end?
She’s not wrong and it does help to put things in perspective. It doesn’t
stave off the panic but it makes my path forward clear.
Of course I have to leave. There’s nothing left for us in New York City
anymore. Whatever I did have, I lost.
No job.
No sister.
No Ruslan…
EMMA: I love you, Pheebs.
PHOEBE: Love you, too, badass.
I put my phone away and stare at the suitcases piled in the corner. Every
time a shadow passes by the windows, a shiver runs down my spine.
I probably have a few days before Ben realizes that the kids and I are not
coming back. In that short window of opportunity, I need to exchange the
car for another so that he won’t be able to track the license plate number.
Before I know it, I’m on my feet, adrenaline pulsing through my body. I
could pack up the car right now. We could leave this very night. Then the
kids could sleep while I drive us out of New York and into another state. By
tomorrow night, we could have a different car.
We could have a different life.
I spend the next hour hustling back and forth between the motel room and
the Chevy. I load her up, praying that she’s got a couple of hours of heavy
driving left in her. We’re only a three-hour drive from the Pennsylvania
border. Putting New York behind us would be a huge emotional relief, if not
necessarily a logistical one.
A car cruises past, its headlights blinding me for a moment. It strikes me as
strange that it’s moving so slowly.
Strange or suspicious?
The car goes past. A dark car. Maybe blue, maybe black—I can’t tell in the
darkness. It seems suspect. But then again, so am I.
I probably look shady as all hell, prowling the motel in the dead of night,
clearly trying to make a quick getaway.
Just add this to the list of things to talk about in therapy.
By the time I’ve got the last of the bags packed up, I feel just a little bit
steadier. Now, I just need to get the kids in the backseat and off we go.
I shut the trunk. Is that…?
I freeze, fear pooling in my stomach. There’s a tall silhouette standing not
five feet from me. Oh, God, the keys. I left them on the roof of the car.
He raises his hand and the keys dangle from his fingers. “Looking for
these?”
I know that voice.
I move around the car, my eyes going wide with disbelief when I see who’s
standing there.
“Good evening, Ms. Carson,” Ruslan says casually. “Funny running into
you here.”

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 RUSLAN

I can tell the moment she thinks about running from me.
Emma’s gaze darts to the right. Then to the left. When I move towards her,
she takes a step back. I try not to take it personally but it’s strange how that
thorn under my skin just gets wedged in deeper.
How can she be so wary of me?
Me, the man who saved her.
Me, the fool who loved her.
“You’ve been following me,” she accuses.
“Your powers of deception aren’t quite as honed as you might think, kiska,”
I drawl sarcastically.
“I’m not quite as good of a liar and con artist as you are? Gee, don’t flatter
me,” she fires back with just as much venom.
Grimacing, I glance over her shoulder at the decrepit shithole she chose to
house the children. “Of all the places you could have taken them, you chose
to bring them here.”
She bristles. “I did what I had to do. I did my best.”
“And this is your best?”
She tries not to react apart from a subtle flinch, but I know I’m getting to
her. I’m just voicing all the doubts she’s already got banging around in that
stubborn little head of hers. Her forehead vein is telling me so.
“What are you doing here, Ruslan?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
She stiffens. “I want a change.”
“One hell of a change you picked.”
Her eyes flare with anger. “What the hell do you care? You’re done with
me, remember? You want me out of your life. Were those not your words?”
The fucking nerve of this woman. To betray me and then have the gall to be
pissed off that I reacted, that I found out.
“And I meant every single one,” I hiss back. “But I do still care about those
kids. And, considering you seem intent on dragging them out of the city in
the dead of the night, I have every reason to be concerned.”
“You are not their father.” There’s pure poison in every word she spits.
“You are not their guardian. You are not their anything. You want me out of
your life? Well, right back atcha, buddy.”
I take a step towards her, trapping her between me and the passenger side
door. “Let me remind you again.” I’m whispering at this point but she
cringes back as though I’m screaming at her. “I’m not here for you.”
She looks away from me pointedly but I still catch the glossy sheen of tears
in her eyes. She tries to get away but I only press my body in tighter.
“Ruslan,” she pants, “let me go.”
“Trust me: there’s nothing I would like better.” Thank God my powers of
deception are much better honed than hers because otherwise, she would
see right through my bullshit. I don’t want to let her go anywhere. “But
unfortunately, my world has gotten entangled with yours. I have to make
sure that’s corrected before I can let you go.”
I adjust my position carefully so that she won’t notice the throbbing
erection that pinning her against the car has caused.
I’m gonna need to find a way to kill this particular beast. It doesn’t want to
die easily.
“W-what does that mean?” she stammers.
“It means that someone has their eye on Josh. And if they’ve noticed Josh,
they’ve noticed you and the girls, too. You’ve got a target on your back,
Emma, and I need to take out the motherfucker who’s holding the gun.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “That’ll take too long.”
“What are you in such a hurry to get away from?”
“You!”
My scowl deepens. “I’m flattered—but I’m also not buying it.”
“It’s not so hard to believe,” she insists. “When relationships end, people
want fresh starts.”
“What relationship?” I snarl.
There’s that flinch again. There’s that throbbing vein. As titillating as our
proximity is right now, I don’t enjoy hurting her. Every time I do, the beast
in me roars in protest. It goes against the grain, to hurt someone you feel
you were born to protect.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “You’re right. We never had a relationship. You
were paying me to sleep with you and I was desperate enough to say yes. I
was your whore—that’s it.”
The word sounds so much harsher coming from those sweet pink lips. Lips
that I want to consume like a rabid fucking animal.
She cringes the moment she sees the oncoming glare of headlights. Her
head cranes to the side as she peers through the darkness. She’s so jumpy
tonight.
“It’s just a passing car.”
Her frown doesn’t ease. Her gaze stays glued to the car—which, I’ll admit,
is driving very slow considering the roads are empty at this time of night.
“That car already drove by a few minutes ago.”
That sets my spine tingling. No one’s about to slow down for a second look
at this piece of shit motel. I pull out my gun and she gasps again, her lips
parting softly. The squirm of her discomfort just makes my dick throb
harder.
“Ruslan—”
“Go inside. Lock the door. Don’t come out until I come for you.”
She glances at my raised gun and then to me. “W-what are you going to
do?”
“Deal with this.”
She shakes her head. “M-maybe it’s just random people… strangers…
Maybe this has nothing to do with us…”
“Maybe. But I’m not taking the risk. Now, go!”
She doesn’t move. It takes me a moment to register that she’s shivering
violently. That her eyes are wide with terror and her body seems incapable
of moving.
“Emma.” Her eyes flicker to mine but the shaking doesn’t stop. I grab her
arms and this time, when her eyes land on me, they don’t look away. “We
don’t have time for a panic attack right now. I need you to snap out of this.”
Her lips are still parted.
The headlights flash again.
Yeah… This is not a fucking coincidence.
So I bend down and catch those lips with mine. This time, I swallow her
gasp. I kiss her lips raw. It lasts only a few seconds, maybe less, but I make
every last one of them count. I go in deep and passionate, forcing life back
into her frozen body. She doesn’t fight me; she’s probably too shocked to do
anything but surrender. My body curls around her protectively, stealing a
kiss I have no right to anymore.
When I pull back, her eyes are still fixed on me. “Go.”
This time, she listens. She sprints towards the stairs, ascends to the second
floor, and disappears into the fourth door on the right. Satisfied that she’s
safe for now, I turn my attention to the headlights.
I’m too far away and it’s too dark to determine how many men I’m dealing
with, but Kirill is close by. I shoot him a quick text.
RUSLAN: 92. Boynton Motel in Cedar Valley. Bring the clean-up team.
Slightly premature, but I like my odds. I didn’t get this far for lack of
confidence. I keep my gun at the ready and stay crouched behind the Chevy.
The car has stopped across the street. A moment later, the driver kills the
headlights. I duck down and slide around the rear of the while two men exit
the truck. They walk across the street towards the motel.
Both men remind me of the two kidnappers from this morning. Too casual
to be real threats, but too on edge to be actual civilians. Whoever is sending
them wants to keep this under wraps.
I lie in wait, making room for the off-chance that these two men are just
random, innocent people with no ulterior motive. Then the shorter man
points to the second floor. I follow his finger to see it aimed at…
Door number four.
So much for that theory.
I screw a silencer on my gun and keep inching around the car so that their
backs are to me. I have a clear shot at both men but I only need one alive.
I’ve always been a good shot. But when I’m pissed off, I’m a great one.
There’s something about the anger that gives me tunnel vision. It’s like I’m
looking through a long lens camera and there’s nothing else in the world but
my target and me.
Someone—and I have a pretty good idea I know who—thought sending
hired assassins after my family was a good idea. That someone is going to
find out just how stupid a move that was.
I’m going to send him back so many bodies that the only discernible
conclusion to draw will be obvious.
He’s going to be next.

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 7

OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

The tall one goes down like a toy soldier.

I might as well have flicked him down with my fingers. He tumbles over,
face-first, into the ground without emitting so much as a gasp. His
companion doesn’t even notice until his question goes unanswered.
“… Jannik? How do you wanna do this…? Jannik?”
I’m already halfway to him when he turns and notices that Jannik’s eating
cement in a pool of his own blood. As soon as he sees me coming, he pales,
twisting around while he fumbles for his gun.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He freezes with his hands suspended in
mid-air. “Hands up where I can see them.”
“W-who are you?”
“The better question is, who are you?”
“I-I-I…”
I roll my eyes. “He hired the very best, didn’t he?” I mutter under my
breath.
Clearly, Adrik didn’t think he needed to send his best men to deal with a
woman and three children. His fucking mistake. This poor bastard’s price to
pay.
“Listen…”
“No, you listen,” I snarl. “You have five seconds to tell me who hired you
or else you’re going to be drinking your own blood just like Jannik there.”
The conflict in his eyes is evident. His gaze darts between me and Jannik,
Jannik and me. For a moment, it even veers up to the second floor of the
motel.
What should he choose? Self-preservation or certain death?
The joke’s on him, though. He’s facing death either way. I just need to make
him believe he has a way out.
“Four seconds.”
He licks his lips. “Listen, man. I’m not who you think I—”
“Three seconds.”
His right hand keeps twitching in place. He’s still got them raised but
they’re creeping lower with every passing second.
Don’t be a fucking idiot.
“Two seconds.”
He chooses to be an idiot.
His hand swoops towards his gun but I’ve already taken aim. I pull the
trigger and his strangled cry echoes across the empty lot. He grabs hold of
his stump of a right wrist with his uninjured hand and holds it up to the
light. It’s spouting blood in every direction.
Like I said—I’m a great fucking shot.
I sigh and let my weapon dangle by my side as I saunter closer. “I’m
disappointed. I thought you looked like the smarter one. It’s why I chose to
kill him instead of you.”
He’s still gawking at the bloody sewer where his hand once was. Even
when his legs give out and he drops to his knees, he doesn’t look away. The
only indication that he’s even aware I’m there is that he flinches away when
I step up to him.
“I’m not a patient man. Nor am I a merciful one,” I growl. “But I’m willing
to make an exception tonight—for your sake. Tell me who sent you.”
His eyes slide up to mine. They’re wide with disbelief but there’s a little
anger creeping in, too. He scowls darkly. “Y-you’re gonna kill me
anyway…”
I shrug. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. If you tell me, there’s a chance you
might get to live. You might as well play those odds tonight. It’s the most
important gamble you’ll ever make.”
His skin is patchy and pale. It looks even worse with all the sweat and
blood dripping down his face.
“I-I’ve got kids, man,” he tries.
I squat down in front of him and clutch his destroyed hand. His scream
echoes into the empty, unforgiving night.
I look him right in the eye, my voice low and menacing. “Those are my kids
up there. Those are my kids you’re after.”
Every muscle in his face is spasming uncontrollably. “I-I didn’t know that,
man… fuck… please, please… Aaaarghhh!”
I squeeze his hand until his tears mix with the sweat. He begs for mercy but
I’m fresh out tonight.
“An attempt was made on my boy this evening,” I explain to him
conversationally, without letting go of his hand. “Those men refused to talk,
too, just like you. Now, they’re dead. I gave them the same choice I’m
giving you now. Time to choose better than they did.”
He clenches his teeth and I see blood mingling with his saliva. Lights
approach from the distance.
That’ll be the clean-up crew. It’s up to this mudak whether their services are
needed or not.
“If I talk, h-he’ll kill me…”
Honestly, it’s shocking to me that Adrik can inspire this kind of fear. I
might have been impressed if I weren’t so damn furious.
“I will kill you,” I promise him. “And I’m much, much closer to you right
now.”
If this idiot tenses any more, he’s going to pop his eyeballs right out.
“You have one second,” I inform him.
“I ca—”
I pull the trigger, cutting off his refusal prematurely. The bullet lodges itself
in his heart and his eyes go glassy almost instantly. I push him onto the
asphalt and get to my feet with disgust.
“Piece of shit,” I mutter.
When I look up towards door number four, I catch sight of Emma’s face at
the window. She’s staring down at me, the horrified whites of her eyes
visible even from here.
Headlights pull into the half-empty lot, drowning out Emma’s silhouette
with their glare. Kirill leaps out and jogs over to me.
“Dammit. Looks like I missed all the fun.”
I use the seat of my pants to wipe off the sticky blood on my hand. “Fucker
refused to talk.”
Kirill raises his eyebrows. “Same as the kidnappers. Who knew Adrik was
capable of running such a tight ship, huh?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Unless…?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Unless what?”
“Unless we’re not dealing with Adrik at all?” Kirill suggests. “Maybe this is
someone else entirely.”
“No one else has it out for me like Adrik does. No one else knows as much
as Adrik does. There’ve been too many coincidences where he’s
concerned.” I gesture for the clean-up crew. “Get them both out of here
before someone notices. I’m going to go get Emma and the kids.”
“What’s the plan?”
“The plan is simple: keep them safe until we figure out who’s moving
against me.”
Kirill doesn’t push me for details. He stays behind to supervise the clean-up
while I head up the stairs to room number four.
Before I can knock, she opens the door and steps out into the open passage.
“You just killed two men,” she blurts.
I can understand her panic. She’s only ever been acquainted with the CEO
of Bane Corp. The no-nonsense businessman in crisp Tom Ford suits who
gets what he wants through cutthroat deals and the subtle art of persuasion.
She’s never really come face to face with the other side of who I am. The
ruthless pahkan who gets what he wants through brute force, sheer will, and
—on particularly messy nights like this one—blood. Lots of it.
I keep my voice soft and calm. “They were here to hurt you and the
children. They would have taken the kids and used them as bait. They
would have done the same and worse to you. That’s why they had to die.”
She shivers and rubs at her forearms. “Why does anyone have to die?”
There’s something about her innocent questions that I find endearing. I can
see the harsh reality of my world through her eyes and it only makes me
more determined to keep her and the children safe from it.
I may not like her right now. That’s okay.
I don’t have to like her to protect her.
“Because this is the underworld, Emma. And violence is the one language
we all speak fluently. Now, come—we have to go.”
She blanches. “G-go? Where?”
“Back to one of my penthouses for now. Until I find a more permanent
location for all of you.”
“You want us to come with you?”
“It’s not safe for you on your own right now.”
Her gaze flashes past me. “I-I’ll leave town. No one will be able to find us.
I won’t be your problem. It’s a win-win.”
She takes a step back, as though she’s desperate to start putting distance
between us immediately.
What is that in her eyes? Is that fucking distrust? After all I’ve done?
I’m pissed off all over again. Where the fuck does she get off not trusting
me? I’m not the one who blew up our contract with her fucking double
dealing. I’m not the rat. I’m not the snake.
“You don’t know this world, Emma. You don’t understand the men in it.
They’re relentless. They won’t stop coming after you. Not until I stop them.
But that requires time.”
The more I talk, the more terrified she seems. “Ruslan—”
“Those children will never be safe until I handle this situation. Do you
really want to subject them to a life on the run? Looking over your shoulder
at every turn? Wondering if the man in the corner is looking at you or
looking past you? Wondering if every smile and act of kindness comes with
bloody strings attached?”
She swallows hard, her eyes glistening with tears.
“I have the resources to protect them, Emma. Let me.” Her mouth falls
open; she hesitates. So I go in for the kill. “This is my fault. Those men are
after you and the kids because of me. Give me a month to fix it. Give me a
month to make the world safe for them again. Then you and I can forget
each other ever existed.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. For a moment, I wonder if
she’s praying, and if so, what exactly she’s praying for. Then she opens her
eyes again and looks at me. “Okay.”
I nod and follow her into the room to get the kids.
It strikes me, as I hoist a snoring Reagan into my arms, that this might
possibly be the worst decision of my life. And still…
I wouldn’t take it back for anything.

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 8

OceanofPDF.com
 EMMA

Some silences are dangerous.

Like the one we’re in right now. Ruslan at the wheel, driving carefully so
that he doesn’t wake the three sleeping children in the back. Me, picking at
my nails and trying to fight the stupid, stubborn hope that’s resurfacing
slowly no matter how many times I try to drown it.
That hope keeps saying stupid, stubborn things. Like, If we have to spend
this month together, maybe, just maybe it will change something between
us.
Maybe he’ll hear me out.
Maybe he’ll believe me.
And if he does those things, then maybe there doesn’t have to be a goodbye
at the end of this month. Maybe there’s a chance I can tell him about this
baby and we can raise it together like we planned.
Then again, you know what they say—the best-laid plans…
I’m not just blowing smoke here. I’m not creating a narrative out of
nothing. He was the one who kissed me in the motel parking lot. You can’t
fake passion like that.
Whenever I think Ruslan isn’t paying attention, I sneak a peek at this
profile. Those damn cheekbones. They were made for great things. A man
with a face like that can’t just be an ordinary guy. He can’t be a teacher or a
plumber or a damn accountant.
I expect that we’re headed towards 48 th Street. But the route Ruslan is
taking points us in the direction of Madison.
The Inner Sanctum?
That’s surprising. And it fuels the hope that’s kindling in my gut. Sure, he
cares about the kids—but maybe they’re the excuse he’s using to care about
me, too?
Kirill helps Ruslan and me take the kids up to the penthouse. I follow the
two men as they lead me through the labyrinth of rooms. One bedroom
down the hall from the master has a huge, king-sized bed. We pile all three
kids there and back out slowly.
Kirill disappears just as quietly as he came, but Ruslan stays behind. He
stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, scrolling through his phone and
ignoring me completely.
But it’s enough that he’s here.
Even though I’m still mad at him and even though a part of me hates him
for refusing to believe me, I’d rather him be here than leave us all on our
own.
His oaky scent and his stabilizing presence make me feel somewhat
relaxed, somewhat safe. I’ve spent the last few days obsessing about next
moves and money and survival. It’s nice to know that, for the next month, I
can lay my worries at his feet and he’ll take care of them.
Even if he doesn’t actually want to.
I tiptoe towards the window tentatively. Perhaps this is the beginning of a
fragile truce. For the kids’ sake. It’s all for the kids’ sake.
All of the kids.
Including the one in my belly.
I’m not sure how much of my current thought process stems from the
hormones and how much stems from the fear of being alone. All I know is
that I do not want to be alone right now.
Ruslan puts his phone away and my heartbeat kicks up a notch. I feel like a
shy tween at her first party, when the boy she has a crush on happens to
bump into her and there’s a few minutes of real face-to-face contact.
“The security code is the same. I didn’t get a chance to change it since you
were last here.” His voice is gruff. He speaks as though I was here years
ago when it’s only been days.
“Okay.”
“You’re free to change the code if it makes you feel better.”
“What if you or Kirill need to come up here?”
“We’ll call you directly for the code. Just don’t text it to anyone.”
“I won’t.”
The apartment is eerily silent. Even though we’re both talking quietly, the
sound carries, bridging the distance between us. He turns towards the main
door and I feel the panic build.
Don’t go.
That weird, piercing discomfort in my belly is happening again. That would
be an easy way to get him to stay. Telling him about the secret I’m carrying
—quite literally.
No. That’s not what I want. That’s not what I should do.
“The fridge is stocked and so is the pantry.”
“You were expecting this?”
He frowns. “Of course not. This apartment is where I spend most of my
time outside of the office. It’s stocked for me.”
“Oh.” My cheeks color instantly. “Right.”
“I’ll have Kirill bring more supplies in the morning. You can put together a
list of all the things you might need and send it over to him.”
“I’m not sure he’ll appreciate playing errand boy.”
Those amber eyes flash to mine. “He’ll do whatever the fuck I expect of
him. That is his job. Serving his pahkan.”
“Where will you go?” He raises his eyebrows and I start word vomiting all
over him. “I mean, you need to sleep, too. And if this is where you spend
most of your time, then—”
“I have half a dozen other properties in this city,” Ruslan says, cutting me
off. “Any one of them will do.”
“Oh. Okay.” He makes another step towards the exit. “A-and how do I
change the security code again?”
He shoots me an impatient glare. “Put in the old access code. Then put in
the new code, followed by the pound key.”
“Okay. Six digits, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything—”
“Emma.”
He doesn’t raise his voice but somehow, it feels like he has. My jaw snaps
shut and, when he looks at me, it’s like he’s looking into me.
“Are you trying to waste my time?”
My heart thuds painfully against my chest. “No, of course not. I was just
asking. I forgot.”
“No, you didn’t,” he growls, calling my bluff. “You’re trying to buy more
time.”
I don’t even bother denying it because honestly, I already know I’m
probably not gonna be very convincing. “I just—”
“Let me make something very clear.” His tone is biting and it makes me
feel about this big. “Nothing has changed between us, Emma. You and I are
not friends or coworkers or lovers. The only reason you’re here at all is
because I refuse to let any harm come to those children on account of me.
But as soon as the threat is gone, you will be, too. And I will be happier for
it.”
Each word feels like a nail in my coffin. That kiss earlier was just a
manipulation, a way to get me to listen to him.
Not gonna lie—it hurts.
I’m not the only one to blame here! I want to shout at his back. But the
words are stuck somewhere between my heart and my throat.
They’re trapped, just like I am.
He steps into the elevator and turns around. His face is composed of hard
lines and not a speck of compassion. “If you need anything, contact Kirill.”
The elevator doors close, leaving me to his cold, beautiful penthouse.
My bones ache with exhaustion. My head pounds with stress. But I’m
positive I won’t be able to sleep just yet.
Which is how I find myself on the carpet in front of the windows, staring
off into the city, trying to find the woman I used to be before I pulled the
trigger on my own life.
Was it the day I’d signed the contract with Ruslan?
Or maybe it went back before then. Maybe it was the day that I applied for
the job at Bane Corp.
A little voice inside my head says it doesn’t matter. None of it matters
anymore. There’s no turning back time.
I lean back on one hand and place my other hand on my belly. So far, I’ve
had no signs of pregnancy apart from that hospital sonogram. I don’t feel
nauseous or bloated. It’s way too early for any movement.
And yet, I have never been more sure of anything. In a little over seven
months, I will have a baby. And I will find a way to make it work. Just like
I made it work with the other three children that I didn’t expect to mother.
Ruslan won’t be part of this child’s life and that’s on him. I’m gonna take
my miracles where I get them and love this child for the both of us.
“It’s gonna be okay, little duckling.”
The term of endearment comes naturally to my lips. Sienna used to use it on
me a long time ago, when I was still wetting the bed and crying out from
night terrors.
It’s okay, little duckling. It’s gonna be okay.
I always wet the bed on nights that one of our parents got mad at us. I never
stopped to wonder how Sienna felt on those nights. She was so busy
mothering me that I simply took it for granted that she was okay.
But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was just pretending.
I finally know how that feels.

OceanofPDF.com
 9

OceanofPDF.com
 EMMA

I wake up at nine the next morning. Sunlight is streaming in through the

open windows.
I fell asleep on the couch, which was intentional on my part. I did not want
to go back into the master bedroom. I wasn’t prepared to face the memories
that waited for me there.
Not yet, anyway.
I check my phone to find a text waiting for me.
PHOEBE: Please tell me you and the kids are okay?
EMMA: We’re okay. Not at the motel anymore. I’ll explain when I
process everything.
I check in on the kids, who are still fast asleep in the guest room. Yesterday
was probably more chaos than their little bodies could take. I’m heading
into the kitchen when I hear the elevator doors ping open.
How pathetic is it that my very first thought is, Ruslan? And it’s not like
that thought is combined with dread or nerves or nausea. Honestly, I’d
welcome any of the three. It’s preferable to feeling like the idiot who can’t
help pining after a man who clearly doesn’t give a shit about her.
“Morning,” Kirill says breezily as he exits the elevator with two massive
bags thrown over each shoulder. “You didn’t change the passcode.”
I shrug. “Didn’t think it was necessary.” And I was bogged down deep in
depression last night. “What’s in the bags?”
“Groceries.”
I follow him into the kitchen. “The kitchen’s already fully stocked.”
He huffs as he drops the bags down on the sleek marble center island. “But
those girls have a serious sweet tooth and Uncle Kiki is gonna pretend to be
Willy Wonka for today. I have sugar bomb cereal for Rae, whipped cream
by the boatload for Caro, PB&J supplies for PB&Josh… you get the
picture.”
He starts pulling items out of the bag. I do one double-take after another
when I see all of our favorite treats go sprawling across the countertop.
“How did you know what to get?”
He gives me a quick, you-know-how glance. “Ruslan gave me a list.”
Right. Of course he did.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“You guys need to eat. And anyway—orders.”
I nod glumly. “Does that get old? Always having to take his orders?”
Kirill smiles cryptically. “I know what I signed up for, Emma.” Is that
meant to be a dig at me? “By the way, we’re gonna have the Modani crew
coming up here around noon. Just giving you a heads up.”
I blink. “Sorry, am I supposed to know who that is?”
“Modani—the furniture company…?”
“My furniture company is IKEA.”
He smirks. “This apartment is a little bare-bones and Ruslan wanted you
guys to be comfortable. So they’re gonna set up two rooms for the kids so
that Josh doesn’t have to bunk with his sisters tonight. One of their interior
designers will be coming, too, to oversee stuff. Her name’s Elise. You can
tell her whatever you want done to the master bedroom.”
I grab the box of Oreos and tear into them. “I’m not gonna do that, Kirill.
I’m not even sure I should be sleeping in the master bedroom. I’m fine on
the couch, honestly.”
“Don’t be silly. If you don’t want the master bedroom, there are three more
guest rooms to choose from. Just pick the furniture you like from the
catalog Elise brings and they’ll deliver by tomorrow at the latest.”
I stuff an Oreo into my mouth and reach for another before I’m even done
with the first.
“You alright there, pal?” Kirill asks.
He keeps looking at me funny. He probably smells the crazy on me.
“Just a little overwhelmed. I’m gonna go lie down.” I take the box of Oreos
with me and settle on the couch, completely prepared to be a hermit for the
rest of the day. Of course, that plan is shot to hell when the kids wake up.
But it’s a good distraction. They scamper around the penthouse, oohing and
ahhing at every room in the place. Josh is the only one who shows a
modicum of restraint. But that’s probably only because he’s still
traumatized from yesterday. He shrugs off all my attempts to ask how he’s
feeling.
The Modani crew shows up right when Kirill said they would. That takes
up most of the day. And when they leave, we receive another delivery that
turns out to be toys for each kid. Model trains and Legos for Josh. Dolls and
tea party sets for Caroline and Reagan. Books for everyone. It’s over the top
and then some, but seeing each kid smile forces me to bite my tongue.
I don’t have the right to deprive them of this. Maybe it’ll make things
harder when we’re on our own. But I’d rather allow them a taste of this life
rather than nothing at all.
I spend the evening getting dinner ready and fielding questions from the
kids.
Where’s Ruslan?
Why didn’t he come to see us today?
Will he come see us tomorrow?
They’re all Ruslan-centric questions and it makes me second-guess my
decision to stay here all over again.
In short, I’m a mess. Not even a hot mess. Just a stinky, slovenly, messy
mess.
By the time I get the kids to bed, I’ve worked myself into quite the state. So
I curl up in the corner of one of the guest bedrooms with a blanket over my
shoulders and a churning in my gut and call Phoebe.
“Where are you?” Phoebe breathes the moment she picks up.
“Believe it or not, still in New York.”
“What?” she yelps.
I’m not expecting that reaction. She sounds unreasonably panicked by that
little tidbit. It has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Y-yeah. After what happened with Josh yesterday, Ruslan insisted we stay
in New York under his protection.”
Silence.
“Pheebs? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Um… I guess I was just hoping you’d be far away by now.”
Yeah, okay. Something’s definitely wrong. Phoebe would never hope that
unless she had a good freaking reason to.
“Why?”
“Em—”
“Please, Phoebe. I’ve had a rough day and I think there’s a few more of
those on the horizon. So just tell me.”
She clears her throat. “It’s Ben.” My heart plummets. “He filed a missing
person’s report for all four of you.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“I’m guessing you haven’t turned on the news today?”
“He was on the news? Fuck me! Who has the pull to get him on—”
And then it hits me. So obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it already.
Beatrice and Barrett.
They have the resources and the connections to get Ben on TV, spouting off
God knows what about the three children he barely looked at even when
they were around.
“My parents! My freaking parents. It has to be them. Were they on, too?”
“Not that I saw. The cameras seemed locked in on Ben.”
“It’s only a matter of time. They’re gonna wanna capitalize on the
spotlight.”
“C’mon, hon, do you really think they’d—”
“Of course they would!” I explode. “Of course they would, Phoebe.
They’ve wanted to get their paws on these kids since Sienna died. Since
before Sienna died. Anything to correct the mistakes they made with us.
Anything to get another set of trophy kids.”
“Honey, I think you’re spiraling—”
Goddamn right I’m spiraling. It’s frankly amazing I’ve stayed calm this
long.
I toss off the blanket and leap to my feet. “What was he saying?” I demand.
“On the news, I mean, what was he saying? Who interviewed him? Did
they—you know what, it doesn’t matter. What did he say? What bullshit did
he go with?”
Phoebe sighs. “The whole bereaved father schtick,” she admits. “It was
truly nauseating. He cried and everything.”
Apparently, my morning sickness is triggered by assholes, because this is
the moment it hits. I drop back to the couch and put my head between my
knees.
“This is bad, Pheebs. This is so, so bad.”
“Hey now, calm down. Ruslan will be able to get you out, right?”
“Until he deals with this threat to me and the kids, he’s not gonna let me go
anywhere. He asked for a month to make things right and I stupidly agreed.
But now, I don’t even have a day to spare. Especially if Ben’s out there
spinning bullshit about me.” My pacing slows as something else hits me.
“Wait—did he mention me in the interview today? Were the words
‘kidnapping’ and ‘bitch sister-in-law’ bandied about?”
She hesitates for a second. “You were mentioned only in the context of
another missing person—”
“My parents’ doing,” I deduce. “They won’t want a criminal daughter to
have to explain in their snobby society circles.”
“They’re not gonna be able to control the narrative forever, Em. In any
case, Ben’s a loose cannon. They’re gonna have a tough time reining him in
once he gets a taste for the spotlight.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
“I have to leave, Phoebe. I have to leave now. If he even suspects that I’m
pregnant—”
“Jesus, Emma! Take a breath—”
“I can’t take a breath! I don’t have the time. They’re after me. They’re all
fucking after me and if I don’t move now, they’re gonna catch me. They’re
gonna take my kids. Ben will take Josh, Caro, and Rae and Ruslan will take
my baby! I can’t let them do that, Phoebe.”
“I know. I know.” Her voice is soothing but I can sense her panic. Or maybe
it’s my own. Who the hell knows at this point? What difference does it
make?
All I know is that I can’t stay here in this gilded prison. I can’t allow myself
to be jailed, no matter how much I may care about my jailer.
My kids trump everything and everyone else.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Emma, please—be careful.”
“I love you, Pheebs.”
I hang up abruptly and turn to the door. My blood runs cold when I see
who’s standing in the threshold, his piercing eyes fastened on me.
“K-Kirill—how long have you been standing there?”

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 EMMA

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 HOW LONG HAS HE BEEN STANDING THERE?

The answer is clearly “too fucking long.”

He walks in and sits down on the edge of the new bed that I haven’t broken
in yet. For someone who’s potentially just heard all my secrets, he looks
pretty damn composed.
Maybe, by some miracle, he didn’t hear the part where—
“Don’t look so scared, Emma. I already knew.”
Since I’ve given away enough already, I decide to make him say it. “Knew
what?”
He smirks and crosses his leg in a figure-four. “I know you’re pregnant. I
know you’re carrying Ruslan’s baby.”
That’s it then. It’s all over.
I drop the pretense. “Are you gonna tell him?”
Kirill strokes his chin. “I did try. But he’s not real open to talking about you
these days.”
There’s a lot to unpack in that sentence but I focus on the most troubling.
“Y-you tried to tell him already?”
“Like I said, I already knew you were pregnant.”
“How?”
“I pulled your medical files,” he explains unapologetically. “The day you
landed in the hospital with cuts all over your body.”
“That’s my private information!”
He shrugs. “I had to make sure you were alright.”
“Why?” I demand. “Your boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t
give a shit about me. So why would you?”
“Because, even though he’s my boss, he’s also my friend. And I know what
he wants even when he won’t admit it.”
“Which is what?”
“He wants you to be safe, for starters.”
My insides churn. I so want to believe that. But Ruslan’s words are still
burning in my ears. He was just a little too convincing last night.
“Kirill, you can’t tell him. If he knows—
He holds up a hand to soothe me. “Breathe. I don’t plan on telling him.”
That brings me to a screeching halt. I genuinely thought it would take much
more convincing than that. “You don’t?”
“There’s a lot going on right now. Maybe it’s better not to drop this
information bomb into the middle of it.”
I nod, trembling. “Thank you.”
“But I do think you should be the one to tell him—eventually.”
My lips compress into a hard line. “No.”
“He deserves to know.”
“Does he?” I snap. “Because from where I’m standing, I’m not sure he
deserves a fucking thing from me.” Kirill lofts his eyebrows and I loathe the
judgment in that gesture. “I did not sell information to Remmy Jefferson! I
know that’s what you both believe, but it’s not true. I would never do that.”
His arched eyebrows settle down a fraction of an inch as I leap to my feet
and start pacing around. “Ben is the one who started snooping around in my
car. Which is where I hid the contract because I was so scared he’d stumble
onto it if I kept it in my room. And since Remmy was snooping around in
general… well, you can see how the two would cross paths eventually.
That’s how Remmy got his hands on the contract. Ben handed it right to
him.”
Kirill still doesn’t say a word and that pisses me off. So I just keep talking.
“Whatever you might believe, I do care about Ruslan. I would never have
put that information out there. I wouldn’t even dare to—”
“I believe you.”
I stop short. “W-what?”
He leans back and picks some imaginary lint off his pants. “As explanations
go, yours makes sense.”
I stare at him for a moment and then sigh. “Yeah, try telling your stubborn
ass boss that.”
Kirill chuckles. “Telling him anything now is pointless. He’s too inside his
own head. Without proof—”
“Why does he even need proof?” I cry out. “Why can’t he just take my
freaking word for it?”
“Because that requires trust, Emma. He let you in. He let you in far past his
own personal boundaries of comfort and now, he’s trying to
overcompensate for that by kicking you all the way the fuck out.”
“Sounds like I’m not the only one who needs a therapist.”
Kirill shrugs. “That might be true of all of us.”
I eye him warily, wondering just how much I can trust him. It’s not as
though I have much of a choice, though. Trustworthy allies aren’t exactly
forming a line at my door.
“Kirill, you heard most of that conversation, right?” He nods, so I add,
“Well, then you understand why I have to leave—”
“Leaving is not an option. I understand things are heating up with Ben, but
Ruslan and I can handle that.”
I frown. “You can ‘handle’ that? Kirill, Ben’s being interviewed by CNN.
Morning shows and shit. The man’s crying wolf about his missing children
all over the news.”
“Like I said, I’ll handle it. You don’t have to worry about Ben.” He stands,
straightens his cuffs, and walks over to me with a palm outstretched. “But
for right now, it’s important that you’re not contactable.”
I stare at the open palm he’s offering me. “Are you asking for my hand?
Because we really don’t know each other that well.”
He cracks a momentary smile. “Your phone, Emma.”
I back away from him in horror. “No.”
“Do you really wanna deal with Ben right now? Or your parents? Or more
reporters?”
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “You really know how to make a compelling case,
don’t you?” Reluctantly, I deposit my phone in his hand.
“I’ll get you a new phone and a new number. Also, I wanted to let you
know that I’ll be monitoring the security cameras inside the penthouse.”
I look around. “There are security cameras inside here? That feels a bit
invasive.”
“They’re not in any of the bedrooms or bathrooms. Just the common living
spaces. Don’t worry, Ruslan’s in no danger of hearing that conversation you
just had with your friend.”
“Funnily enough, that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.”
That’s not quite true, though. One thing is making me feel better: that
maybe I’m not completely alone. I have the kids. I have Phoebe. Maybe I
have Kirill on my side, too.
“Kirill?” I blurt. “Why are you helping me?”
A shadow falls over his face so I can’t quite read his expression. “It seems
like you could use a little help,” he says carefully.
Amen to that.
“I know that’s what you want me to believe, but I know Ruslan will always
be your first priority.”
He doesn’t deny it. “Perhaps. But that baby in your belly is my second.
You’re carrying the future pahkan of the Oryolov Bratva. That means you
are my priority, too.”
I frown. I’m not sure how I feel about any of that but I can’t afford to turn
my nose up at a possible ally. Even if that alliance only lasts the duration of
my pregnancy.
At this point, I’ll take what I can get.

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 EMMA

That evening, I get a thick brown envelope addressed to me from Kirill. It

contains my new phone, a slip of paper with several numbers on it, a
restraining order against Ben, and the most important thing of all: official
court documents granting me temporary physical and legal custody of all
three children.
There’s a handwritten note, too. I’ve spoken to a cop that we work with
closely. He can make the missing persons reports go away. We’re gonna
work on proving that Ben is an unfit guardian. Until then, you’ve got
custody of the kids. –Kirill.
I’m reading through the note for the fourth time when the kids tumble into
the kitchen clamoring for dinner.
“Auntie Em? You okay?” Josh asks as he slows to a walk.
“Yeah, honey. Just got some good news.”
“What is it? What is it?” Reagan chirps as Josh helps her up onto one of the
high chairs around the island.
“Well, for right now, I have guardianship of you guys.”
Rae wrinkles her nose up. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I get to look after you guys.”
She doesn’t look impressed. “But that’s what you do now.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I give Josh a wink. “But now, it’s officially
official.”
“I don’t get it,” Reagan says with a shrug. “Caro, do you get it?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“See, Auntie Em? No one gets it.”
Still giggling, I walk around to the stove where I’ve been shallow frying
fish sticks for the kids. I spoon them on a flat plate and set it on the marble
countertop.
“Fish sticks!” Reagan celebrates. “Yayyy!”
Caroline nods in enthusiastic agreement. “I love this place.”
I plop down beside Josh. “Listen, guys, I know you like it here—but it’s just
temporary, okay? We can’t stay forever.”
“Why not?” Reagan asks. “Ruslan won’t mind.”
Where did all that certainty come from? How did he manage to convince
them in such a short time that he is so utterly devoted to them?
“Ruslan lives in New York, honey,” I say gently. “And we need to leave it.”
“But why?”
“Because…” Breathe, Emma. You can do this. “Because I think it’s
important that we make a fresh start somewhere new. Just the four of us.”
Caroline and Reagan exchange a confused glance. “But Auntie Em, what
about Daddy?” Caroline asks.
I swallow. “Guys, your daddy… He’s going through something right now.
He’s not really able to take care of you guys.”
Reagan frowns. “Is that why he’s so mad all the time?”
“That’s part of it, yes.”
Reagan’s little rosebud mouth turns down. “So… we’re not gonna see
Daddy again?”
“I think probably not for a very long time, honey,” I admit. The honesty
hurts even me to say, but we’ve had enough lies around here. I won’t raise
them in the dark. They deserve to know as much as they’re capable of
handling. And if I know anything, it’s that Sienna’s kids are strong.
Both girls look contemplative, unsure how to process that information.
Ben’s always been around even if he wasn’t present. Even if he wasn’t
always nice.
“I’m gonna draw Daddy a card,” Reagan pipes up abruptly. “A get well
soon card. How’s that, Auntie Em?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “I think that’s a great idea, Rae.
What about you, Caro? You wanna make a card for Daddy?”
She shakes her head. “No. He wasn’t always nice to Josh. Or Rae. Or me. I
don’t wanna make him a card.”
I pat her hand. “Don’t worry; you don’t have to.”
“I’d rather make a card for the baby!” she adds.
I freeze. “W-what?”
Caroline transforms into a little bobblehead doll for a moment, blond bangs
flapping on her forehead. “That’s a great idea right? I’m gonna do it.”
“Um, Caro, sweetheart… what baby are you talking about?”
“Your baby, silly!”
Just when the situation feels like it’s halfway under control, this happens.
Aaand I’m back to square one.
Panic.
Fear.
Nerves.
“Yeah, that’s what the nurse in the hospital said,” Caroline babbles. She’s
beaming from ear to ear. “Joshie said we shouldn’t say anything until…”
She trails off when she realizes her big brother is glaring at her. “Oops!”
She slaps her hands over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything
until you told us. Josh said.”
I glance at Josh. “We heard the nurses talking,” he admits quietly. “I wasn’t
sure if it was real or not. Are you having a baby?”
Forget what I just said about raising them with honesty—lying would be so
much easier now. Of course, the moment my belly starts to pop, I’ll have
some serious explaining to do.
They need to know they can trust you. Especially now.
“I am going to have a baby.”
Josh’s eyes go wide and the girls start whooping instantly. “I want a girl! I
want a girl!” Caroline sing-songs.
“No!” Reagan snaps adamantly. “A boy!”
“Guys, listen.” It takes a while before the girls calm down. “Aunt Emma
isn’t gonna have this baby for a really long time, okay? So I think it’s better,
for right now, to keep it our little secret.”
The girls agree easily enough but Josh looks at me almost… accusingly?
Almost… angrily?
No—I’m reading too much into it.
He’s just processing.
I hope.

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 RUSLAN

“… that model is too small. Let’s go for the bigger one. They’ve got a ton
of books already and they’ll need the storage space.”
As Kirill jabbers, I rap my fingers against my desk impatiently. But he
doesn’t seem to notice; he paces in front of me, listening and talking
rapidly.
When he finally puts his phone down, I glare at him, waiting for an
explanation. He calmly takes the chair opposite me, a sheepish expression
on his face. “Should we talk about the security footage from Alcazar? There
were a few anomalies—”
“What the fuck was that about?”
He tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
I hate it when he plays dumb. Scowling, I narrow my eyes. “Kirill.”
He sighs. “Just getting some furniture in for Emma. She chose to camp out
one of the guest bedrooms instead of the master. It needed furniture, so she
ordered a couple of things. I’m just coordinating with the delivery team.”
I run a hand over my stubble jaw. “Glad to see she’s making herself
comfortable.”
“Hey, it took some convincing on my part. I’m the one who told her to
order whatever she wanted and said I would have it delivered.”
I glower at him. “Aren’t you ever-so-fucking generous with my money?”
I don’t know why I’m being a dick. The truth is, I don’t like the familiar
way in which he refers to Emma. I don’t like the fact that he’s attempting to
make her feel comfortable in my home as though it’s his. I don’t like the
fact that he’s talked to her more in the last twenty-four hours than I have.
If this is what jealousy feels like, I want no fucking part of it.
“It’s not your money.”
My eyes snap to his. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. I wouldn’t use your accounts without your
permission.”
“Then whose money are you using?”
“Mine, of course.”
What the fuck? “You’re using your own money to get Emma settled into the
penthouse?”
“Kids need stuff, Ruslan.” He doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest.
“They’re gonna be cooped up in that apartment for fuck knows how long. I
wanted them to be entertained.”
“They’ve got three TVs to do the job.”
“They need books, toys, puzzles. They also need storage space for those
things. I’m just making sure they have everything they need. I believe that
order came from you.”
It did; I just didn’t think Kirill would run with it the way he has. “There’s
no need to use your money. Use one of my accounts.”
“It’s fine,” Kirill replies flippantly. “I’ve got it covered.”
He’s got it covered. The beast inside me roars possessively. No other man
should be taking care of Emma’s needs but me. Even if it is as
inconsequential as bedsheets and extra towels.
“If anyone’s gonna cover the cost of Emma’s needs, it’s me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, face neutral. If he smiles, I’m gonna fucking punch
it right off of him. Lucky for him, he doesn’t. “Alright. Whatever you say,
boss.” He whistles under his breath as his gaze sweeps around the room and
he twiddles his thumbs in his lap. When his eyes finally meet mine again,
he exhales. “Brother, if you stare at me any longer, you’re gonna bore a
hole through my face.” He uncrosses his legs. “Something bothering you?”
“How often do you go over to the penthouse?”
“Which one?”
“Don’t be cute.”
He chuckles. “Every morning. Unless, of course, Emma needs something
and then I’ll drop by in the evening, too.”
“Stay long, do you?”
He knows where I’m going with this but he doesn’t skip a beat before he
answers. “Sometimes. The kids get bored being cooped up indoors all the
time. Spent an hour with them yesterday building a Lego castle.”
That’s my fucking territory is my first thought.
My second is, Am I that easily replaced?
“It was actually pretty fun,” he continues nonchalantly. “Those girls are
hilarious. I don’t know how Emma juggles all three. She’s really got a way
with them, though.”
“Seems they’re not the only ones she’s got a way with,” I rumble.
Kirill rolls his eyes. “You serious, man?”
“You do seem to enjoy spending time with them,” I point out. “Did you stay
for dinner?”
Kirill cocks his head to the side. The bastard’s fucking goading me now.
“Emma was making roast chicken. What was I supposed to do, say no?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. She’s fucking
using you.”
I burst out of my chair and storm to the door.
“Where are you going?” Kirill calls out after me.
“To put a fucking stop to it,” I yell back.
By the time I get to the Madison penthouse, I’ve worked myself up into a
frenzy. I should have known better. The woman played me like a piano in
order to sell me out to the sleaziest goddamn reporter in New York City. Of
course she’s capable of this.
Fool me once—shame on you.
Fool me twice—and you better fucking watch your back because I’m gonna
make you pay.
I walk over to the elevators imagining all the different ways I’d punish her.
Maybe I’ll choke her with my cock. Maybe I’ll slap her ass raw. Maybe I’ll
tie her to the bed with a vibrator strapped to her thigh and leave her there
‘til morning. The thoughts whizz through my head, each reinforced with a
very vivid memory of doing something very, very similar once upon a time.
I punch in the access code furiously.
ACCESS DENIED.
Fucking hell. She’s locked me out of my own apartment. Sure, I told her she
could, but still—not the right time.
I tap in the direct number for the penthouse and listen as the line rings. A
moment later, Josh answers. “Kirill, is that you?”
I see red until I clear my throat. “It’s me, Josh.”
“Ruslan!”
ACCESS GRANTED.
That was fast. No follow-up questions. No are you really Ruslan or are you
just pretending to be so that you can gain access to the penthouse and come
abduct us all?
I’m gonna have to have a chat with that kid.
Right after I have a chat with his aunt.
Except she’s nowhere to be seen when I march into the entry gallery. Josh is
the only one waiting for me. “I knew you’d come sooner or later!” he crows
in delight.
It’s enough to make me feel terrible for staying away this long. Emma
deserves to be punished. Doesn’t mean the kids do. Although my decision
to stay away had less to do with punishing Emma and more to do with
trying to rein in my weaker instincts.
Kissing her that night at the motel from hell was a mistake. It opened up a
whole Pandora’s box that I need to shut back down again. The only way
I’ve figured out to do that is distance.
And masturbation.
Lots of both.
“Where’s Emma?” I grit out past my clenched teeth.
“She’ll be out soon. She’s in her room, I think. You want something to
drink?”
“Just water,” I say, if only to get myself some distance from the hope in his
eyes.
A few seconds after he’s disappeared into the kitchen, the girls find me in
the living room. “Ruslan!” they cry in unison. I’m tackled around the waist
and as per usual, take a glancing hit to the balls before either one calms
down.
“How’ve you two been?”
Caroline smiles. “Good! Uncle Kiki brings us new toys every day.”
Uncle Kiki. Yeah. That’s gonna have to stop.
“Where’s your aunt?”
Reagan’s little bottom lip sticks out. “She’s sick. She’s throwing up all over
the bathroom.”
“Ew, Rae. Don’t be gross.”
“But it’s true.”
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug,” I comfort Rae, running my hand over her
downy hair.
“It’s not a stomach bug!” she insists passionately. “It’s the baby. The baby’s
making Aunt Emma puke all over the bathroom.”
“Reagan!”
My eyes snap up to find Josh by the entry way with my glass of water. His
jaw is hanging open.
So is mine.
Did she just say baby?
Reagan looks between me and Josh. She’s chewing on her bottom lip like
Emma does when she’s nervous. “Oh no… it was supposed to be a secret.
Don’t tell Aunt Emma I told you, okay, Ruslan? Please? Pretty please?”
My gaze veers to Josh again. His expression is all the confirmation I need.
For fuck’s sake.
Emma is pregnant.
And she was gonna skip town without telling me.
Yeah? Well, she can kiss that plan goodbye. Because she’s not leaving in a
month.
She’s not leaving ever.
I turn and storm out of the penthouse immediately. As I go, I pick up my
phone and dial Kirill’s number. “Called to compliment me on making such
a fantastic Lego castle?” he says when he answers. “Or is this an apology
call for being such an asshole earlier?”
“I’m transferring Emma and the kids to my estate,” I snap instead of
answering his questions. “Make the necessary arrangements. They’ll be
moving in tomorrow.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Sure thing, boss. Everything okay?”
Great fucking question.
I wish I had an answer to it.

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 EMMA

The morning sickness has officially hit with a vengeance.

And boy, is it frigging awful. I can’t even keep down Nutella on toast. You
know shit’s getting real when your system rejects gooey chocolate on
warm, toasted bread.
So I’ve been sprawled miserably on the sofa with a hot pack over my
forehead, trying to get Rae to tell me why she’s been allergic to me all
morning.
“Can I get a hug at least?” I ask as she scampers past.
“No!” she screams before running into her bedroom. A second later, I hear
the door slam.
I glance at Josh. “What’s up with her today?”
Josh gives me a noncommittal shrug that makes me think there’s definitely
something going on there.
“She’s just scared, Aunt Em,” Caroline offers.
“Scared?” I put the hot pack aside and sit up. “Scared about what?”
Now, Caroline looks like she’s caught Reagan’s allergy to me. She backs
away slowly, her eyes skidding from one side to the other. “Um… I
dunno…”
Then she leapfrogs over one of the footstools and follows Reagan to the
room. I bite my lip. Maybe I should invest in therapy sooner rather than
later.
“Josh, is there something going on I should know about?” Like his sisters,
he’s not looking me in the eye. “Sweetheart, you know you can tell me
anything, right?”
He nods.
“Is this about the kidnapping? Or are the girls missing Ben?”
Josh just shakes his head. “That’s not it.”
“Well, something’s up. I feel like I have a bad case of the cooties.”
He smiles but it’s a half-hearted one. “I’ll go talk to them.”
He slips away and I’m left in the empty vastness of the living room. I
remember being enamored by the views when I first saw them. But as it
turns out, even the most beautiful view loses its appeal when you know you
can’t be a part of it.
Maybe what’s going on with the kids is a simple case of boredom. They’ve
been cooped up indoors for too long. They need grass and fresh air and the
sound of other people.
I pick up my new phone. It feels foreign in my hand. Too big, too heavy, too
sleek, and too silver. I miss my old phone. The one with the cracked screen
and the fuzzy display.
EMMA: Hey. Is it possible to get a child therapist to come in a few days a
week? I think it might help the kids to talk to someone.
KIRILL: We can discuss it.
Hmm. I had expected a quick and easy yes on that one. Unless he’s thinking
of running it by Ruslan first…
Which is super annoying.
EMMA: When?
KIRILL: When you’re settled in at the estate.
EMMA: Excuse me. What estate?
KIRILL: I’ll fill you in on the details when I see you. I’ll be there in ten.
EMMA: I’d rather you tell me now. We’re leaving the penthouse?
He doesn’t respond. I notice him typing but then the three dots disappear
and he goes offline.
EMMA: Kirill.
EMMA: Kirill???
Okay. This day is pissing me off. Everything feels just a little bit off-kilter.
Like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Maybe it’s just
the morning sickness. Speaking of…
Urgh.
I race to the nearest bathroom and puke up the glass of lemonade I spent the
last half an hour gingerly sipping. So much for tricking my body into
accepting some calories. When I come back outside, Josh is standing in the
living room with the girls. Caroline is on the divan and Reagan is hiding
behind her brother.
I smile. “Uh-oh. This looks serious.”
Not one kid returns the smile.
I lower myself down to the sofa and face all three with the same
somberness they’re directing at me. “Starting to get nervous here, guys.”
“Aunt Emma, Reagan has something she wants to tell you,” Josh explains,
taking Reagan’s hand and pulling her forward.
“But you have to promise not to get angry with her,” Caroline chimes in.
My eyes go wide and I look right at Reagan, who actually flinches back.
“Honey, I could never be angry with you. You’re one of my two favorite
nieces.”
That one usually gets a smile. Today—nothing.
“Whoa. Tough crowd.” I take a deep breath and hold my hand up, palm
facing Reagan. “I solemnly swear that I will not get mad at Reagan for
whatever it is she’s done.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Reagan says earnestly. “I said something bad.”
I try not to smile too hard. “Oh, sweetheart, did you say a bad word?
Because I’ll tell you right now, it’s okay. We all slip sometimes. Just don’t
do it again.”
Her frightened stance doesn’t change. “I didn’t say a bad word. I… I told a
secret.”
I’m not overly concerned. I mean, we’ve been cooped up in here for days.
The only person they’ve really hung out with lately is Kirill and he already
knows my secret.
“What secret, Rae?”
Beep, beep, beep.
“Oh, hold on—that’ll be Kirill. Josh, honey, can you let him up?” I turn my
attention back on Reagan. “Go on, sweetheart.”
Her chubby little cheeks sag under the weight of her remorse. “I told Ruslan
about the baby in your belly.”
For a second, I don’t react. Then I laugh. “How can you have told Ruslan?
You haven’t seen him in days.”
Caroline shakes her head. “He came over last night.”
I frown, my eyes swiveling towards Josh. “He did, Aunt Em. You were in
the bathroom puking.”
Slowly, it starts to sink in. Reagan told Ruslan that I had a baby in my belly.
While I was throwing up in the bathroom.
Last night.
Oh, God.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.
“I’m really sorry, Auntie Em.” Reagan’s eyes are watery with tears and I
realize that my reaction is not helping.
“I-it’s okay, baby,” I insist, even though I’m dying inside. “Don’t worry
about it.”
“Are you mad at me?”
How can I be mad at a five-year-old? Who expects a five-year-old to keep
that kind of secret? Or any kind of secret? I should’ve known this was
coming sooner or later. I just wish it hadn’t been quite this soon.
“Of course not. Not mad. Not mad at all.” My voice is a little too high-
pitched to be believable. I need to calm the fuck down. “Why don’t you
guys head into the kitchen? Lunch is on the counter.”
They scurry along and I start pacing frantically.
Ruslan knows. Why hasn’t he confronted me about it? Why hasn’t he
reacted? Is he going to punish me? Trap me? Give me the silent treatment
until the baby pops out?
I stop short when the elevator doors open and Kirill walks in. So that’s why
the sudden change of location.
Be cool, Emma. Be cool.
“Hey.”
God, I sound stiff.
Kirill raises his eyebrows. “Where are the kids?”
“Just having lunch. The smell of meat makes me want to puke so I’m just
staying out of the kitchen ‘til they’re done.”
“Well, I just wanted to tell you to start packing. The car will be here at nine
tomorrow morning to take you to the Oryolov Estate.”
I give him a polite nod. “And why are we being moved there?”
His expression is ridiculously convincing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d
think it was all run-of-the-mill stuff happening here. Standard protocol for
victims of kidnappings, extortion attempts, and the like. “The kids will have
free run of the place. There’s huge gardens and a pool and—”
“This is a trap!”
So much for being cool.
Kirill startles. “Um…”
“He knows. That’s why he’s moving us.”
He sighs. “Five-year-olds, I assume?”
“You weren’t gonna tell me. You were just gonna give me a bunch of
bullshit excuses for why we were moving.”
He shrugs, not even bothering to deny it. “I figured if Reagan hadn’t told
you, then—”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends, Emma. But I still have a job to do. Part of that job involves
keeping you safe. And this move will accomplish that.”
“Bullshit. He’s never gonna let me out of that place. I’ll be a prisoner for
life.”
“Emma—”
“No! Don’t you ‘Emma’ me. I should have known better than to trust you.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice is low and gentle. “I’m afraid this is nonnegotiable.”
I scowl at him helplessly. “He asked me for a month; I gave him a month.
That’s all I’m prepared to give.”
“That’s for you and Ruslan to decide together.”
I snort incredulously. “Right. Because Ruslan’s totally the kind of guy who
believes in mutual decisions and compromise.”
“I know this is hard—”
“I need to get the kids out of here.”
“You need to keep the kids safe,” he reminds me. “And staying with Ruslan
is the easiest way to ensure their safety. You know that. I know you know
that.”
I turn away from him with a sniffle. It doesn’t really matter what I know.
The decision has already been made for me.

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 14

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 EMMA

When Kirill said estate, he really meant estate.

The place is ginormous. It’s sprawled over acres, surrounded by fifteen-foot
walls that pale in comparison to the grounds they protect. It’s hard to
believe we’re only an hour from Manhattan. The lush greenery of Oyster
Bay Cove feels like another state entirely.
Once we pass the first layer of security, which involves Fort Knox-esque
levels of steel gates and grim-faced security guards, it’s a three-minute and
twenty-seven-second drive to the mansion, which I know because Caroline
dutifully counts off every one of those seconds.
Who takes that long to get to their front door from their front gate?
Ruslan Oryolov. That’s who.
Not that I’m impressed. Oh, no. I’m disgusted. This kind of wealth is… It’s
obscene. It’s ridiculous. It’s egotistical. It’s—
“Whoa, this is so cool!” Josh breathes in awe.
I don’t hear another peep from the girls. Any time they’re rendered
speechless, I know for sure they’re blown away.
Whatever. This kind of luxury and excess may work on the kids. But it will
not work on me. Until—
Oh my God! Is that the house?
“We’re going to be staying there?” Reagan squeals. “It’s like a castle!”
“Castle” is a much more appropriate word. I shudder to think what this
property must have cost. Whoever said “Billionaire’s Row” was back in the
heart of the city clearly hasn’t seen this behemoth.
“You guys better stick close to me,” I mutter as the car comes to a stop. “I
don’t want any of you getting lost in there.”
“Maybe in the evening, I can take you guys down to the stables to see the
horses,” Kirill suggests.
“There are horses!” Caroline screams in delight.
I plug a finger in each eardrum, though it’s too little, too late. My ears are
still ringing when I get out of the car and turn to the intimidating structure
in front of me. White Corinthian columns, scowling gargoyles, doors big
enough to let in half a dozen Trojan Horses side by side… this place is
absurd in every way.
“Is that a garden, Uncle Kiki?” Caroline asks, pointing to a perfectly
manicured circular patch of grass and crushed gravel off to the right hand
side of the property.
“Nope. That’s the helipad.”
I want to vomit.
“Come on, you little gremlins. Ruslan will be waiting for us inside.” He
gives me a wary look over his shoulder, but I glance away so I don’t have to
meet his eyes.
I wish there was a helicopter waiting on the helipad so that we could make a
quick getaway. I don’t even need to know how to fly the thing; I’ll wing it.
Or crash it.
Either one seems like a better alternative than facing Ruslan.
Reagan grabs my hand and starts towing me towards the marble staircase
that leads up to the house. There must be some kind of motors powering the
front doors, which is convenient, because I don’t see a spare army around to
help out if we had to open them ourselves.
We walk inside and, predictably, the interior of the house is every bit as
impressive as the exterior. I stare open-mouthed at the quadruple-height
ceilings and the jaw-dropping skylight hanging over the foyer, atrium,
whatever the hell you call these monstrosities.
As Kirill directs us under the skylight, I notice a line of people standing off
to the side. All are dressed in uniform, their eyes fastened on the opposite
wall as though they’re scared to look directly at us.
“This is the staff. If you need anything, feel free to ask.”
Kirill then proceeds to introduce each one in turn. It’s a blur of names and
titles and responsibilities. A whole team of people that man the kitchen.
Another group that takes care of the housekeeping chores. Gardeners,
landscapers, maintenance for the plumbing and electrical and masonry and
on and on. I’m winded by the time Kirill finishes making the introductions.
He dismisses them with a wave of his hand and they file out, stone-faced
and mute.
“Geez. Are they people or robots?”
He smirks. “Ruslan’s grandfather was of the mindset that the help should be
seen and not heard. I guess it carried over through the generations.”
“Gross.”
“Ruslan!”
The smile drops off my face as Ruslan approaches from an arched
passageway in the corner. His smile looks forced, but then again, maybe
I’m overthinking. He spends a few minutes talking to the kids, answering
their questions and generally avoiding looking at me. Honestly, it’s the best-
case scenario.
I don’t think I can pretend today.
“How about a tour of the house?” Ruslan suggests.
“That’s not necessary,” I interject quickly. “Kirill’s already offered to show
us around.”
Kirill turns to me with an expression that seems to read, Why the fuck are
you putting me in the middle?
I send him back a look that hopefully conveys what I’m thinking, which is,
You owe me!
“Ruslan can come, too!” Caroline suggests.
Dammit. If only “seen and not heard” could be applied to the children as
well as the staff.
“That’s okay,” Ruslan demurs smoothly. “I have work to finish. If anyone
needs me, I’ll be in my office.”
“Probably have to take a train to get there,” I mutter under my breath.
Ruslan gives each kid a smile and disappears through the same passageway
he appeared from. It’s impressive that he managed to do the whole welcome
without ever once looking at me.
Not that I care.
It’s not like I want to look at him, either.
We spend the next hour touring the property with Kirill. He walks us around
all three floors while the kids argue over their favorite features. Reagan’s
particularly smitten with the spiral staircase that wraps around the glass-
and-bronze elevators. For Caroline, it’s the theater room that comes with its
own popcorn machine for each seat. Josh goes nuts when he discovers the
game room, which is equipped with a billiards table, dart board, foosball
set, and half a basketball court. All three kids fall in love with the indoor
pool.
As for me?
I just follow the rest of them around, feeling like an outsider. An imposter
in a world that has no room or use for me.
Except for the little life I’m growing right now.
Maybe this little life is the key. Maybe this baby can save us all. It’s a naïve
thought, one that puts a huge burden on my unborn child.
Some mother I’m shaping up to be.
“You’ve been quiet,” Kirill says from beside me as the kids run amuck in
the gardens. “You can’t avoid him forever, you know.”
“Really? ‘Cause you’ve just given us a tour of a nineteen-bedroom
labyrinth that says I can.”
Kirill smirks. “Trust me. He’ll find you.”
A shiver runs down my spine; I’m just not sure what it means. My feelings
are as confused as my future right now.
My new phone pings.
RUSLAN: My office. Now.
I hold my phone up so that Kirill can see the message. “He realizes he fired
me, right? I no longer have to be at his beck and call.”
Kirill smiles sympathetically. “Some friendly advice? Go to him. It’s easier
that way.”
“Pussy.”
Kirill rears back with a hand over his heart. “My goodness! The lady has
the mouth of a sailor.”
“Where’s his office?”
“West wing. It’s the blue door at the end of the corridor. You’ll know it
when you see it.”
“Keep an eye on the kids, okay?”
He gives me a cheeky little bow and I make my way through the mansion.
This place should come with map displays at regular intervals like a
shopping mall. Four wrong turns and two helpful maids later, I find myself
gawking at the blue door that Kirill mentioned.
Much as I hate to admit it, Kirill’s right: I can’t avoid Ruslan forever.
Though I sure as hell wouldn’t mind trying.
Come on, Emma. Just get it over with.
I don’t bother knocking. I just push the door open and find myself in an
office that feels hermetically sealed off from the rest of the house. The
whole space is spartan, cold, completely lacking in feeling or warmth.
It suits the man behind the desk.
“Sit.”
I flinch but I keep my tone light and breezy. “What, no ‘hello, Emma’? No
‘how are you, Emma?’”
“I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.” He pulls out a familiar stack
of papers. You have got to be kidding me. “Recognize this?”
“Oh, you mean the bane of my existence? How could I forget.”
He doesn’t react to that apart from flinging our signed contract onto his
table so that I can confirm that it is in fact the bane of my existence.
“I’m not signing anything else,” I warn.
He laughs cruelly. “What would it matter even if you did? We both know
you don’t honor your deals.”
“That is completely—”
He holds up his hand and, against all my better instincts, I find myself
shutting up. Sienna would never let herself be shut down like that.
“You’re not required to sign anything further. But what you have signed still
stands. The addendum to the contract still stands.”
I tense. “You mean—”
“You’re pregnant.” Something flashes across his eyes when he says it. “And
as the contract states, you will be provided for. Congratulations, Emma. You
got the security you were after.”
I grip the edges of my seat and bite down on my tongue. He’s making it
seem like I concocted some diabolical plan to screw him over. A big, evil,
mustache-twisting scheme to cheat him out of his money so that I can have
a cushy life.
Doesn’t he get it? This massive mansion, the surrounding grounds, all the
luxury—that’s not what I want. It was never what I wanted.
“Once the baby is born, you and the children will be moved to your own
estate. None of you will ever want for anything ever again. But let me make
one thing very clear: you are here in the capacity of a glorified surrogate.
You are the baby’s mother, but that is all. You will get the benefits of my
lifestyle. But you will not get me.”
With only a few words, he’s cut me down. I’m not a person anymore; I’m a
walking womb. An incubation chamber.
I am nothing more than a means to an end.
It hurts so bad I have to bite down to keep the tears from spilling over. No. I
will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Instead, I swallow my
pain and stare back at him with an expression that I hope is as cold as the
one he’s giving me right now.
Two can play at this game.
“I’d rather be separated now.”
He shrugs. “As much as I would prefer that, there are too many
unpredictable variables at play. The people behind Josh’s kidnapping are
still out there. For now, it’s better for you and the children to stay close. It’s
the safest. You can’t exactly afford to lose the baby. You’d be losing your
meal ticket, too.”
I flinch back, stunned by the casual cruelty. If I didn’t know any better, I’d
say he truly doesn’t care about me anymore.
And maybe I don’t know any better.
Maybe I don’t know any better at all.
“You’re right,” I hiss, springing to my feet and storming towards the door
before I lose the battle with my tears. “I wouldn’t want that.”

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 RUSLAN

A baby.
My baby.
It feels surreal. And overwhelming. And completely fucking inconvenient.
Was it so recently that I thought Emma was the answer to all my problems?
Despite everything that’s gone down, I don’t regret the pregnancy. I’m glad
Emma’s pregnant. And that alone is confusing as hell. I should want
nothing to do with her. I should want to move her into her own separate
residence immediately, just as she’d asked.
But what’s the point of an excuse if you don’t use it?
No matter how foolish it might be.
My mood is dark when Kirill walks in, looking as though he’s spent an hour
in the boxing ring. “Those girls,” he whistles. “They are a handful.”
“Babysitting again?”
Kirill collapses onto the leather sofa. “Someone has to.”
I ignore the subtle jab. “And Emma?”
“She came back from your rendezvous with a chip on her shoulder and
ushered the kids to their rooms. So I assumed she had a ball during your
little chat. No one else can inspire that kind of reaction.”
“Pregnant,” I spit in disgust. “How the hell did that slip past me?”
“Easy. Because you weren’t interested.”
“She should have told me herself.”
“Right, because you’re so easy to talk to,” he drawls.
“How exactly did she manage to wrap you around her little finger?”
Kirill chuckles. “She hasn’t wrapped me around anything. I simply decided
to believe her.”
I get up and walk around my desk. “You spy and steal and torture people for
a living, mudak. ‘Simply believing people’ is not in your job description.”
“I torture people who deserve it.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “She doesn’t
seem like the type of person to deceive intentionally. She didn’t tell you
about the baby because she didn’t think she could. And she’d have been
right.”
Is there anyone left on my side? I think irritably to myself.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I tried to tell you about the baby and you refused to listen.”
I drop down opposite him. “Say that again.”
“Remember the medical file I stole right after Emma checked into the
hospital? It was all there in black and white. Sonogram and all. I knew she
was pregnant and I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me get a word in
edgewise.”
Fuck.
“So what? You tried to tell; I didn’t listen. So you were prepared to let her
take my child and run from me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. She wasn’t running from you.”
I tense up. “Who else could she have been running from?”
“Ben.”
Somehow, I wasn’t expecting that. “Ben?”
“Who do you think gave her all those injuries?” Kirill asks with a skeptical
eyebrow.
“That was Ben?”
“Well, she didn’t just trip.”
I remember walking into the apartment and seeing the broken coffee table.
Fucker had pushed her right through the glass. No wonder she’d been cut
up all over.
Fucking bastard. My hands tighten into fists on my lap.
“He’s gonna pay for that.”
“I thought you didn’t care about Emma.” Kirill makes a big show of tapping
his lip like he’s deep in thought. “Why ever would you want to avenge a
woman you claim you have no feelings for?”
Thankfully, I have my answer locked and loaded. “Because she’s carrying
my child,” I snap.
“Right. What a satisfying, wholesome, extremely believable explanation.”
I don’t like that look on his face. It’s entirely too smug for my liking.
He sighs and continues, “I’ve already spoken to Judge Altemeyer. He’ll be
able to resolve the custody order soon enough. Convert Emma’s temporary
custody into permanent custody.”
“Good. Keep me in the loop.” I walk back to my desk and glare down at the
massive stack of resumes piled on top of it. “Now, I have to get back to
work.”
“That’s it?” Kirill asks, setting his feet back on the ground.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not going to talk to Emma?”
“I already did.” I rake a hand through my hair and exhale at the memory of
that frustrating exchange. “I told her where we stand. I explained how the
addendum will work going forward. There’s nothing else to discuss.”
Kirill looks disappointed in me. “Is this really the kind of environment you
want your kid growing up in, Ruslan?”
“What are you looking for us to be, Kirill? One big, happy family? Emma
shot that future to hell when she started running her mouth to Remmy
Jefferson.” He starts to talk but I hold my hand up to shut him up. “Before
you defend her, let me remind you that she’s the reason the contract is out
there in the ether, being leveraged for personal gain by that slimy little shit.
I trusted her once and look where that got me.”
“It got you a child? A family? The chance to carry on the family name?
Which one of those is supposed to be the bad thing?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Get out.”
He sighs and raises his hands in self-defense. “I’m going. Anything else
you need before I do?”
I pick up half the stack of papers on my desk and offer them to him. “Go
through these resumes and narrow it down for me. I have to hire someone
by the end of the week. Work’s piling up as we speak.”
“You know, Emma has experience with—”
“Get out.”
Giggling like a schoolgirl, he walks the resumes out of my office. I hadn’t
counted on Kirill doing a full one-eighty on me. He is the one person who
always has my back. I have no doubt he still does—in the important ways,
at least—but I can sense that he’s questioning my choices.
Yeah? Well, screw him. I know better.
And it’s better that I keep my distance from Emma Carson.
Things got out of hand there for a minute. I let my desire for her cloud my
better judgment. But now, I’m thinking clearly again. And this time, I
refuse to give in. Baby or not, she isn’t getting any part of me. Not my dick
or my heart or anything in between.
I’ve seen what happens when you give your heart to someone and they have
the gall to die and take it to the grave with them.
I don’t intend to repeat my father’s mistakes.

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 RUSLAN

A new contender for “bane of my existence” has taken the lead.

Temps.
I’ve had two already and both were complete failures. The first burst into
tears when I asked her to redo my schedule for the fourth time and the
second asked if she could have Thursdays and Fridays off because she
reached maximum efficiency on a three-day work week.
Suffice it to say, each had lasted only a handful of hours. I’m currently on
my third attempt and I’m already imagining all the different ways I could
murder her and make it look like an accident.
“Mr. Ruslan?” she chirps, careening into my office for what feels like the
dozenth time in the last hour. “Do you need anything? I’m just heading into
the lunchroom to grab some granola.”
I glare at her but somehow, she doesn’t get the message. Lack of brain cells
will do that.
“No.”
“Are you sure? The granola here is amazing. So many flavors, too! The
chocolate peanut butter is my fav—”
“Melissa,” I growl, “you need to stop talking. Now.”
“Are you in a meeting?”
My laptop is closed. My phone is sitting a foot away from me and there’s
no one else in the room. How can she possibly think I’m in a meeting now?
“Stop talking and walk away.”
She just smiles serenely. “In my experience, men are always extra crabby
on an empty stomach. I’ll bring you back some granola. It’ll help that mood
of yours.”
Now, she’s talking to me like I’m a child.
I really did have it good with Emma. Problem is, I wanted to fuck her, too.
If only I could turn back time and—
No. No, I’d still want to fuck her.
The door isn’t shut ten seconds before my witless new assistant bursts in
again. “Oh, and your friend is here to see you. He said his name was Alan
Something-or-other. I’ll just send him right in.”
“What? No. Melissa!”
Too late. She holds open the door—and Adrik fucking Makarov waltzes in
with a bottle of scotch wrapped in a red velvet ribbon.
“Why thank you, darling,” he croons to her.
“Of course!” She bats her eyelashes at Adrik and sashays off to eat her
weight in granola. I regret hiring her. I’d rather have the granola for an
assistant.
“New help?” Adrik asks as he places the scotch on my table and makes
himself comfortable.
“Not for long.”
He wrinkles up his nose. “Don’t tell me she’s a temp? What happened to
your pretty little assistant? What was her name again… ah that’s right,
Emma!”
Yeah, like he fucking forgot.
“She was quite the looker. Perky little ass. And her tits weren’t bad, either.”
My hand clenches into a fist but I force it under the table. I’m almost
positive Adrik is behind all the shady shit that’s gone down recently but
without proof, I can’t pin it on him. I need to play the long game until I get
enough information to make my move.
The fact that he’s come up clean so far is grating on my nerves. It only
reinforces my theory that there’s someone on the inside helping him.
Emma…?
No. Impossible. She wouldn’t—
Then again, she had betrayed me to Remmy. And who can forget that
intimate dance she had shared with Adrik the night of the Olsen-Ferber
gala?
There’s no way. She doesn’t have enough information herself to be able to
pass anything actionable along to Adrik. Her knowledge of Venera was
zilch until the night of the launch.
Focus.
“What do you want, Adrik?”
He smiles, the very picture of pleasantry. “Just wanted to express my
sympathies in person and give you a little ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out’
gift.”
I suppress the urge to grab his bottle of scotch and fling it at his head. “As
usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on. When will you stop acting coy and just admit that you’re
behind Venera?”
“I’m not.”
Adrik rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. Wink-wink. Nudge-nudge. Am I right?”
“Fucking hell. You and Melissa will get along great.”
He crosses one leg over the other and laughs. “I can’t fault your mood. I’d
be equally pissed if the drug I spent millions to develop ended up being a
colossal failure before it’s even launched. Dead on arrival. I heard that no
one is touching the samples anymore. Gives new meaning to the term ‘kiss
of death,’ am I right?”
I lean back in my seat. “Is this what you call sympathizing?”
“I’m not here only to sympathize—”
“Of course not.”
“I also wanted to thank you.” He hesitates—for dramatic effect, no doubt.
Maybe he’s just waiting for me to ask why he’s thanking me. Joke’s on him.
I don’t fucking care.
He clears his throat, irritated by my complete lack of interest. “I’m here to
thank you for inspiring me. I’ve decided to launch my own drug. Of course,
mine will actually work.”
Motherfucker.
It’s not like an illicit street drug can be patented. I’ll have no way of
stopping this if he decides to roll out his own brand.
“Let me guess?” I say, pretending to be bored. “Venera 2.0.”
He laughs, clearly high on his premature victory. “It’s called Sopernik.”
Sopernik. It means “rival” in Russian. A little on the nose, but then again,
I’d expect nothing less from Adrik. The fucker is grinning from ear to ear. It
would be so damn easy to shatter that smile with a bullet. Then I’d have
Melissa come in and clean the mess. That should make for a speedy
resignation letter.
Two birds. One stone.
“It’s a mild aphrodisiac that lowers your inhibitions. I’ve tried it myself and
it’s fucking brilliant. Makes you feel floaty and horny all at the same time.
It’s sure to be a hit.”
“What do you mean, ‘you’ve already tried it’? You’ve already got samples
up?”
He licks his lips. “It would have taken years of development, but I was
fortunate enough to stumble across this genius team who had experience
developing party drugs. So I paid them handsomely and put them to work in
my personal labs.” Adrik’s smile is starting to look unbalanced. “Ironic,
isn’t it? Just when you lose your chemist, I find a whole team of them!”
“‘Ironic’ is not the word I would use.”
“Oh, come now, my friend. You can be happy for me. It’s not every day you
stumble across a windfall like this.”
Unless, of course, you’ve worked to steal someone else’s.
“Word of advice, friend,” I growl, leaning over my desk to fix him with a
furious stare. “Watch your back. Success breeds envy and envy breeds
action. You should know that better than anyone.”
He blinks at me innocently. “Such wise words. I’ll be glad to share some of
my wisdom with you once I’ve launched Sopernik successfully.” He gets to
his feet and throws me a casual wink. “And say hello to Emma for me, will
you? Tell her I think about our dance often.”
He walks out while I imagine the day I can finally do away with the
pretense…
And slaughter the mudak once and for all.

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 EMMA

“A trampoline!” Reagan squeals.

She takes off at a run and Josh and Caroline zoom off behind her. I throw
Kirill a side glance. “Who says money can’t buy love, huh?”
Kirill chuckles. “That’s not what he’s doing.”
“Oh, no? Yesterday, it was a bounce castle on the lawn. This morning, it
was a zipline through the trees. Now, this? If he’s not trying to buy their
love, then he’s trying to overcompensate.”
“For what?”
“For not being around.”
“They’re not his kids. He doesn’t have to be around.”
Kirill is right. But it still pisses me off. I skewer him with a glare, then turn
and start stomping back towards the house.
I hear his footsteps come up behind me. “Whoa, Emma. Hold up. I’m sorry.
That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”
I clench my teeth, but I let him draw me to a stop. “It’s accurate, though. He
isn’t their father. They shouldn’t be caught in the middle of all this misery.”
Kirill exhales and looks over at the kids. They’re all trying to do back flips
on the huge trampoline and laughing hysterically, even Josh. “Yeah, they
look utterly miserable.”
“Whatever. You’re his man. Of course you’re gonna see his side and only
his side.”
“That’s not fair. He’s my priority, sure. But that doesn’t mean you and I
can’t be friends.”
I frown. “Is this you overcompensating for the fact that I’m not allowed to
talk to my only friend?”
“We just want to be safe here, Emma.” Kirill rubs his chin and sighs. I’m
sure he’s as sick of giving this explanation as I am of hearing it. “The more
information Phoebe has about you, the more of a target she becomes.”
“Right. Spare me the lecture. Bottom line is, I’m completely isolated with
no one to talk to.”
“You can talk to me.”
“So you can go give Ruslan a full report? C’mon. I’m not stupid, Kirill.”
“You two belong together,” he mumbles. “You’re as paranoid as he is.”
“Does he think I’m up to no good?” I demand. “Spying for someone else
now, I suppose. Probably the government. Or Mossad. Maybe some rival
Bratva don?”
“Pahkan.”
“Whatever.”
He smirks. “I’m not reporting on you to Ruslan.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.” I immediately regret my snark. I
can’t exactly afford to alienate Kirill. Not when I have so few people to talk
to here. Not when he’s the one helping me get custody of the kids. “I’m
sorry… I’m being a bitch. It’s the hormones.”
“Yeah, you better milk that excuse while you can.”
I can’t quite suppress my smile. “Do you know what’s going on with Ben,
by the way?”
The laughter vanishes from Kirill’s face. He’s all fun and games at first
glance, but beneath that is a stone-cold killer who doesn’t like Ben any
more than the rest of us do. “He’s lying low for the moment. I don’t think
he understands why or how he’s being snowballed. All the momentum he
gained with that CNN interview fizzled out overnight.”
Take that, you bastard.
“He’s hit the bottle pretty hard,” he adds.
“Predictable,” I snort. It must be nice to have a coping mechanism available
for the price of a six-pack at the corner store.
“But,” adds Kirill, “your parents are another story entirely.”
My eyes snap to his. “My parents?”
“Your old phone has a ton of messages and missed calls from a Barrett
Carson and a Beatrice Carson. I’m an espionage genius, so I put two and
two together.”
I groan. “Oh, God. I need to deal with that.”
“I’m inclined to agree. Just convince them that you have the situation under
control. Don’t mention anything about Ruslan or Remmy or… anything
else.”
“Duh. Even if there wasn’t a legitimate reason, I’d still be hiding shit from
my parents.”
He leans against a wall and folds his arms as he regards me with a
sympathetic look. “So I take it you’re not particularly close with them?”
“Sienna was my family. Barrett and Beatrice were basically just our rich
patrons. And when they didn’t get what they wanted from us, they cut us
off. Financially, that is. They thought it would have a much bigger impact
than it did.”
“Losing their money didn’t scare you?”
“It did,” I say with a shrug. “For about five minutes. But we both had jobs
and an actual work ethic. Neither one of us was scared to make our own
way. And we had each other. That helped.”
His eyes never leave my face. “It must be hard losing a sibling.”
“It’s the hardest.” The way he asks the question makes me curious. “Have
you lost a sibling?”
“No, but Ruslan has. I saw how hard that was for him.”
“You were there for that, huh?” He shrugs and looks away. Something tells
me he regrets bringing it up in the first place. “Did you know Leonid?”
“Not very well. Ruslan and I only really became friends after… it
happened.”
I’m dying to ask more, to know more. But he’s shutting down on me
already. “Kirill—”
“You should give your parents a call. We don’t need them stirring the pot,”
he says abruptly.
I scowl. “Seriously? I can’t talk to Phoebe, but this is allowed?”
He smiles like it’s just another day. “This is work. Damage control.”
“You’re really annoying, y’know that?” I stick my tongue out at him.
“Oh, real mature.”
“It’s the hormones,” I say prettily.
Laughing, he heads off towards the right and I go into the main living room
to get the dreaded phone call done with it.
“Hi, Mom,” I greet without enthusiasm when she picks up.
“Emma? Emma?”
Obviously, yes! Who else calls her “Mom” anymore?
“Yeah, it’s me,” I say, weary already. “It’s Emma.”
“Emma Lorraine Carson. For God’s sake! What the bloody hell is wrong
with you?”
Not exactly what I was expecting. But also, not not what I was expecting,
either.
“You want the short list or the long one?”
“Don’t make jokes. Not now!”
“When then?”
She ignores that. “Your father and I have been worried sick. Ben has been
worried sick. For you to take those children like you did… He’s their
father!”
She’s shrieking so loud that she’s hurting my ear. I do a quick check to
determine no one’s around—no need to subject myself to shame on multiple
fronts—and then I put her on speakerphone.
“Are you even interested in why I took the children?”
“There is no excuse. Absolutely none. We covered for you with the media,
but I knew. I knew the moment Ben called us, absolutely frantic over his
children—”
“Oh, please, don’t tell me you two actually fell for that dog and pony
show.”
“Emma Lorr—”
“Stop using my full name like I’m a daughter you have the right to scold,” I
interrupt coldly. “You were never a parent when I needed one. There’s no
point in starting now.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line.
“What has gotten into you lately?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean that you’ve been even more dismissive, abrasive, rude, and
detached than you usually are.”
I can practically hear Sienna hissing in my ear. This bitch…
“That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the queen of detachment parenting.
In fact, you should write a book. Ignoring Your Children for the First
Eighteen Years of Their Lives and Criticizing Them for the Rest of It: A
How-to Manual by Beatrice Carson. Foreword by Satan.”
“I’m not going to listen to this garbage,” she sniffs. “Not when you are the
one who’s committed the crime. Those children should be with their father.”
“Interesting. Because, not so long ago, you made me an offer to leave the
children in your custody. You didn’t think they needed their father then.”
“We were just trying to do what was best for those kids—”
“And I’m not?”
“No!” I actually flinch away from the phone at the volume of her shriek. “It
doesn’t seem like you care about those children at all. Every decision
you’ve made has come from a place of pride and selfishness. Honestly,
Sienna is probably rolling in her grave. Her children couldn’t possibly be
with a worse guardian.”
I suck in a breath. Some words hurt worse than others, even when you
wrote off the person speaking them years ago. I don’t care what my mother
thinks about me or anything else. I haven’t for a very long time. And yet,
suddenly, I’m the same seven-year-old girl who stood in front of my
mother, offering up the canvas I’d spent hours on, only to be told that I
“didn’t have the talent for painting.”
I open my mouth to defend myself but nothing comes out. I can’t even think
of what to say. The only thing running through my head is…
What if she’s right?
“Those children deserve better than the life you’ve given them,” my mother
seethes. “With you, they can only ever have a mediocre life. That made
sense for you—after all, mediocre life for a mediocre person.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, my limbs frozen in place. With one click, I
can silence her for good. But the masochist in me refuses to follow through.
“At least Sienna’s not around to see the shambles you have made of her
children’s lives. At least…”
I notice movement from the corner of my eye. Gasping, I jerk around,
hoping it’s not one of the kids. It’s not.
It’s Ruslan.
He’s standing under one arched passageway, his eyes fixed on me. Oh God
—he heard. He heard everything.
His glare is harsh, but I have no idea what he’s thinking. And then he makes
it clear what he’s thinking when he walks down the passage and disappears
around the corner.
He doesn’t care. This is not his business anymore.
Message received, loud and clear.
My mother is still hurling more verbal abuse at me. And I just sit there and
take it, shaking with silent tears. Because I no longer have the fight left in
me to do anything else…
And deep down, I’m terrified that everything she’s accusing me of is true.

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

I’m patrolling the halls in the East Wing. It’s not even remotely in my job
description and yet here I am, walking quietly down corridors that now
belong to Emma and the kids.
I can smell her on the carpets and the walls. That faint citrus smell that
haunts the air.
Shoes lie haphazardly on all sides of the broad passageway and wayward
toys are scattered like breadcrumbs leading to the playroom. A piece of
paper hangs off my textured Venetian walls, secured there with… what the
fuck is that?
Chewing gum?
Oh, hell fucking no.
I tear the paper free of the wall and then spend the next few minutes trying
to scrape off the blue gunk that was holding it there. When it’s as good as I
can get it, I glance down at the canvas. From the colorful scribblings, I’d
wager this is Reagan’s handywork. She’s all about rainbows and unicorns
these days. A typical five-year-old. In a very atypical setting.
Forget the handwoven Persian rug that lines the passageway; forget the bold
Tuscan paintings on the walls—this is a work of art.
I fold the picture up carefully and slip it into my pocket for safekeeping.
Then I continue down the hall, trying to remember all the other scents I’d
been partial to before my senses were invaded with notes of endless citrus.
I’m deep in my own thoughts when I hear something.
Screaming.
“Aaaarghhh. No. No. Please…. Ahh!”
Panic surges through my body. That scream is immediately recognizable.
Josh.
And then I’m running. I’m running faster than I’ve ever run in my life.
Whoever breached through all the layers of security I’ve wrapped around
this estate is gonna get a gold medal for doing the impossible and getting
inside.
Right before I tear him apart—limb from goddamn limb.
I burst into the boy’s room with my fists at the ready. But all I see is a
frightened child writhing around in his bed.
It’s not an invader.
It’s a nightmare.
He’s still thrashing in place when I approach his bed, his face scrunched up
with anxiety. He’s sweating right through the bedding. I put my hand on
arm and give him a firm shake. He gasps, jerking upright, his arms flailing
in every direction.
“It’s okay. It’s just me. Ruslan.”
He pushes against my hold for a couple of seconds, still struggling in the
thicket of his nightmare. I have to keep repeating myself before his eyes
finally blink away the sleep and focus on me.
“R-Ruslan?” His voice is cracked with fear but there’s relief muddled in
there, too. “S-sorry,” is the second thing out of his mouth.
“Why are you apologizing?”
He wraps his arms around himself. “I-I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I
usually don’t.”
I frown. “Josh, how often do you have these nightmares?”
The whites of his eyes are prominent in the gloom. “Most nights,” he
admits, dropping his face down low.
Why didn’t Emma tell me about this? I’m so pissed off that the veins in my
forearms bulge in protest. A part of me is aware that my anger is irrational.
Kinda like it was two days ago when I overheard Emma’s conversation with
her mother.
I stood in the archway, eavesdropping unrepentantly as her mother tore into
her about being a bad guardian and not putting the children first. At first,
she fought back. But then, the more her mother yelled, the more Emma
basically shut down. It was like she believed all the vile things her bitch of
a mother was spouting. It was like she felt she had to sit there and take it.
Then there was the moment Emma turned and noticed me standing there. I
wanted to fucking roar at her: Why aren’t you fighting back? Why aren’t you
defending yourself? Don’t you see how wrong she is?
But that look in her eyes—that hopeless, lost look—was too much to take.
It was in danger of pulling me back in and I couldn’t let that happen. Not
again.
I’m done being her savior. Or as Reagan liked to say, her knight in silver
armor. She’s already in my home, taking up space, breathing my air. That
has to be enough.
Hell, even that feels like too much.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I ask the boy. He shakes his head, his eyes
softening. I dab his sweaty brow with the back of my hand. “Your aunt
didn’t tell me you were having these nightmares.”
His eyes go wide. “No, Ruslan! You can’t tell her. She doesn’t know.”
So she doesn’t know. Somehow, that doesn’t make me any less angry with
her.
“Please,” he continues. “Please. You can’t tell her.”
His panic seems as irrational as my anger. “Josh, I think she should—
“No!” he insists adamantly. “No, I don’t want her to know. It’ll only make
her more sad and she’s already sad enough lately.” That gives me pause.
Josh plows onward, clearly worried that he hasn’t convinced me enough.
“She’ll only worry about me and I don’t want her to worry.”
“She’s the parent, Josh. You’re the child. You’re not supposed to be the one
protecting her.”
His forehead scrunches up. He looks less like a child now. I see the lines of
the man he’ll become already sketched in his face. “You don’t get it. You
weren’t there.”
“Josh—”
“Everyone always leaves us!” he interrupts. “Mom died and Dad… Dad
doesn’t care about any of us. Aunt Emma didn’t have to l-look after us but
she did. Dad was supposed to s-send us to school and buy us new shoes and
books but Aunt Emma is the one who did that. Dad was supposed to make
our dinners and put us to bed and, for a while, he did. But when he stopped,
Aunt Emma did that, too. She’s always d-doing things for us. Even though
she doesn’t have t-to. Even when she was w-w-working really late, she
would figure out ways to do things for us. Like l-leave us little notes in our
lunchboxes. Or pick us up from school early and take us to the p-park.”
The stammer is new. No guesses needed for why it’s popping up now. But
as I listen to his speech, I can’t help but marvel at how much this eight-
year-old has observed. He’s noticed every sacrifice Emma has made along
the way. The work that’s supposed to be invisible to children.
She didn’t have to do any of it. She had the option of being the weekend
aunt. The one who popped her head in once a week with presents and kind
words. She had parents who were more than willing to take on all three
children.
But she decided that they weren’t good enough to raise Josh and his sisters.
And, based on that phone call alone, she was very fucking right.
“Please, Ruslan?” Josh begs. “Don’t tell Aunt Em.”
I grimace. “Okay. But that means you and I are gonna have to work on a
solution together. We can get some night lamps installed in here.”
Josh chews on his bottom lip. “I don’t think that’ll help.”
“What do you think will help then?”
His eyes flicker to mine. “Boxing? We haven’t really done any more lessons
since the… the k-k-kidnapping. I think I wanna start again.”
He’s not laying blame at my feet and yet I feel so guilty. I’ve been so
distracted by my anger lately that I let his boxing lessons fall to the
wayside. It’s just another example of the people in his life leaving him. The
fact that Emma is the only constant, the only one who’s stayed through it
all, makes me feel deeply ashamed of my own choices since I found out
about what she’d done.
“I’m sorry, Josh. I shouldn’t have stopped our lessons. Of course we can
continue them, if that’s what you want.”
He nods emphatically. “I want to be able to defend m-m-myself.” His
cheeks redden as he fights his new obstacle. “I d-d-don’t want to be s-s-
scared all the time.”
I nod, refusing to address it unless Josh does. “We’ll start tomorrow. Early
morning.”
“What about Aunt E-Emma?”
“We don’t need to tell Aunt Emma,” I assure him. “This can be our little
secret.”
He gives me a small, grateful smile and some of the tension eases out of his
jaw. “Thank you.”
That soft little voice catches in my chest. It stays there. “Why don’t you try
sleeping now, Josh?”
He lies back down but his eyes are still wide and alert. “Ruslan?”
“Yes.”
“Can you stay with me… until I fall asleep?”
And that’s how I end up curled on the side of Josh’s bed, watching the boy’s
eyes flutter shut. It fills me with this vague sense of purpose. But there’s
fear, too.
Is this the rest of my life?
No. After the baby is born, Emma and the kids will be moved to their own
estate. I won’t be tasked with being the nightmare watchman. I won’t be
watching them go to sleep every night.
Soon, they’ll be gone for good. That should give me some relief.
But it doesn’t.

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 19

OceanofPDF.com
 EMMA

I shouldn’t be telling him about the appointment. It’s none of his business.
And I don’t even want him there.
So then explain to me why I am currently ambling along through the
confusing mess of pathways and rooms in search of Ruslan so that I can
inform him of my next doctor’s visit.
Just trying to save myself some drama down the line. That’s all this is. I
don’t want an excuse to see him. I’m simply being mature here.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the hot-as-sin dream I had about Ruslan
last night. It involved a hot oil massage, followed by very intense foreplay. I
woke up in the gray of the pre-dawn having soaked through my panties.
I ask one of the maids I run into if she’s seen Ruslan anywhere and she
points me in the direction of the gym. It took me a couple of days to figure
out that Kirill’s house tour when we first arrived had excluded the west
wing—which just so happens to be Ruslan’s side of the house.
I take a petty pride in stepping right over that imaginary line in the sand.
The color palette shifts as I venture from our wing to his. It hardens,
neutralizes. Less blue and green, more tan and gray. I come up to the gym
and it takes some pushing to get the door open.
If I were someone who was remotely interested in gyms, I might have been
impressed. As it stands, the space doesn’t do much for me.
The man on the other end of the gym however… hot damn.
He’s wearing a pair of black nylon shorts and nothing else. He’s got boxing
gloves on and he’s railing hard on a punching bag suspended from the
ceiling by a thick metal chain. With every powerful punch, the chain
groans, the bag swings and his back muscles ripple with power.
I wouldn’t mind being that punching bag if it means getting pounded like
that.
I cringe at myself. Seriously. These hormones are out of control. It’s one
thing to be ogling him in my dreams; it’s an entirely different thing to be
objectifying him in real life.
I never thought I’d actually prefer the morning sickness phase. No shame in
that game. This phase however… It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch. I tried
scratching it myself last night after I woke up from that very vivid dream
but, even after I’d gotten off, I was left feeling hollow and dissatisfied.
The solution is obvious—I need an actual penis. Preferably one that is
attached to a hot-blooded man. This hot-blooded man, to be specific. But
since that isn’t gonna be happening anytime soon, I’m gonna have to make
do with a silicone substitute if I can get my hands on one.
Hm, how inappropriate would it be to put that on my food cravings list for
Kirill?
Yeah. Very.
I’ll have to figure out a way to order some special toys for myself without
either Kirill or Ruslan finding out. Until then, I’ll just have to satisfy myself
with the eye candy on display right now.
“Whatcha looking at?”
I clap my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream as I whirl around to find
Kirill at my side.
He smirks. “Enjoying the view, are we?”
I glower at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just… I wasn’t looking at… I
just came to… Shut up.”
He pretends to back out of the room slowly. “Is there something I can help
you with or do you wanna just ogle Ruslan some more?”
“I was not. And also—shh!” His face is going red from the need to laugh.
“Seriously, Kirill. Stop drawing attention. He’s gonna turn around and—oh,
fuck, he’s coming—will you stop giggling?”
Ruslan stalks towards us, eyes narrowing. There are only two looks he
gives me these days: suspicion and irritation. Today’s glare is a fun little
blend of the two. I don’t mind, though—I’m a little distracted by the eight-
pack abs staring me in the face.
“He doesn’t own a shirt?” I say under my breath.
“Kirill. Find out what she wants.” Ruslan’s whip-sharp voice carries across
the gym.
Kirill turns to me. “I assume you’re here for a reason. Unless that reason is
to be bent over the bench press?”
“Asshole,” I mutter. “I’m just checking to see if King Douche Bag is
interested in coming to my doctor’s appointment this evening.”
“I will go and see.” Kirill saunters off, leaving me standing at the doorway
with the vast no-man’s-land of gym equipment between us.
It’s a sad state of affairs when you need a go-between to speak to your baby
daddy. From here, I can’t decipher Ruslan’s expression. The slight furrow
between his brows persists through his entire conversation with Kirill. It
lasts longer than I expect to. At one point, I wonder if they’re arguing, but
when Kirill walks back over to me, he seems as good-natured as ever.
“He’ll be there.”
“Oh. Okay.” I sneak a glance past Kirill’s shoulder. Ruslan has moved on to
the bench press and suddenly, Kirill’s cheeky suggestion from earlier
doesn’t sound quite so bad.
Escape, girl, begs my inner wise woman’s voice. Get your horny ass away
from the potential scene of the crime.
But those muscles hold me captive for a moment. He’s absolutely
manhandling that barbell. Maybe I should offer myself up instead…?
Abort. Flee. Run for your life.
Kirill passes me a towel from a nearby shelf. “Here you go.”
“What is this for?” I ask as I take it.
“For the drool running down the side of your mouth.”
I fling the towel at his face and get the hell out of the gym before I
embarrass myself further. I need to get on that special order of mine.
And fast.

“Is this your first?”

I blink up at the doctor. I haven’t been paying a whole lot of attention to this
appointment so far. Mostly because of the surly shadow in the far corner of
the room. I’m not sure why he decided to be here at all, because he’s spent
most of the appointment on his phone. Apart from greeting the doctor with
a curt nod, he hasn’t looked up once.
Never thought I’d be jealous of a screen.
“Sorry?”
When Dr. Owens smiles, his warm brown eyes wrinkle at the edges. He
looks like he really means that smile.
“I asked if this is your first baby.”
“Yes. I mean, uh, no.” Dr. Owens frowns in Ruslan’s direction as though
my distraction is his fault. Which it is, so the good doctor is right on the
money there. “Well, technically, it’s my first baby. But I’ve got three other
kids that I inherited from my sister.”
“Wow. Full house then.”
I try to concentrate on the doctor and ignore the fact that Ruslan just
accepted a call. Right in the middle of my appointment. He doesn’t even
bother to leave the room—just moves further into the corner and turns his
back on both of us.
“I have five girls myself.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, wow.”
“The youngest is seventeen. She’s leaving for Columbia next fall. Honestly,
it’s making my wife and I wish we had more. You probably hear this a lot,
but enjoy this time. It goes by fast.”
Smiling, I wonder how different my life would have been if Cedric Owens,
MD, had been my father. He looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t care
about your grade point average just as long as you were happy. Who’d brag
about you just because you’re his kid, not because you’d done anything
special. Who hates the idea of you leaving the nest, not because he’s losing
control, but simply because he’ll miss you.
I wouldn’t know anything about a man like that.
He turns back to the monitor. “Well, back to business. It looks like
everything is progressing beautifully. The baby is strong and healthy.”
My gaze flickers to Ruslan, wondering if he heard that. He’s still looking
down at his phone.
“Emma, dear.” Dr. Owens pulls me back with a gentle pat on my arm.
“Look at the screen. There’s your baby.”
I try to breathe through my budding tears. Half of them are for the beautiful
little blob on the screen right now. The other half is for the man sitting as
far away from me as he possibly can. At least he’s actually looking at the
screen now.
“The baby’s healthy?” Ruslan asks Dr. Owens in a bored rumble.
“Yes. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Good. Then I’m no longer needed here.” I sit up a little straighter. He’s my
ride—where the hell does he think he’s going? Ruslan throws me only a
cursory glance. “Once you finish up the appointment, Boris will be waiting
outside to drive you back to the estate.”
He’s not even gonna drive me back?
Before I can find my voice and ask, he stalks out of the room. But even
when he’s gone, his bad vibes linger. I collapse back against the
examination chair and try to squeeze my tears back into their ducts.
“Emma, sweetheart, are you okay?”
I force a smile onto my face. “A-okay, Doc.”
Only, of course I’m not. How can I be, when the man I’m gonna have a
baby with thinks the absolute worst of me? I’ve tried not to care but that’s
proving to be the challenge of my life. Every day, I wake up and try not to
care, and every day, I lose.
“Can I have a couple of copies of the sonogram please?”
“Of course. I’ll get that printed for you straightaway.”
Phoebe’s gonna want a copy. And who knows? Maybe Ruslan will decide
he wants one, too. I’ll keep extras on hand just in case he decides that being
a father is more important than punishing me.
But I’m not gonna hold my breath.

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

“Yes!” I roar. “That’s the way to do it!”

I’ve been training the kid again for two weeks now and he’s picked up right
where we left off. His right hook is really coming along. It kindles an old
excitement, the same exhilarated sense of accomplishment that I felt in my
early boxing days when I was still learning.
Back when Leonid was my teacher.
Every now and then during our training sessions, I hear my brother’s voice
in my head and his words come out of my mouth.
I was the second son; I knew I would never be as important to the Bratva as
him, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to be important to him.
And I knew I was, every time he took time out of his own training to come
and spend a few hours in the gym with me. I adopted his boxing style. I
copied his fighting techniques. I trained just as religiously as he did.
It wasn’t about competing with him.
It was about making him proud.
I thought I had to earn it. It’s not until this moment, with Josh, that I realize
how pointless my attempts were. I never had to try to earn Leonid’s love.
He would have been proud of me either way.
“Good man. Let’s take a break now.”
Josh lowers his fists reluctantly. “I can go another round.”
I can’t help grinning. The kid’s got both heart and determination. I pat his
shoulder and gesture for him to take a seat on the benches. “You need to
rest your body, too. No point overexerting yourself. Drink some water.”
I toss him a bottle and grab one myself. I’ve had a few thoughts percolating
in my head these past few days. The more time I spend with Josh, the more
impressed I am by him. He doesn’t just have the makings of a leader; he’s
got the heart of a fighter, too. He may not have been born Bratva, but this
child is Bratva through and through.
Training him with that in mind might not be the worst thing to do.
Of course, Emma would freak out. But I’m okay with that. Anything to
make her pay. And I have been doing my best on that front.
It’s a subtle kind of vengeance, though I’ve found in my life that subtlety is
often overrated. I keep my distance from her more often than not and I
make sure, when we do spend time together, that I don’t do anything to
disturb the kids.
It’s when we are alone together that the gloves come off.
I make sure she knows just how pissed I am to be forced into a corner with
her. I stare at my screen. I glower and snarl and keep my words to a
growled minimum.
I’m waiting for the day when I stop having to force myself to do all those
things.
Because the truth is that I stare at my phone to avoid staring at her. I glower
and growl because if I let her in even an inch, I’m going to lose the battle
with myself. I’m going to take her back into my bed, my heart, my life, and
if I do that, I risk going through what my father went through.
It doesn’t help that she barely reacts to me anymore. She keeps her own
feelings bottled up tight and out of reach. Even when I’m cruel to her, she
doesn’t react apart from a half-flinch or a fraction of a frown. Maybe she
doesn’t actually care. Maybe she’s pretending, just like I am.
Either way, I find myself wanting to grab her and shake her. Wake up, I
want to yell. Fight back.
“Ruslan?” Josh asks, breaking through my tangled thoughts. “When are we
going back to school?”
I cringe. Emma brought up this same topic a few days back after the kids
had been out of school for the third week in a row.
I concentrate on Josh. “Soon. There’s just one catch: you’re not going back
to the same school.”
Josh does a double-take. “Really?”
“Yeah. Does that sound okay to you?”
“Yeah. I never really liked the school we were in.” He shrugs when he sees
me arch a questioning brow. “I didn’t wanna say anything because I didn’t
wanna make Aunt Em feel bad about it.”
This kid… I don’t know what the hell is wrong with his father. If I had a son
like this, I’d scream it from the fucking rooftops.
“Well, I’m here now. You don’t have to worry about things like money
anymore. I’ll take care of you and your sisters.”
“Aunt Em, too?” he asks tentatively.
“Of course,” I say in as neutral a voice as possible. I have to dig my nails
into my palm to keep from grimacing.
“Why do we need to change schools, though?”
“I need to make sure you and your sisters are protected. This place I’ve
chosen for you is safe.”
“So… no one will be able to get to us? Even Dad?”
“Not even your father,” I assure him.
Josh sighs. “Okay then.”
I knew Josh hated his father but this is the first time that I’ve detected a hint
of fear. “Is there something you wanna tell me about your dad?”
“No.”
His answer comes a little too fast for my liking. “Josh. You can tell me
anything.”
“I…” His cheeks flush with color and even his ears go red. “I… I feel bad.”
“About what?”
He sneaks a quick glance at me and his ears only get redder. “I don’t want
you to hate me.”
I place a huge hand on his shoulder. “Listen carefully. There is absolutely
nothing that would ever make me hate you. Trust me on that.”
Josh gulps. Then he fixes his gaze on the black leather heavy bag in the
corner and starts talking. “He used to make me steal from Aunt Emma.
Take money out of her purse ‘n’ stuff. When I refused, he would…
Sometimes, he would h-hit m-me.” He swallows again, his eyes shifting
around the gym as though they don’t know where to land.
And as for me? I’m talking myself calm. Breathe. Sit. Because if I don’t
win that internal battle, I’m gonna storm out of here, track down that
useless fuck, and beat him until he’s nothing but a bloodstain beneath my
shoe.
This isn’t the moment for that, though.
This is a moment for the boy.
“After a while, I stopped helping him, even when he hit me or pushed me
around. But then he said he would do things to Rae and Caro.”
My vision goes red.
“I hated doing it,” he continues. “I hated stealing from Aunt Emma. She
worked so hard and she trusted me. B-but… I—”
“You were trying to protect your sisters,” I help him out. “There’s no shame
in that, Josh. You have nothing to feel bad about. Not a goddamn thing, do
you understand?”
“But… I did a bad thing. So many times.”
“No—you did what you had to do to survive.” Maybe Emma did, too. I
push that thought away and focus on the tremulous eight-year-old. “Thanks
for trusting me with this, kid. That takes courage.”
He gives me a shy smile. “Thanks for training me. I know that you’re busy.
And that you’re important. It means a lot that you… that you want to spend
time with me.”
For fuck’s sake, is that a lump in my throat? I can’t remember the last time I
felt choked up with emotion. Not since Leonid died.
“I’m really glad you and Aunt Emma are having a baby together,” he adds.
I give him a shaky smile. For the first time in a long time, possibly in my
entire life, I have no clue what to say.

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 EMMA

Usually, I wake up to two little monkeys jumping on my bed. Today,

however—silence.
It’s glorious. So glorious in fact that it feels too good to be true. Where are
the girls? Are they okay? Or should I be more worried about the destruction
they’re no doubt wreaking on the house?
I end up ruining my peaceful sleep-in by worrying myself awake. I shower
fast, dress faster, and sweep my way next door to the girls’ room.
It’s empty.
I follow my instincts into the kitchen. I hear them before I see them, their
little voices raised in excitement.
“I want maple syrup on mine!” Caroline proclaims.
“I want chocolate syrup on mine!” That’s Reagan, of course. The kid’s a
fiend when it comes to chocolate. I swear her veins are straight-up
Hershey’s at this point.
“Don’t worry; we have both.”
I’m just about to enter the kitchen when I hear his voice and freeze. I was
expecting Kirill, not Ruslan. I hang back and peek in tentatively. I spy Josh
just outside the French doors, sitting on one of the deck chairs with a book.
He looks pretty tired, considering it’s only 8:30 in the morning.
The girls, however, look like little Energizer bunnies. They’re both propped
up on the breakfast stools surrounding the marble countertops. Ruslan is
standing in front of them at the stove, flipping pancakes on a griddle.
I groan inwardly. He’s flipping pancakes now? It’s bad enough that he’s got
muscles of steel and a face that could make angels weep. Does he have to
be a pancake artist, too?
One visual sweep of the kitchen makes it obvious that he whipped them up
from scratch, too. My pancakes come from a box. No one’s ever accused
me of being an overachiever.
I’m trying to figure out how I can gracefully slip away and leave them to it
when Rae spots me.
“Auntie Em!” she cries. “We’re making pancakes!”
I plaster a fake smile onto my face and walk towards the girls. “They smell
amazing.”
I’m not even pretending. They actually smell mouthwatering. I spot whole
vanilla beans on the counter next to long cinnamon sticks.
“How about a cup of tea?” I do a double take. Did Mr. High and Mighty just
deign to speak to me? Based on the fact that he’s looking right at me, I’m
forced to conclude that he did.
“Oh, er, nah, don’t worry about it.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You need to get something in your system. And your
stomach has been off lately. Tea will help settle it.”
I just nod uncertainly while he proceeds to get me a cup of tea. He’s treating
me nicely right now but I don’t trust it. This is only because the kids are
here and he doesn’t want them to see what a giant douche he is.
But even though I know he’s faking it, I still find myself leaning into it. Just
a little. Just a very, very little bit. It’s nice to be looked after, that’s all. To
not have to get your own tea in the morning, to have someone ask what you
want for a change.
The thing is, I know he’s capable of it. He spent months taking care of me
and the kids. Sometimes, it was subtle, like the time he insisted on fixing
the coffee table before a game of Jenga because he “refused to have his
victory compromised by faulty furniture.” Other times, it was obvious, like
when he bought the kids new shoes and refused to let me pay him back for
them.
He’s a good man. I’ve seen that firsthand. Which is why this part is so hard.
Seeing the way his eyes harden when they find mine, the way he stiffens
instantly as though he’s forced to be constantly alert around me… The
familiarity and the intimacy that took us months to build has been torn
down so fast I still can’t quite believe it’s gone.
Sometimes, I hate him for refusing to believe me.
Other times, I can see it from his perspective.
Most of the time, I just want him to hold me like he used to.
“Here’s your tea,” he says, interrupting my stream of thoughts.
It smells like chocolate when I lift it to my lips. I raise my gaze to his, but
he looks away almost immediately. It’s a clear reminder: just because he’s
being nice to me doesn’t mean he’s forgiven me.
He has to tolerate me because of the precious cargo I’m carrying.
Glorified surrogate right here. His words, not mine.
“Thank you.”
“Ruslan, I changed my mind!” Reagan announces with that cheeky grin of
hers. “I want a yellow dress like Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
He just flips another pancake onto the already large stack in front of him.
“Yellow it is, Princess Rae.”
“What’s this about a dress?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Ruslan’s gonna get us princess dresses,” Rae replies with a solemn look to
let me know just how serious this negotiation is.
I frown. “Why?”
Both girls look at me as though I’ve just asked the world’s stupidest
question. “Because we want to be princesses, Aunt Em.” The “duh” is
implied.
“Yeah,” agrees Caro. “We’re gonna play dress up.”
“Is that really necessary? Just use your imaginations. You don’t need
princess dresses.” I turn to Ruslan. “You don’t have to do this.”
He shrugs me off. “I want to.” Then he deposits a short stack of pancakes
onto two plates and slides them over to the girls. “Eat up.”
I can only shake my head in amazement. How did I lose all authority in a
matter of days?
“Ruslan, can we eat outside in the garden with Josh?” Caroline pleads.
The moment Ruslan okays it with a single gruff nod, they’re off, leaving me
to deal with the broody pancake maker whose expression has twisted into a
stiff grimace.
“You know,” I warn, “if you give those girls an inch, they’ll take a mile.”
He starts clearing up the counters, which has the undoubtedly intended
benefit of keeping his back to me. “They’ve been through a lot and they’re
good kids. They deserve this.”
I can’t exactly disagree with that. “Here, let me help clean up.”
He yanks the batter bowl away from me with a speed that can only be
interpreted as insulting. “Not necessary. I can handle it.”
I sigh and relent. I know how this story ends. So instead, I concentrate on
my delicious, chocolate-infused tea. It’s so good it almost makes up for the
fact that I can’t drink coffee. My gaze veers towards the French doors. The
girls have ventured further into the garden. I can spot them in the distance,
sitting on the grass with their legs crossed and their plates balancing on
their laps. Josh is walking over to them now, his shoulders hunched.
“Josh seems so tired lately.” I’m just thinking out loud here, although I
should know better than that by now. Thinking out loud is dangerous when
you’re with certain people.
“He needs a therapist.”
The crackle in his voice has me turning back towards the kitchen. His
glower has gotten more intense—which only pisses me off. Of course I
know that Josh needs a therapist. I believe I’m the one who brought it up
with Kirill. A few times, actually.
I’m just about to mention that when he cuts me off. “He’s been suffering
silently for a while now and this should have been dealt with a long time
ago.”
Is he for real right now? “I was trying to get him some help—”
“When?” Ruslan demands. “After he had a full-blown anxiety attack?”
My jaw snaps shut. My instinct is to just walk away. Don’t stoop to his
level. But to walk away now would be to imply that he’s right about
everything.
So I get my soap box out and I get to work.
“Excuse me, but where do you get off judging me about Josh? I’ve been
doing the best I can to make sure he’s alright. That’s he’s happy. And safe.”
“Safe?” Ruslan scoffs. “If that were the case, you’d have kicked Ben out a
long time ago.”
That takes me off-guard but I double down. “It wasn’t that easy. He is their
father—”
Ruslan snorts. “Some fucking father. Threatening his kid with physical
violence if he doesn’t do what he wants.”
I stop short. “H-he… did what?”
Ruslan glances towards the garden. “Josh didn’t want you to know. He
didn’t want you to worry.”
Oh, God. It’s always a bad sign when I hear my mother’s voice in my head.
She is the demon of self-doubt that’s haunted me my entire life. And she lit
fresh fires that have been simmering evilly since our call a few weeks ago.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
“You didn’t know.” Ruslan’s voice is gruff, unsympathetic. “But you should
have.”
I agree. But the stress and the pressure of dealing with all these issues on
my own for so long has taken a toll. And what’s the point of getting my
soap box out if I’m not gonna use it?
“Yeah, you’re right,” I snap. “I should have—but I didn’t. Because I was
busy trying to pay the bills and maintain a roof over their heads. I was
trying to pay off my sister’s debts and keep the kids in the school they were
in before their mother died. I was trying to juggle being a mom and a dad
and the sole breadwinner. So yeah—I did fall short. I doubt it’s gonna be
the last time, either. Shocking as it may seem to you, Ruslan, I am human! I
didn’t ask for any of this. But I sure as hell tried my best when it landed on
my lap.” I slap a hand down on the countertop because I’m suddenly so
dizzy with anger that standing upright is a challenge. “Oh, and by the way, I
asked Kirill about a therapist weeks ago. For all the kids. He told me that he
would look into it, but I assumed that was his way of saying he needed to
check with you. We could have saved ourselves a lot of time if I could have
just come to you with this suggestion instead of Kirill. But no, you’re so
damned wrapped up in your own ego that you can’t bear to be alone with
me for five seconds without some sort of buffer present. Well, I got news
for you buddy: we’re having a baby together. So, like it or not, you’re
gonna have to deal with your feelings and talk to me at some point!”
I’m winded by the time I’m done. Ruslan’s face is completely unreadable,
but I get the feeling that there are things bubbling around below the surface.
Too bad I don’t give a shit about any of them.
“Emma—”
I flinch back from his reach. “Excuse me. I need a swim.”
Swimming has been my preferred form of therapy recently. There’s
something about the soothing nature of a big body of water.
It supports your weight if you trust it enough.
It hides your tears no matter how hard you cry.

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 EMMA

“Wanna take a walk with me?”

Josh squints up at me, suspicious. Then his gaze veers to his sisters, who are
both splashing around in the shallow end of the pool with Kirill. “Okay.”
I’ve spent the last three days since my kitchen spat with Ruslan obsessing
over Josh. I’ve also spent the last three days observing him. He’s quiet—but
he hasn’t always been like that. I try to think back to when that started.
Was it around the time his mother died? Or was it after that, when Ben
started transforming from a man into a monster?
I’ve always known that Josh has taken on more responsibility than he could
carry but I was never able to prevent it. He was always so staunch and
determined. He was also my one ally in this. Which I can see now was a
failing on my part. He was never meant to be my ally. He was only ever
meant to be a child.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
I shake my head to clear the nagging thoughts. “Josh, can we talk?” I ask as
we approach the bird bath at the far end of the gardens.
“Bird bath” is a little bit of an understatement. It’s more like a three-tiered
marble fountain you could skip a rock across. The only “birds” big enough
to use this properly died with the rest of the other dinosaurs.
“About what?”
“About your father.” He stops walking instantly. I have to double back a
little. “Josh?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard, but—”
“Ruslan told you, didn’t he?”
I nod, not wanting to lie to him. “He did and I’m glad he did. But I would
have preferred hearing it from you.”
Josh looks away. “Did he tell you about the part where I used to go into
your purse and steal your credit cards for Dad, sometimes?”
That fucking bastard. I make sure to keep my expression neutral. “No, he
didn’t.”
Josh flushes. “I’m sorry, Aunt Em.”
I grab him and pull him against me. “Josh, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should
have realized what was happening. I should have prevented him from using
you, from treating you like that.” I put my hands on his shoulders and push
him back just enough so that I can see his face. “Did he really hit you?” It
feels as though my heartbeat is in my throat.
“Sometimes,” Josh admits in a small voice.
I pull him back into my embrace. “God, I could kill him. I’m so sorry,
Josh.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. I should have left with you guys a long time ago. I think I just
wanted to believe that Ben would get better. I wanted to believe that he
would come out of it and things would go back to normal. Or as normal as
they could be without your mom.”
Josh gives me an uncertain glance. “Was he different with Mom?”
“Very,” I admit. “A different man entirely.”
“Maybe she took that man with her when she went.”
From the mouths of babes comes wisdom… I wrap my arm around Josh’s
shoulders and we continue on toward the bird bath. “I won’t let him hurt
you ever again. I promise. I swear it.” When we get to the fountain, I sit
down on the edge of it and position Josh right in front of me. “But, Josh,
you need to tell me when something like that is going on. I can’t protect you
if I don’t know what’s happening.”
His forehead wrinkles. “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to protect you.”
I’m so close to tears at this point. I swallow hard and remind myself that I
am the adult here. “My sweet boy, you have too much on your shoulders.
Let me carry some of the load.”
He only shakes his head again. “You’re having a baby. I can share the load.”
He nods with finality, as though that’s the end of it. His jaw is set in that
stubborn square, the one that reminds me so much of his mother.
I’m seeing her more and more now in her children. As much as it breaks my
heart, it also makes me feel like we’re not so far apart anymore, she and I.
“Can you do me a favor then?” He nods begrudgingly. “Will you speak to a
therapist? I understand that you want to take care of your family, Josh. But
sometimes, you have to put your own oxygen mask on first.”
“Like in airplanes?”
“Exactly like that. So will you agree to speak to someone who can help?”
He hesitates, then nods once more. “Okay, Aunt Em.”
I kiss his forehead. “That’s my boy.”
We spend the next twenty minutes sitting by the bird bath, enjoying the
water, sunlight, and the few brave crows who are willing to venture close to
us.
Every time I see Josh smile at their squawking, I get all warm inside. But
the feeling is short-lived. He’s eight years old. He shouldn’t need a therapist
at this age.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
I need to talk to Phoebe. I need a shoulder to lean on. I need to hear my
friend tell me that I may be a flawed person, but I’m not a terrible one.
I may not believe her.
But it would help to hear it all the same.

I slow down the hallway when I hear Ruslan’s voice booming from inside
his office. “What do you mean, you ‘forgot’ to add it to the schedule? I
reminded you three times yesterday!”
I don’t hear the other part of the conversation so I’m assuming that whoever
he’s yelling at is on the phone.
“Jesus fucking Christ. What time did you say?… It’s 4:00 P.M. right now,
Melissa. I was supposed to be there half an hour ago.”
I cringe. I would not want to be Melissa right now.
I wait for the conversation to end before I knock twice. “What?” Ruslan
bellows from inside.
Too late to back out now. I open the door and walk in.
The moment he sees me, his eyes flash with darkness and he scowls. “What
is it?”
“Bad time?”
Endless piles of paperwork cover the surface of his desk. So much of it that
there isn’t a trace of mahogany to be seen through all the scattered reams.
“The fuck does it look like?”
For some reason, I creep further into the office. I take one look at the
chaotic schedule that his new temp has organized for him and my eyebrows
hit my hairline.
“You have two different meetings scheduled for the same time tomorrow
morning,” I point out.
“My dimwitted new assistant apparently thinks I can be in two places at
once.”
I bite down on my lips to keep from smiling. “You know, I do have
secretarial experience. I can help you—”
“I’d rather hire a circus clown.”
I narrow my eyes. “Sounds like you already did.”
For a moment, I think I’m gonna get a smile. But that’s apparently too
much to ask for. Instead, his mouth hardens into a flat line.
It still looks extremely kissable, though.
The problem—well, one of the problems—with all this doom and gloom
and anger is that Ruslan doesn’t look any different. He’s still as gorgeous as
he’s always been.
Which is not to say I’m still not pissed off about our last interaction. It still
haunts me at night; it rings in my ears during the little silences that pepper
every day. Even that much feels like a betrayal to myself. Being attracted to
a man who treats me like shit? Have some self-respect, girl. And yet, my
body doesn’t seem very interested in being loyal when it comes to Ruslan.
“Seriously, just give me an hour here and—”
“I don’t need or want your help, Ms. Carson.”
I glare at him. “Fine. I’ll leave you to your messed-up schedule and your
idiot assistant. I just have one question.”
“Oh, so there’s a question? I thought you’d just come in here to annoy the
hell out of me.”
I phone in the fake laugh. “So funny. Truly hilarious. Take that show on the
road; you’d slay.”
“I don’t have all day, Emma.”
It’s amazing how he can give me two such opposing reactions. On the one
hand, there’s frustration and anger. On the other hand, there’s desire and
need. If only I could turn off my heart—and my vagina—and simply leave
him in the rearview mirror…
Life would be so much easier.
“I want to see Phoebe.”
“So FaceTime her.”
“I know this is a foreign concept to you, but I need human contact. Some
in-person, face-to-face, I-can-see-her-and-she-can-see-me contact. So I
thought I’d invite her over here one day. I just wanted to run it—”
“I don’t want anyone coming in or out of the estate unless they’ve been
vetted first.”
“So vet her.”
“The process takes two months.”
I have no idea if that’s true or if he’s just being an ass but I decide to put on
my problem-solver hat and give him another option. “Fine. Then can I get
my car keys back? I’ll go meet her outside the estate.”
That suggestion at least gets me a little eye contact. I’ve forgotten how
obnoxiously beautiful those amber eyes are.
Who am I kidding? Of course I haven’t forgotten.
“No. Out of the question.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Did you not hear a word I just said? It’s not safe out there. You really think
I’m gonna send you out into the world where you’re vulnerable?”
My heart quivers just the tiniest amount. If I squint and turn my head to the
side and sort go cross-eyed a little bit, it almost looks like he cares about
my safety.
“You’re pregnant,” he adds. “I’m not about to let you carry my heir into
harm’s way.”
Well, there goes that theory. And since he’s just shot my request down, I
have no reason to be polite anymore. “So what you’re saying is that I’m
your prisoner?”
“At least until the baby is born.”
“That’s months away, Ruslan.”
“Lucky for you, this is a big estate. Go explore it.”
“Let me take Kirill with me then,” I suggest. “He can protect me. He can be
my personal bodyguard, if that’s what it takes to get me out of—”
Ruslan slams his palms down on the desk and rears himself up to his full
height. I’m not quite sure which part of that suggestion ticked him off the
most, but suddenly, he looks very pissed. His nostrils flare, his eyes shoot
daggers at me, and he’s wearing a violent scowl that shows off his sharp
canines.
“No one will be escorting you anywhere.”
“You escorted me to the doctor’s.”
“I am different.”
“By that, do you mean you’re a complete and total asshole?” I yell.
“Because if so, I completely agree! You are different.”
“This is about your safety!”
“No! This is about your fetish for control.”
He rounds the table, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Oh, I don’t
presume to think I can control you. You’re the one pulling the strings, aren’t
you, little kiska?”
I can’t lie—hearing him use that word on me again sends a shooting thrill
up my spine. But I’m too pissed off to care. Much, much too pissed off.
“Right,” I spit, getting right up in his face before he gets in mine. “Because
I’m just the devious whore who seduced you in order to use you and then
sell you out to the highest bidder. That’s the narrative you’ve created in
your head, huh? Maybe I should just freaking lean into it.”
His eyes flash—with anger? Or excitement? I really don’t know.
“You don’t want to fan that fire, kiska.”
“Or maybe I do,” I hiss. “Maybe I should just be your whore. Get on my
knees and make the big, bad CEO happy, just for the chance to invite my
friend over? That’s what you expect of me?”
“Emma…” There’s a clear and obvious warning in his voice but the
adrenaline is pounding hard. So is my vagina. It doesn’t help that he’s so
close that I can feel his heat, his scent. My body remembers how it feels for
him to move inside of me.
“You want me to be your whore again?” I push. “Is that it?”
“Stop it.”
I don’t even know where to start with processing what I’m feeling right
now. There’s so much to unpack. The first and most dominant layer is
longing. Then there’s desire. Anger. Resentment. Sadness. Fear.
After that, more longing.
So much longing.
My eyes connect with his. That fire-bright stare makes me feel like I’m in
real danger. I’ve been burned before but that look has the power to do so
much more damage.
If I let it.
“I’m leaving,” I announce.
I turn to run from this very bad decision when his hand shoots out and grabs
my arm. He pulls me backward until my ass hits his desk. Then he plants
himself in front of me, snuffing out any chance of an escape.
“You think you get to decide when you can leave?” he growls. “You think
you can just tease me and walk out?”
I shiver as his breath tickles my cheeks. He keeps a vise grip on my gaze,
refusing to let go of it.
Or of me.
Or of all the fragile parts of my heart he’s owned from the very beginning
of this adventure that I still can’t quite bring myself to fully regret.
“You’re not the one pulling the strings, kiska. I am.”

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 RUSLAN

It’s not like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.

Sergey is still missing.
My team managed to pilfer one of Adrik’s samples of Sopernik and,
coincidence of coincidences, it happens to be chemically identical to
Venera. Which only confirms what I already knew to be true: that
unoriginal bastard not only abducted my lead chemist; he’s also ripping off
my moneymaker drug right before my eyes.
If that weren’t enough, I have a moron for an assistant who I can’t bring
myself to get rid of, just in case she’s replaced with an even bigger moron.
And now, she’s here.
Prime time for Emma to start fighting back. Right when I’m too fucking
weak to resist her. To resist this.
All those weeks of keeping my distance, all those times I turned away from
her—all those little moments have built up and I can feel the dam start to
crack. I should have let her run out of this office like she clearly wanted to.
But I didn’t.
So now, she’s trapped between me and the desk, her blue eyes fixed on
mine with a fire that makes me think she’s not all that mad about it.
“Maybe I should make you my whore again. Is that what you want?” I
murmur as I move in on her.
She pushes her shoulders back and her chest out. It’s a fighting stance. But
honestly, she doesn’t really need it. Everything about her right now tells me
that she’s more than ready to do battle if she needs to.
“I would tell you what I want,” she says. Her tone is cold and focused. “But
you wouldn’t understand.”
I lean in towards her, grazing my lips from her ear to her cheek. “I
understand that you’re good at this game.”
“That’s exactly the difference between us: this is not a game to me.”
I pull back a little and make the mistake of meeting her eyes. They’re so
bright right now, shining with whatever you call the thing that comes before
unshed tears.
“No?” I ask. “Tell me something: why did you really come in here, kiska?”
She flinches. I wonder idly if I’ve stumbled on something here. Curious, I
dig my heels in and place my hands on either side of the desk, locking her
in. “Tell me.”
Her lips part. God, what I would give to bite down on those lips right now.
The things I’d do. The prices I’d pay.
“I knew you would refuse me,” she admits.
“But you came anyway. See?” I say triumphantly. “It is a game.”
“You call it a game; I call it survival.” Her breath catches for a moment and,
just when I think she’s done talking, she says, “Yes, I came here even when
I knew you would say no. But I just wanted an excuse to be in your space. I
wanted to be near you. Because… because I miss you so damn much. Even
if you’re not here.”
Is this real? My cock certainly thinks it is. My body is completely won over
and it wants her so badly that every breath I spent not inside of her is
absolute agony.
But my heart remains cautious. My mind is wary.
I can’t let her in again…
“I’m right here,” I rasp. “What’s there to miss?”
She shakes her head and lifts her hand to my face. Her fingers are light as a
feather as they dance along my cheek. “No, you’re not. You’re not here at
all. I miss the old Ruslan. The man who carried me to bed after I fell asleep.
Who covered me with a blanket to make sure I wouldn’t get cold at night. I
want the man who took care of the kids for me so that I could fall apart in
peace. I want the man who looked at me as though I was special. I want that
man.”
Every word she says strikes a chord. It hits some deep buried part of me
that I’d hoped would never resurface again.
But every time she’s near me, I can feel it stir. Like a hibernating beast who
catches his first whiff of spring.
There are so many problems with that.
The first problem is that I’m hard as rock.
The second is that, every time I look into her aqua blue eyes, the need
inside me gets harder to ignore. I can’t take that stare anymore. It’s pushing
me too damn close to the edge.
So I grab Emma without warning and twist her around. She gasps but she
doesn’t move. She goes perfectly still in my arms, waiting to see what I
might do next.
I’m curious, too.
“He is not here anymore,” I snarl into her ear as I grind my erection into her
curves. “He doesn’t exist anymore.”
Emma just breathes one solitary word that undoes me. “Liar.”
She fucking dares…
It makes me furious. It also makes me even harder than I already am. She
just feels too damn good, nestled against my body, melding into my shape.
Her soft curves against my hard lines. Her innocence against my sinfulness.
Her fire against my fire.
“You’re asking for trouble, kiska.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Is it possible to come from a damn conversation? Before now, I didn’t think
it was. I’m starting to reconsider.
Before I can stop myself, I slide my tongue over her earlobe. She gasps and
wriggles in place, her ass pushing into my cock.
“The man you want is gone. But this you can have.”
Her breathing hitches up as I start ripping her skirt up. Her legs spread of
their own accord; I don’t even have to help them apart. When I can reach
them, I rip her panties off, and when she’s bare, I put my hand on the back
of her neck and push her down so that I can line my cock up with her slit.
She’s sopping wet. I almost slide inside her before I’m ready. It takes every
ounce of willpower I possess not to do that.
Emma jerks, gasping desperately, pushing that juicy ass up eagerly. I slap
her cheek once and tear her blouse open. I want to feel those lush tits before
I enter her.
They’ve changed since her pregnancy. They’re bigger, rounder, so much
perkier. I squeeze hard enough to make her cry out. Good. It can’t all be
pleasure. Pain is a necessary reminder.
“R-Ruslan,” she whimpers.
I squeeze her tits and nip at her neck with my teeth. The tip of my cock
slips inside her, but I’m not all the way in yet.
“Please,” she begs.
“You’re my little whore, aren’t you?” I growl in her ear. “You’re my dirty
little slut.”
Her shivers intensify. “Yes,” she moans. “Yes, yes… just fuck me.”
My balls feel like they’re about to burst. But I’m nothing if not disciplined.
At least, I was once—before her. Maybe I can find a way to toe that line.
Maintain all that discipline I’ve honed over the years. Keep her at arm’s
length while still having her whenever I want.
“Is that what you miss?” I hiss. “Being my whore?”
She stiffens and goes silent, so I push myself into her a little deeper.
“N-No… I miss you.”
“You can’t have me,” I warn. “But you can have this for tonight. And only
tonight.”
I wrap my hand around her neck and she pushes her ass back. Just like that,
my entire length slides inside her, filling her up completely. She cries out.
At the same time, a strangled moan escapes my own lips. It’s never felt
quite this intense before. Maybe it’s true what they say about hate fucking
—it’s a dangerous force to mess with.
Not that either one of us has the power to stop it. Now, that I’m balls deep,
there’s nothing on heaven or earth that could keep me from fucking the life
out of her.
With each impassioned thrust, I question what I’m doing. Not just to her but
to myself, too. What if this is just another manipulation? What if she’s
trying to worm herself back into my life? What if she’s trying to break down
the barriers I’ve only just built back up again?
The more I fuck her, the less I care.
I’ll think about it later.
For now, there’s just me and her.
Plus the heightened echoes of our combined moans, the slick heat of our
bodies as they collide, the vague sense that I’m slowly undoing everything
I’ve worked to keep steady.
It doesn’t take long before she comes. And the moment I feel her walls
constrict around me, I know that I won’t be able to hold out much longer,
either. Gritting my teeth, I empty myself inside her. I fill up her pussy just
like I filled up her womb.
The thought is enough to make me hard all over again.
Mine.
Fucking mine.
When I pull out of her, I notice the cum start to drip down her thighs almost
immediately. She doesn’t reach for a tissue, though. She just starts to put on
her clothes. Apparently, she remembers my requirements from the last time
we let this happen.
Her face is impassive at first. But her mouth starts to curve down as the dust
settles. There it is: reality hitting.
I know I’ve hurt her with my distance and my disdain. She’s trying not to
show her pain, but the wound is still raw. It still stings every time I look at
her.
I zip myself up and turn towards the door. I see her reflection in one of the
many black framed mirrors in the office. She’s staring at my back, waiting
for something. Some sign of hope. Something to cling to.
But I have nothing to give her right now. So, instead of pretending, I just
walk away and leave her to my empty office.
Even when I was deep inside her, I knew that fucking her was a mistake.
Still, I couldn’t help but think…
Some mistakes are worth making.

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 EMMA

It’s his cum that snaps me out of it.

It drips down the inside of my thigh, searing my skin like lava. As soon as
he’s gone, I grab a handful of tissues and wipe it up violently. I’m going for
the trash can when spite and anger take a hold of me and I drop the bunch
of them into his messy desk instead.
Serves him right.
Serves me right, too. I should have known that entering the lion’s den was a
mistake. Honestly, I deserve this shitty feeling in my chest. I mean, what
kind of woman lets her ex hate-fuck her?
A woman with very low self-esteem, that’s who.
But you know what they say: hindsight is twenty-twenty. Before I walked
into his office, I’d felt confident, almost in control. I’d come in here with a
purpose. A mission. Let me see my best friend, goddammit!
It seemed like a simple enough request but of course I should have known:
nothing is simple when it comes to Ruslan Oryolov.
It took mere minutes for him to twist my simple request into a fight that
turned into a pathetic, one-way confessional. I cringe when I think about the
things I’d admitted to him.
I miss you.
I just want to be near you.
I could freaking kick myself. How many times do I have to remind myself
that he wants nothing to do with me?
No, that’s not quite true. He does want something to do with me—when it
involves my body. He’s perfectly happy to fuck me silly. But he doesn’t
want to talk to me. He doesn’t want to be with me. He called me his dirty
little whore and, idiot that I am, I agreed.
Honestly, I deserve to have my feminist card revoked.
I storm out of his office like I should have done long before he pinned me to
his desk and trapped me with those iron arms. I stomp through the house
like a woman on a mission. The maids jump to the side the moment they
see me. Little do they know, I’m the woman who’s lost the whole damn
mission.
Lost the plot, too, at this point.
Idiot.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
Idiot. Whore. Idiot.
When I get back to the east wing of the house, I hear the children’s voices
coming from the kitchen. I groan internally. My head is already pounding
and those voices are nothing if not keyed-up right now.
The girls are running circles around the kitchen island while the chef
maneuvers out of the way. Josh is curled up in the breakfast nook with a
book in his lap.
“Auntie Em!” Reagan cries when she notices me. “Do you wanna play Tag
with us?”
“Not right now, sweetheart. In fact, I think we should end the game right
now before poor Chef Cadeau gets knocked right over.”
The French chef gives me an appreciative smile. “I am making macaroni
and cheese for dinner as per ze children’s requests, madam,” he says in his
slightly accented English. “And for you?”
Since I have zero appetite, I beg off dinner and join Josh in the breakfast
nook. He’s frowning so hard at this book that I’m half-worried he’s about to
take a swing at it.
“You okay, kiddo?”
“The girls have been screaming and running around all day. I have a
headache.”
I sigh. “You and me both.”
Apparently, Reagan and Caroline have decided to ignore me because
they’re still playing their spirited game of Tag.
“Girls!” I raise my voice just so I can be heard above the din. “Can we use
our quiet voices now? It’s almost dinner time. I can see your dolls off in the
corner. How about you play with them until dinner’s ready?”
They scurry to the corner where they’ve dumped their dolls and politely
lower their voices a few notches. Thank God for small favors.
I cross my legs but I can still feel him inside me. I should have gone up to
my room first and showered. I should have washed him off me. I hate that it
didn’t even cross my mind before now. I hate even more that a part of me
doesn’t want to lose the scent of him on my skin.
I spoke too soon about the small favors, though. “No! That’s my doll!”
Caroline’s shrill voice is a drill to the side of my head.
“But I want to play with her. You never let me play with her!”
“Give her to me—”
“No! Get your hands off—”
“Will you both stop yelling?” Josh roars before I can intervene. “You’ve
been fighting all day.”
They immediately loop us into their battle. “She won’t let me play with her
doll!” screams Caro.
“She takes the clothes off!” protests Rae.
“Because I want to dress her myself. Like a mommy does.”
“Stop screaming!”
“You stop screaming!”
“ENOUGH!” The silence that follows my cry is immediate and prickling
with tension. “Honestly,” I continue, “with the fighting, fighting, fighting.
All day and all night. It’s driving me crazy. I want all of you to be quiet.”
Josh’s eyes are huge when he turns them on me. Even the girls look
flabbergasted. Caroline’s mouth is hanging open and Reagan’s bottom lip is
trembling.
I never yell at them. That’s usually Ben’s forte. But me? Even when I’m
having a bad day, even when the kids are being their worst selves, I don’t
yell. I discipline them, yes. But I’ve never resorted to unnecessary
screaming or punishments. The fact that I’m doing it now is a direct result
of the current state of chaos my mind has been submerged into.
I’m angry and frustrated at myself. I’m battling demons in my head and the
kids’ squabble was just getting tangled up in my misery. That’s all there is
to it.
Which is why I feel horrible.
I have no right to take my anger out on them just because I’ve lost control
of my own life.
Idiot.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
Idiot.
I’m just about to apologize when one of the maids walks in. She’s wearing a
deadpan expression as she hands me a piece of mail stamped with an
official seal on the flap.
“It arrived a few minutes ago, ma’am. By registered courier.”
I accept the intimidating white envelope with a slight nod and the maid
disappears almost instantly. That whole “staff must be seen and not heard”
rule in this house is no joke.
I tear open the seal and pull the papers out. My fingers go cold first. Then
my arms. Then the rest of me.
This document was drawn up by lawyers representing Beatrice and Barrett
Carson.
My own damn parents are suing for custody of the children.
I try to breathe through the panic. As naïve as it sounds, I didn’t think they
would take it this far. But apparently, Beatrice wasn’t kidding when she
accused me of being a shitty guardian.
I feel so stupid for letting it come to this. I thought that, because Kirill and
Ruslan were handling it, I didn’t have to worry any longer. I’d just kinda
relaxed, assuming that the temporary custody I had of the children would
stick.
They were safe from Ben at least.
But now that my parents are trying to get custody, what might that mean?
Lord knows they have the money and the connections. Barrett plays golf
twice a month with a prominent New York City judge and Beatrice is on the
boards of half the society clubs in the city. They’re also pissed off enough
with me to see this through.
My head spins and the pounding only gets worse.
What am I gonna do?
How do I fight this?
Is there anyone in my corner?
“A-Aunt E-E-Emma? Are you ok-kay?” Josh’s voice cracks through my
haze of worry. But I can barely hear him over the pounding in my ears. I
don’t hear Caroline or Reagan when they chime in, either.
I want to reassure them but I can’t seem to find my words. Maybe because,
before I can reassure them, I have to reassure myself.
I glance towards Josh. I can’t tell him; he carries too much already. The
girls are far too young to understand. So I just shake my head instead and
try to get to my feet.
I need to read through this document. I need to know what I’m dealing
with.
I need to…
… stop moving.
Is the kitchen spinning or is that just me?
“Aunt Emma!”
“No!”
“She’s falling!”
Oh, God…
The spinning turns the world into a whirlwind of color and then, just like
that—
All the colors fade to black.

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 EMMA

You know you’ve hit an all-time low when you come to from a fainting
spell and all you can think is, Well, that was restful.
That sense of ease lasts for about three seconds before the silence clogging
up my ears gives way to squeals and cries and anguished yells that I’m not
capable of processing just yet.
I try to open my eyes but they’re still heavy, still clinging to the need for
darkness. Someone’s touching me… my arm? My right arm, yes. No, not
touching—nudging. Whoever it is is trying to prod me awake.
Something cool hits my face. It’s not unpleasant but I’d rather do without it,
to be honest. I like the warmth of the darkness and I don’t want to be
reminded of the cold when I wake up.
“Hey, kids, let’s move aside, okay? Give her some room to breathe.”
Now, that voice is soothing.
Ruslan’s? Is that his? My ears are still ringing so the actual tenor of the
voice is lost to me. I can’t identify the speaker and I don’t want to know
who it is enough to open my eyes. So I lie there, taking it all in.
Every other sensation is heightened. I can feel the scurry of little panicked
feet. I can sense the rasp of heavy breathing. I can smell cheesy goodness in
the air.
Dammit, I must have ruined dinner. And the kids love mac and cheese.
Bad guardian. Bad mother. Bad person.
“Emma.”
There’s that voice again, calm and soothing. Please let it be Ruslan. I have
no idea why I want him right now. Especially considering I just left his
office wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
The last few months set a bad precedent. He caught me every time I fell and
now, I seek out that comfort and security without even realizing it.
“Emma.”
Maybe it is him. Maybe seeing me passed out on the floor has reverted him
back to the man he used to be before he believed I’d betrayed him. Maybe
I’ve gotten my wish. Maybe the gods have decided that I’ve suffered
through enough and they’re taking pity on me by bringing my Ruslan back.
Yeah freaking right.
Maybe pigs will fly, too.
“Emma, can you hear me?”
The voice is gaining in character. Definitely not Ruslan. A tear slips down
the edge of my closed eye. Why is it that sometimes every kind little
gesture that he doesn’t do feels so much worse than the cruel and awful
things he does do?
“Is she gonna be okay, Uncle Kiki?”
Of course. Kirill. That makes more sense.
“I-is Aunt Emma g-g-gonna d-die?”
“No, of course not. She just needs some rest, that’s all. I’m gonna make
sure she’s okay.”
“Where’s Ruslan?”
Probably skulking off somewhere, cursing the day he laid eyes on me.
I force my eyes open, if only to convince the kids that I’m gonna be okay.
I’ve already yelled at them unfairly today. I don’t want to burden them with
any more trauma than I’ve already given them.
Honestly, maybe my parents have a point. They might be better off without
me.
“Auntie Em!”
“Look, she’s awake!”
I open my eyes to find four hazy faces hanging over mine. The girls look
relieved but Josh’s eyebrows are pulled together uncertainly.
“Okay, kidlets, let’s move to the side again. I’m gonna pick her up and take
her upstairs.”
I try to groan in protest—You’re better off without me; just leave me here
where it’s dark and warm and quiet—but before I’m ready, Kirill scoops me
up into his arms. I’m not even doing the moving myself but the vertigo hits
all the same. Any hope of arguing goes up in smoke.
I’m vaguely aware of Kirill saying something to the kids. He must be
telling them to stay in the kitchen and finish their dinner because, when he
takes me upstairs, no one follows us.
By the time he places me down on my bed, I’m mostly in control of my
faculties. I can see and hear normally. The pounding in my head has
subsided and the ringing in my ears has eased.
Kirill passes me a glass of water. “Here. Drink.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “Are the kids alright?”
“They’re worried about you, of course. But I assured them that you’d be
okay. And I’m gonna keep that promise. Which is why the doctor is on his
way now.”
I cringe. “That’s really not necessary.”
“You fainted, Emma.”
“My parents sent me a little gift. Caught me by surprise.”
He nods grimly. “I saw. Don’t worry; we can handle it.”
“You don’t know my parents.”
“They don’t know Ruslan Oryolov.”
I frown. I’m not sure I do, either. “Have you told him about this?”
“No.”
“Good. Can we keep it that way?”
His eyebrows spike downward. “Emma…”
“Please.” I fold my hands together in prayer. “I just fainted. Do you really
want to bring about a relapse?”
He chuckles. “The fact that you’re threatening me tells me you’re feeling
better.”
“So you can tell the doctor not to come?”
The chuckle falls flat. “No chance.”
I groan and let my head collapse back onto the pillows. “Maybe I will catch
a break one of these days. But today is not that day.”
Kirill offers me a small smile. “Listen, Em, I think it might be a good idea
to bring in some reinforcements where the kids are concerned.”
I squint up at him. Guess I can add Kirill to the list of people who think I’m
a terrible mother. “Like a nanny?”
“Exactly like a nanny. That way, you can rest a little more and you don’t
have to worry about them quite so much.”
If only… “If we’re talking nannies, then I’d rather have Amelia here than
anyone else. She knows the kids and they love her.”
Kirill purses up his lips. “She’ll have to be vetted.”
“I know, I know. The process takes two months.”
He blinks in confusion and shakes his head. “Um, no, it mostly takes a few
weeks. Or less. Usually less.” I can only shake my own head in disgust. Of
course it does. Ruslan was just being an asshole. “But I can try and speed it
along.”
I reach out to grab his hand in my weak grasp. “Kirill, seriously: don’t tell
Ruslan about this.”
“Why not?” He sighs, clearly frustrated. “He deserves to know about this,
Emma.”
“I’m not sure about deserves, but we can come back to that. I’d just rather
not have him involved.”
“He’s the father of your child.”
“He’s also the bane of my existence. And I don’t want him to know about
this!”
Kirill pulls back a little. I wonder if he can see the truth on my face. And
the truth is, I don’t want to give Ruslan another reason to think that I can’t
take care of these children, including the one in utero.
Kirill still hasn’t agreed to keep my secret when Dr. Owens walks in. The
doctor fixes me with that kindly smile of his, which, to my surprise, does
make me feel marginally better. He gives me a standard examination,
checks my pulse and my vitals, all while Kirill stands off to the side like a
watchful guard dog.
“Well, Doc?” Kirill asks when the doctor finishes jotting down his notes.
“Everything seems to be alright, except—” I cringe internally as I await the
imminent bad news. “—your blood pressure is far too high.”
I have to repress a snort. Gee, I wonder why that could be.
“We’re gonna have to monitor that carefully,” he continues. “High blood
pressure can be very damaging to both mother and child.”
And I thought keeping this baby safe would be easiest while it was inside
me. Apparently, I can’t even manage to do that right. Sienna didn’t have
high blood pressure during any one of her pregnancies. She’d coasted
through all three in high spirits. Leave it to me to screw the simple part up.
Bad guardian.
Bad mother.
Bad person.
“I’d recommend weekly visits to the hospital for precautionary
examinations. At least until we can bring your blood pressure down and
determine that you and the baby are completely out of danger.”
I look at Kirill hopefully, praying he decides to take pity on me and keep
this between us. But his eyes are fixed firmly on the doctor.
I know that look. It never ends well for me.
“Can we determine the cause of the high blood pressure, Doc?”
“Our last exam was two weeks ago. Given that Emma has shown no sign of
preeclampsia and no prior history of high blood pressure, it seems to me
that this is stress-related.” He turns his gaze on me. “Have you been under
any undue stress lately, Emma?”
I double-down on the cringe. “Well…”
The doctor seems to take that as confirmation. He gives me an
understanding nod and pats my arm. “Pregnancy is hard enough as it is.
Add social and familial pressures and it becomes exponentially harder.
Emma, my dear, you need to do whatever it takes to reduce the amount of
stress in your life. For your sake and the baby’s alike.”
I swallow hard, keenly aware of my heart throwing a fit inside my chest.
Ironically, all this information is really not helping my blood pressure.
“Let me schedule another appointment for you early next week,” Dr. Owens
concludes. “Until then, drink lots of water, meditate, and try to rest as much
as you can.”
Kirill takes over from there. “Thanks, Doc. Let me show you out.”
He’s about to follow Dr. Owens out the door when I stop him. “Kirill!” He
turns reluctantly, no doubt because he knows exactly what I’m trying to ask
him. “Please?”
He shakes his head. “Just rest, okay?”
Then he shuts the door and I sink into the bed, wondering how my life went
so wrong, so fast.

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 RUSLAN

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 TAP, TAP, TAP…

Vadim has been tapping his way through this entire damn meeting and I’m
about to explode on his ass if he doesn’t stop right fucking now.
“Is there something wrong with your finger, Uncle, or is there something
you want to say?”
The tapping stops.
Thank fucking God.
Then he starts to talk instead and I immediately regret my choice to speak
up.
“I am concerned, nephew.”
No shit. We’re all fucking concerned. Of course, some of us are more
concerned than others. Fyodor, for example, looks like he’d rather be in his
gardens, tending to his roses and his chrysanthemums. If there ever comes a
day when I’m more interested in begonias than business, I’m just gonna
have Kirill put a bullet in the back of my head and call it a day.
“There’s reason to be,” I agree. “My orders weren’t followed the night of
the launch. And it’s not my men that did it.”
Vadim’s eyebrows rise. “Is there someone you’re accusing?”
I lean over my folded arms. “Let’s review the facts: Sergey is missing and
Venera samples were tampered with the night of the launch. Both those
facts suggest that this is an inside job.”
Vadim’s eyebrows peak higher. “Are you trying to accuse someone in this
room?”
The moment he speaks, everyone in the boardroom stiffens—with the
exception of my father, who still looks like he’s barely paying attention. My
gaze flickers over the three other men present today.
Mikkeli Petrov—one of the chemists that helped Sergey develop Venera.
Josef Vinogradov—head of the security team that was in charge of
protecting Venera samples and overseeing its circulation.
Andrei Belov—my logistics consigliere. The man responsible for recruiting
an entire apparatus of dealers and delivery services to inject Venera into the
lifeblood of the city.
All of them have something to lose by working against me, so it doesn’t
make sense that they would fuck up an operation with massive personal
payouts. Still, someone had a motive. It may not be obvious right now, but
that’s only because my perspective is incomplete. I don’t have all the
information.
But I can smell it.
Right there in front of me.
Just out of reach, but getting closer by the day.
“I’m not accusing anyone in this room. Yet. But I do think that we need to
keep a close eye on Adrik Makarov.”
“Wasn’t Kirill supposed to be doing that?” My father meets my eyes for the
first time during this meeting. “Speaking of your second, he’s not here. He’s
never missed a meeting before.”
He’s right. Kirill should be here. And he better have a good fucking reason
for—
Speak of the devil.
When the door swings open to reveal him, Kirill’s face is somber. He
doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he walks in and heads straight for
me. He doesn’t make apologies, either.
Which can only mean one thing—trouble.
He leans in, his lips close to my ear, and whispers, “Something came up.” I
nod, giving him permission to continue. “It’s Emma.”
That’s all he needs to say. Before I know it, I’m out of my seat and flying
towards the door.
“Ruslan?” Vadim’s voice is stunned, but I ignore it and storm out of the
boardroom.
Kirill trails right behind me, shadowing my furious walk down the hall. I
wait until we’ve turned the corner and there’s no chance of Vadim or
anyone else in the boardroom being able to spy on us. Then I whirl around
to face Kirill.
“What the fuck happened?”
He holds up his hands to pacify me. “First of all, she’s okay. But she did
have a fainting spell.”
Kirill’s reassurance ought to calm me down, but as it turns out, it doesn’t do
shit. I need to see her myself. “She fainted?”
“Yes. I had the doctor come to give her a check-up when she came to.”
“And?”
“Her blood pressure is high. There is a risk—to both her and the child.”
An angry growl bursts through my clenched teeth. I need to fucking do
something. I need to break shit. I need to use my fists. I need to do some
real damage. Every time I think I’m in control, something happens—almost
always involving that frustrating little kiska—that reminds me it’s all just an
illusion.
I can’t even fucking yell about it because, other than Kirill, no one knows
that Emma’s pregnant. I have no doubt Fyodor and Vadim will be pleased,
albeit for very different reasons, but it’s not information I’m inclined to
share just yet.
It’s all too much right now and I don’t want any of my uncle’s unsolicited
advice or my father’s long-winded speeches about the importance of family.
What I need right now is to make sure Emma is alright.
But considering the way I left things…
“Fuck!” I snarl as I resume moving down the corridor towards my office.
“Ruslan,” Kirill snaps, chasing after me, “wait!”
I don’t wait. I’m already pissed off that Kirill was the one to handle this
situation. I should have been there. I should have been the one to call the
doctor.
Maybe what I’m most pissed off about is the sneaking suspicion that, quite
apart from being the solution, I may have been the fucking problem.
To make my black mood even blacker, I catch Melissa’s eager face when
she jumps to her feet the moment she sees me. “Oh, hello, Mr. Rus—”
“Oryolov,” I snarl. “It’s Mr. Oryolov.”
“Right.” She giggles like the insipid dolt that she is. “Can I get you a
coffee?”
“Read the fucking room, Melissa.”
I stalk into my office and slam the door, forgetting momentarily that Kirill
is right behind me. “Oh, you ass—!” he exclaims as the door narrowly
misses taking out his nose.
But his reflexes kick in just in time and he’s able to pound the door back.
“Brother,” he scowls as he follows me in, “you have got to calm down.”
“Calm down?” I spit, pacing furiously. How can I calm down when she’s at
risk? But that’s not what I say. What I say is, “How can I calm down when
the baby’s at risk?”
Kirill’s eyes narrow. He plants himself right in front of me, breaking my
frantic pacing. “Ruslan.” His voice is heavy with accusation. “If you don’t
slow down for a goddamn minute and listen to me, you’re gonna lose your
heir. In fact, you might just lose them both.”
I force my heart rate down as I focus on Kirill. He looks just as angry as I
feel right now.
“Dr. Owens gave her a full exam. Her blood pressure has spiked in the few
weeks since her last check-up. Which means it’s not a condition that
requires treatments or drugs. It’s stress.”
My fault.
My fucking fault.
“I get that you’re pissed at her. I know you feel betrayed. But right now,
she’s carrying your baby. She doesn’t need to be punished; she needs
patience and care. She needs to be looked after.”
As much as I hate getting a damn lecture from my second-in-command, I
know I have to hear this. I know he’s right.
“It’s stress?” I ask tentatively.
Kirill nods. “She’s going through a lot right now. Her parents are suing for
custody of the children. She’s got no one to talk to but me and those kids.
She’s completely isolated and it doesn’t matter how big your estate is—to
her, it’s getting claustrophobic.” He takes a breath and his clenched jaw
softens marginally. “I know you’ve got a lot going on, brother. But so does
she. You want this baby to be born safe and healthy? Then you’ve got to be
a little gentler with the mother.”
Blyat’.
I stare back at Kirill. I can see all my mistakes, all my stupidity reflected
back in at me through his eyes. I tear myself away and head for the door.
I’m done talking.
I need to go back home.
I need to see her.

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 RUSLAN

The kids are all over me the moment I get back home.
It’s not the usual excitement I’m met with, though. There’s a fearful kind of
desperation in the way they flock around me. I take a few minutes to sit
with them before I go upstairs to check on Emma. I balance a little girl on
each knee and look Josh head-on when he sits down opposite us.
“Is Aunt Emma going to be alright? Kirill said we weren’t allowed to d-
disturb her,” Josh tells me quietly. His voice is shaky, his lip quivering, that
stutter peeking out to show just how badly he needs to be reassured.
Caroline nods. “Yeah, even after we promised not to fight anymore.”
Reagan’s bottom lip is going a mile a minute. I run a hand down her
beautiful curtain of hair. “Listen to me: your aunt is strong. She’s going to
be fine. It’s just that growing a baby isn’t easy. So we’re all going to have to
be really mindful of that from now on, okay?”
“We won’t fight anymore!” Reagan promises. “And if we do, we’ll fight far
away from Auntie Em.”
I suppress my smile. “Good girl. Now, how about you guys play in the
garden while I go upstairs and check on your aunt?”
“We’re gonna have a picnic with Amelia.”
I turn to Caroline. “Amelia?”
“Ahem.” I glance up and see a young woman standing in the threshold of
the living room’s open arches dressed in oversize, paint-stained overalls that
make her look like a giant toddler. “Hi,” she says awkwardly. “Mr. Kirill
hired me to take care of the kids for a few hours every day.”
I put the girls down and walk over. “Kirill hired you?”
She gulps under my gaze. “H-he made me sign an NDA. I believe the
words ‘silence on pain of death’ were also used.”
“Good,” I growl. “Then he covered my bases.”
She has the audacity to look insulted, which incidentally makes me respect
her more. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can keep a secret. And I
love those kids. I love Emma, too. She’s been really good to me over the
years.”
I have no trouble believing that. I’m learning that I also don’t mind a little
fire in the people taking care of my family, even if it’s not the kind of thing
I’d normally tolerate from a subordinate. “Alright then. I won’t keep you
from your picnic.”
She looks me in the eyes for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied.
Then she takes the girls’ hands and they all step out onto the patio.
I leave them and make my way upstairs. When I try Emma’s door, I find it
locked. Breathe, motherfucker, I coach myself. She needs your patience
now. As hard-to-find as that may be. I take in a long inhale, release a long
exhale, and then I knock.
“Who is it?”
“Ruslan.”
A beat of silence. And then: “No thank you.”
“Emma. I just want to see how you’re doing.”
“Tell Kirill he’s an ass. And we’re not friends anymore.”
It’s good to know that he’s still got my back even in the face of his
newfound affection for Emma. I need to tone down my inner asshole
around him. The man doesn’t deserve it.
“Open the door.”
“No. I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”
Fuck the expensive Himalayan timber—I could just break this goddamn
door down. The only reason I don’t is because I don’t want to add to her
already elevated stress levels.
Instead of wasting time trying to reason with her, I head to the electrical
power room on the first floor. There’s a small safe in there to which only
Kirill and I have the combination. Among other things, it contains a spare
key for every room on the property.
Her face drops when I open the door and walk in, but I can tell from the
way she falls back onto her pillow that she’s not in a fighting mood today.
She looks so small and frail in that big California king bed. Her cheeks are
pale, too. I’ve never wanted to protect her more.
I’m just having a hell of a time figuring out how to keep her safe from
myself.
“I’m not in the mood to fight, Ruslan,” she mumbles.
“That makes two of us.” I drag a chair over to her bedside and sit down.
She flinches away from me as though touching would be dangerous. “How
are you feeling?”
She stares at me incredulously. “How do you think I’m feeling?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Her jaw drops. “With you?”
I can’t even justify rolling my eyes, as much as I’d like to. Considering the
way I’ve treated her lately, it’s a fair question. “Yes, with me.”
“Why would I want to talk about it with you?” she laughs. “Why would I
want to talk to you about anything?”
Again—fair.
“Because I’m asking.”
The vein in her forehead has just made an appearance but it’s not throbbing
or anything. It’s just peeping out shyly to say hello.
“Okay. Then why do you care?”
Because I care about you.
But again, I don’t say what I should say. “Because you’re carrying my
child.”
Her eyelashes flutter and she looks down. Her lips quiver for only a
moment before she looks back up again. “Of course. I should have known.”
“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” I offer.
She snorts. “That’s the understatement of the damn year.”
“Is it—” Me? “—the custody issue?” She’s still not meeting my eyes so I
take Kirill’s advice and go gentle. “You can tell me, kiska.”
Little by little, I’m prying her open. Not with force or violence, the tools I
used to use. But with kindness. Tenderness.
Fuck it—with love.
And I can see it working. Her face softens. Her eyes brighten. She opens
her mouth and it all comes out.
“It’s everything,” she breathes. Her voice catches at first, but the more she
keeps talking, the steadier she becomes. “It’s this house; it’s my future; it’s
you and me. But mostly, it’s those kids. What if I don’t get to keep them?
What if Beatrice and Barrett win custody and I lose them?” Her tears are
flowing freely now. “I promised Sienna I would keep them safe and happy.
I stood in front of her headstone the evening we buried her and I promised
her that I would never let them be subjected to the kind of childhood we
were subjected to. It was right after then that Mom and Dad approached me
for the first time with their offer to take the kids off my hands. That’s how
they phrased it, too. ‘We’ll take them off your hands.’ Like it was a freaking
burden, like I’d be happy for the chance to get rid of them. They didn’t
understand even then. It wasn’t a burden to look after those kids; it was a
privilege.”
Her chest is heaving from her impassioned words. It’s bringing the color
back into her cheeks.
Fucking hell, is she glorious.
She looks me dead in the eye. “I know I’ve fallen short but I still believe
that raising them is a privilege. I may not be a great mother, but I’m gonna
try my hardest to become better. I’m never gonna stop trying.”
“Are you crazy?”
Her mouth clamps shut. She leans away, eyes round with shock.
“For fuck’s sake, Emma: you are the best mother I have ever seen. You
have everything stacked against you but you make those kids think the
world was made for them and them alone. You struggle so they don’t and
you’d jump off a bridge before you let them see you quit or show fear. You
give them so much love, so much hope, so much reason to believe that the
future holds nothing but happiness for them.”
Her eyes grow wider the more I talk. And even then, I keep talking. “Why
do you think I picked you? Before I met you, I didn’t even want a child.
Then I saw you with those kids and I thought, if I was ever gonna have a
kid, this is the woman I want to have one with.”
She blinks and a fat tear rolls down her cheek. “Ruslan,” she breathes
softly, “do you really mean that?”
“Every fucking word.”
She bites her lip. Still uncertain. As if saying with her body, Prove it.
So I don’t hesitate. I slide into the bed beside her and wrap my arms around
her. This is for the baby. I’m being gentle to manage her stress. I’m being
whatever she needs me to be until this baby is born.
If I pick at that logic too much, it’s gonna unravel fast. So I focus on her
slow breathing and her citrus and honey scent.
She’s still crying, her tears soaking through the front of my shirt. I hate
seeing her like this. It’s worse knowing that I contributed to it. As penance,
I will hold her for as long as she needs me to.
It’s a self-serving penance, though. I know it; she knows it.
Pretty sure the damn doorknob knows it, too.
“Don’t cry, Emma.”
“I want to believe you. But too many people have told me that I’m a shitty
mother now for me not to believe it.”
I grit my teeth. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. That shit I said
about you, with Josh… it was uncalled for. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
She twists to the side so that she can look up at me. “I think that’s the first
time I’ve ever heard you say that.”
I snort. “Don’t get used to it.”
She actually smiles. It’s tentative and it’s watery, but it’s real. And it does
something to me.
“I wouldn’t dare…” She plays with the buttons of my shirt, pressing her
body harder against me. She’s wriggling a little too much now for my
liking. It’s giving my cock all kinds of ideas.
The top button of my shirt is open, so she slides her hand through the
opening. Her fingers are warm and needy, just like the rest of her. My cock
is still wet from the last time we fucked but you’d think, given how full my
balls are right now, that I’d been celibate for months.
“Kiska…”
“Hm?” She’s practically grinding on my leg. And given my position, it’s
entirely obvious how hard I am. Her hand glides over my chest, down
towards my erection.
I could stop her. I should stop her.
But I don’t.
“Was this the plan all along, my needy little kiska?” I growl. “Is that why
you’re grinding all over me? Was the last time not enough for you?”
You’d think that would stop her. But she meets my gaze boldly. “It bothered
me for a split second yesterday, when you called me your whore.” She
palms my cock and starts rubbing slowly. “But I realized today: you can
call me anything you want—as long as you also call me yours.”
Fuck me.
My lips crash against hers. I push her back against the bed and get on top.
I’ll worry about the consequences of my complete lack of discipline
tomorrow. For right now, I want to claim her. I want to own her. I want to
consume her.
For all her betrayal, all her deception and all the lies, there’s no denying it
anymore: the woman belongs to me.
One betrayal’s not gonna change that.

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 EMMA

I wake up to an empty bed rich with his scent.

I’m not sure how to feel right now. My body is sore in the best possible
way. I feel calmer than I have in weeks.
But I don’t trust this feeling.
Last night comes back to me in short, vivid bursts. The moment he pushed
inside me, his thick girth filling me up with one hard thrust. The moment
our palms met, chests met, foreheads met, like we were zippered together,
sharing air and a heartbeat. Eyes flashing. Sweat between us, salty and pure.
Too many moments like that.
I want more of them and I want less at the same time. How much longer can
this strange back-and-forth go on between us? How long can we stand on
quicksand and expect not to be sucked beneath the surface?
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and roll over. That’s when I notice the piece
of paper pinned beneath my phone on the bedside table.
He left me a note?
I jump for it as though it’s about to disappear at any moment. Definitely
Ruslan’s handwriting. Hungrily, I lap up his words, hoping for something
personal.
The note contains the name and number of one of his lawyers, Isabel Costa,
as well as the name and number of a child therapist, Alicia Young.
I sit back in bed, the note still clutched between my fingers. One is to help
me keep custody of the children. The other is to make sure that they’re
happy and healthy. I suppose in a way, it is personal; it is sweet.
Maybe this is his way of showing me how much he cares. If not for me,
then at least for the children.
Although last night went a long way in showing me that whatever we
shared before everything went to shit is not totally gone.
Maybe I gave up too fast. After he accused me of betraying him, I just
stopped trying to convince him otherwise. That was just pride on my part. If
he was so sure that I was a backstabbing bitch, then I figured I would just
let him think that. Was I really going to degrade myself by begging him to
hear my side of the story when it was clear he didn’t want to?
But now, it feels silly and juvenile. Of course I should have forced him to
hear my side of the story. I should have screamed it at his back if I had to!
Anything to make him hear me. It isn’t about us; it’s about the child we’re
going to be raising together. That child deserves some semblance of peace
and normalcy.
So do the other three.
The first thing I do is call Alicia Young. She’s polite and professional and
she agrees to make a house call after breakfast to speak to Josh.
After I get dressed and go downstairs, I prepare Josh for the appointment.
He’s quiet and thoughtful but he doesn’t seem reluctant to talk to her. I get
in a few quick words of advice before he tells me, “I get it, Aunt Emma.
It’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her.”
The girls are in the pool when Alicia arrives. She’s younger than I expect,
probably in her mid-thirties with a stylish bob and thick, purple-rimmed
glasses that go a long way in winning me over.
Josh hangs back on the patio while I approach Alicia. “I’m Emma.”
She smiles pleasantly. “Mr. Oryolov explained the situation to me on the
phone. I’m just gonna spend fifty minutes with Josh, get to know him a
little bit.” She pats me on the elbow. “You have nothing to worry about.”
I give her a shaky smile in return. “I wish it were that simple.”
“I understand that you feel the onus of responsibility—but trust me, Emma:
the hardest thing you can do as a parent is ask for help. No person is an
island.”
That actually does make me feel a little better. It also makes me hopeful that
Dr. Alicia can help Josh. She walks over and introduces herself to him and I
eavesdrop as she spends a few minutes asking him easy questions.
How old are you? What do you like to read? You play basketball? What
team do you like?
After a while, Josh’s shoulders have relaxed considerably and he’s actually
talking animatedly about the basketball team he played on last season.
She’s good. I shouldn’t be surprised. Ruslan would have made sure to enlist
only the very best. I wonder bitterly how long her vetting process took.
When she signals to me that they’re ready, I direct Dr. Alicia and Josh to the
room on the ground floor that’s been dedicated as his therapy room. Then I
spend the next fifty minutes sitting by the pool, picking at my nails and
trying to let the girls distract me.
Please let it go well. Please let it go well. Please let it—
“Aunt Emma, Joshie’s waving for you,” Caroline informs me.
I jerk out of the pool chair and rush inside where Josh and Alicia are
waiting for me. I study Josh’s face for any signs of a mental breakdown.
But all I see is an easy smile.
“Can I go swim now, Auntie Em?” he asks eagerly.
“Of course, honey. Have fun.”
He high-fives Dr. Alicia goodbye and runs outside to join his sisters.
“How’d it go?” I ask the moment he’s out of earshot.
“He’s a wonderful kid, Emma. You’ve done a great job.”
I cringe nervously. “You don’t have to cushion it for me. Just tell me
straight: how badly have I screwed him up?”
She raises her eyebrows. Then she puts her hand on my shoulder and looks
me in the eye. “He’s a strong and resilient boy. He does struggle with anger
and resentment, but that’s aimed squarely on his parents, mostly at his
father. None of it is for you or Mr. Oryolov. In fact, as far as I can see based
on that first session, the two of you are his heroes.”
Those words are a balm for my soul. It’s enough to make me want to throw
my arms around the doctor and kiss her. If it weren’t totally inappropriate,
I’d freaking do it.
“Really? You’re not just screwing with me?”
She nods. “He may be only eight, but he’s one of the most observant, most
aware kids I’ve ever met. He knows exactly how much you’ve sacrificed to
take care of him and his sisters. He’s also extremely grateful to Ruslan for
taking all of you in and giving you a home. It seems that, for the first time
in a while, he feels safe.”
He’s not the only one who’s thankful to Ruslan for that.
“I do think I should start seeing him at least once a week,” she adds. “It’s
important that he’s able to talk to an objective person about everything
that’s going on. He doesn’t want to burden either you or Ruslan with
anything.”
“But we want him to!”
“I understand. But for right now, I think you need to give him time and
space, so that he can come to you eventually. Oh, and Emma?”
“Yes?”
“You haven’t screwed him up. Believe me: you saved that child. And you
should be proud of it.”
It doesn’t get much better than a professional telling you you’re not a shitty
mother. “You better get out of here now before I do something crazy and
kiss you,” I warn her.
She laughs. “See you next week, Emma. I’m already looking forward to it.”
After she’s gone, I walk back to the pool and lean against the French doors.
Josh is splashing his sisters, laughing louder than I’ve heard him laugh in a
while.
I find myself wishing that Ruslan were here to hear this. I wish he were
here so that I could tell him that Josh is gonna be okay.
And he’s a big reason why.

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

I need to put some distance between myself and all this accountability I’ve
been avoiding since Emma landed in my home. Kirill’s call gave me the
excuse I needed to get the fuck out from underneath her pleading blue eyes.
Those eyes are the heart of the damn problem, because they make a man
want to do crazy things.
Like… forgive.
Like forget.
Like apologize.
My phone pings with coordinates for a location, sent by Kirill. It’s smack
dab in the middle of nowhere. I get into one of my more understated
vehicles, a black Range Rover, and load the location details into my GPS.
Then I call Kirill from the car.
“Well?”
“We’ve got the place surrounded. It’s a fuckin’ dump.”
“Who zeroed in on the location?”
“Credit goes to Vadim here. Your unc really pulled through for us.”
Nice to know my uncle is more than just an outdated figurehead with a
breeding fetish.
“Is he there, too?”
“Yup. He and his team are on the other side of the house. We’re trying to
determine if it’s booby-trapped.”
I snort. “You really think Adrik has the resources for that if he picked a
shithole to keep one of the most valuable assets he’s stolen from me?”
“There are cameras everywhere,” Kirill muses dubiously. “We’ve
pinpointed at least seven around the perimeters of the property and the tech
squad is still working on identifying any we might be missing. Speaking of,
do you want me to take them down before we move in?”
“No,” I growl. “I want that fucker to see me take back what’s mine. Then I
want him to watch as I burn down everything else.”
“Aye-aye, captain. ETA?”
“Seven minutes.”
“See you soon.”
When I get to the location—which lives up to Kirill’s description as a
desolate shithole miles away from civilization—Vadim is standing outside
one of the SUVs with my second-in-command lounging at his side and
murmuring rapid-fire into a walkie-talkie.
“Decided to join the party?” Vadim asks with a toothy smile.
“Congratulations, Uncle. I heard that you’re the man to thank for this find.
You’ll have to tell me how you did it.”
He seems jumpy as he gives me a distracted smile. “I don’t want to be
accused of bragging. We should really move fast.”
“No need to worry. Adrik doesn’t have the balls to challenge me openly. It’s
why he’s resorting to all these underhanded methods of attack. He knows he
doesn’t stand a chance otherwise.”
Vadim’s gaze flickers across the property. “You’re that sure we’re dealing
with Adrik here?”
“Who else could it be?”
He shrugs. “Not everyone loves the Bratva.”
“Okay,” Kirill says as he turns his attention up to us. “It looks like we’re
dealing with a dozen men. Fourteen, at the most.”
Fourteen? The number feels low, considering what they’re protecting. What
the hell is Adrik up to?
Vadim seems to be thinking the same thing I am. “Adrik’s clearly got the
Venera formula duplicated by now. Sergey has served his purpose. Losing
him now won’t be a huge loss.”
“Maybe not,” I snarl, reaching a sudden decision point. “But he’s still my
man and I’m not going to leave him to rot in there.” I raise my fist in the air
and bring it down hard, giving my men the signal to move in from the
surrounding territory. “We don’t need prisoners. Kill them all.”
Vadim’s eyes flit to me. “Your father would advise mercy.”
“And what would you advise?”
He flinches before sighing. “Kill them all.”
Nodding, I pull out my gun and follow my men into the house. The first
gunshot breaks the silence. After that, it’s a no-holds-barred free-for-all.
The air comes alive with the smell of blood and the groans of our dying
enemies.
It’s over far faster than I’d hoped for. Mere minutes after the violence
begins, silence resumes. My men clear a path for me to the back of the
house where Sergey is being held. I have to kick the door down to enter it.
Debris flies as the old wood cracks and splinters beneath my heel.
We sweep through, guns at the ready, but there’s no need. The room is
empty but for one person.
Sergey is chained to a chair in one dusty, cobwebbed corner. He’s slumped
over, his neck bent, his chin hanging down to his chest. He’s not conscious.
In fact, it looks like he’s barely breathing.
Which means only one thing: he may have cracked, but it took extreme
torture to do it.
“Kirill!” I roar.
A few more straggling gunshots sound—executing the last of Adrik’s
rabble—and then everything goes quiet. Kirill rushes into the room a
moment later.
“Is he dead?” he blurts as soon as he clocks the scene.
I check his pulse. “He’s still with us. But barely. We need to get him to a
hospital immediately.”
“On it.”
After Sergey has been stretchered out to the caravan of SUVs, I step over
one of the enemy bodies strewn in the hallway and turn to Andrey, a
lieutenant waiting at attention for my next batch of orders. Lucky for him,
the next step is simple.
“Burn the whole fucking place down.”
Then I get into the same SUV that’s transporting Sergey to the hospital. As
we pull away, plumes of smoke start to spiral out from the inside of the
dilapidated building. It should take only a few minutes for the fire to
consume and destroy the whole structure.
I’m coming for you, asshole, I whisper silently to Adrik, wherever the hell
he might be. And when I’m done, a little fire will be the least of your
concerns.

It takes hours in the hospital before Sergey opens his eyes. Well, one eye. It
appears that his left eye is going to stay closed for a while.
He blinks and sighs with the reluctant hesitation of a man who’d rather just
close it and succumb to the darkness.
They put him through hell. He has half a dozen broken ribs, a shattered
nose, a fractured leg, chemical burns across his right arm and patches of
skin missing from his left. The scans show the inside of his body is as much
of a wreck as the outside. Lung collapsed, organs bruised and bleeding.
I think about writing it all down so I can make sure to repeat the exact same
pattern with Adrik.
“Sergey.”
He starts quivering in place. The monitors he’s attached to start beeping
with alarm. A nurse rushes to his side. “Sir, he can go into cardiac arrest if
he panics like that.”
“Sergey,” I try again, softer this time. “You have nothing to fear anymore.
You’re safe now.”
His lone working eye flickers to the nurse and then back to me. “I-I… t-told
them… the formula… I t-t-told them…”
I give the nurse a dismissive grunt. “Could we have a moment?”
As soon as she leaves, I sit down on the chair next to Sergey’s bed. “I
know.”
He gulps. Apparently even that hurts because he flinches and groans softly.
“A-are you going to k-k-kill me?”
“No.”
His eye goes as wide as it can. “W-why?”
“Because you endured all of this—” My hand sweeps to gesture down
toward his broken body. “—before you cracked. And for that, you have my
respect and my gratitude.”
He stares at me with his mouth hanging open. “Am I d-dreaming?”
I stand up and he flinches back again. “I misjudged you. I assumed that it
wouldn’t take much to make you talk. But I was wrong. You have nothing
to fear. You won’t have anything to fear ever again. You’re safe now,
Sergey. You have my word.”
Tears start slipping down his cheeks in tiny rivulets. But the fear still hasn’t
left his gaze. “I-I’m not safe. I will never b-be safe…”
“Yes,” I repeat, “you will. Because I am going to find the man who did this
to you and I’m going to make sure he receives the exact same treatment.”
Sergey flinches. “S-sir… if it’s all the same to you… I’d rather just… live
in peace.” More stray tears run down his face. “I’m done with this life…”
He says it hesitantly, glancing at me and away and back again the entire
time, waiting to see what form my wrath will take.
But there’s no wrath to be found here. None for Sergey, at least. I’m a cold-
hearted bastard—but I reward loyalty.
“If that’s what you want, my friend, then I will arrange it. The old Sergey
will die in this place. All the official records will confirm it. But you can
choose the shape of your new life. Pick your name, your home—choose
what you want to be and I’ll make it all yours.”
His breath hitches up in his chest and his bottom lip trembles. It’s the most
emotion he can possibly show, given the damage to his body.
“I take care of the people who have been loyal to me, Sergey.” I get to my
feet. “Kirill will have your new documents ready in a few days. Until then,
rest. Your body will heal.”
His mind, on the other hand… That might take much longer to heal, if it
heals at all. The most I can do is help him transition into a civilian life so
that he can try and forget his previous one.
The moment I leave the hospital room, I pull my phone out and call Kirill.
Seeing Sergey like that has put things into sharp perspective. There’s
something I need to take care of and the sooner it’s done, the better.
“I need you to draw up new papers for Sergey. New ID, new passport, the
works. He wants out.”
There’s a beat of silence. “And you’re okay with that? We’ll lose his
expertise.”
“Then I’ll find another expert. Sergey has done his time. He deserves the
chance at a different kind of life.” I clear my throat. “But before you get on
that, I need you to call an emergency meeting for tonight. The Oryolov
inner circle.”
“Fuck me. Really?”
I look out at the city skyline in the distance. Somewhere out there is Emma.
Adrik. The kids. All the different pieces of this game, scurrying around
beneath the cover of the shadows. One way or another, this will come to an
end soon.
I intend to make it the finish I desire.
“Yes. There’s something I need to take care of.”

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

The Oryolov inner circle.

It’s no joke, I’ll tell you that much.
The last time an all-hands meeting was called, it was to establish succession
and determine who would succeed Fyodor as pahkan. This is the first time
I’ve ever called such a council myself. All six men sitting around the dining
table of my Manhattan penthouse know it’s important. Most of them also
know to hide their curiosity a little better than my uncle does. Vadim’s
never met a moment of suspense that he’s liked yet.
“Don’t keep us waiting any longer, nephew,” he calls out. “Why are we all
here?”
I keep my back on the table while I finish the shot of whiskey I just poured
myself. Then I walk to the head of the table. “Thank you for being here
tonight on such short notice.”
Vadim’s eyes stay fixed on me with eagle-eyed precision. He’s barely
blinking. “No one here would ever dream of turning down an invitation
from their pahkan,” he murmurs.
I nod. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors.”
“Which ones?” he asks with a chuckle. “There have been so many.”
“The ones relating to my assistant.”
Fyodor’s head snaps from the view out the window to me. The only change
in his expression is a slight arch in his eyebrow, but I know my father well
enough to interpret that as keen interest. The rest of my senior vors lean in.
Vadim is the only one who sinks back in his chair, a smug smile spreading
across his face.
“The contract is real,” he proclaims. He slams a fist on the table. “I fucking
knew it!”
I narrow my eyes. “This so-called ‘contract’ is merely a rumor,” I say
dismissively. “I’m here to talk about Emma Carson and her children.”
“What about them?” Vadim asks impatiently.
“They are in my home now and under my protection. They will be from
now onwards.”
I’m aware that my revelation is not very clear. I haven’t explained what
Emma is to me or why she happens to be in my home and under my
protection. That will come later. First, I have to figure out a way to explain
it to myself.
“Is she your woman or not, nephew?” Vadim asks bluntly.
The beast inside me roars to life. Mine. If there was ever a question, that
answers it right away. I’m not about to deny it now.
“Yes,” I growl, “she is. And as such, those three children are mine as well.”
The vors look shocked. Mikael has paled, Arkady’s nonexistent eyebrows
are raised to the roof, and Nikolai’s gaze keeps darting from face to face.
Even Vadim looks taken aback.
Fyodor is the only one who’s smiling. He raises his glass of gin. “Well, then
congratulations are in order.”
That seems to snap everyone else out of their stupor. They raise their
glasses, too, albeit hesitantly. I understand the shock, though—I’ve always
been very vocal about remaining unattached. This change must seem abrupt
from their perspective.
From mine, though, it only seems inevitable.
Vadim’s dark eyes twinkle with mischief when they land on me. “Can we
expect a wedding anytime soon, Ruslan?”
I nearly choke on my whiskey, even as images of Emma in a white gown,
walking down the aisle toward me, invade my head and refuse to be
dismissed. “That’s premature. The only reason I bring it up is because it is
relevant for our defenses against Adrik Makarov.”
My father nods. “You have my full support, syn. As do your woman and the
children.”
It’s been years since I heard my father sound so strong. I’m not even sure if
“strong” is the right word. Just more certain than he has been since we lost
the rest of our family.
Whatever you’d call it, it seems to act as a signal to the rest of my men.
“Of course, your family can count on my protection, too,” Mikael chimes
in.
Arkady raises his glass a little higher. “And mine.”
“And mine,” Nikolai adds.
I give them all an appreciative nod. “I appreciate you all. Spasibo.”
Kirill stands up and meets my gaze over the heads of the sitting men.
“Guess it’s time to celebrate then. Let’s bust out the cigars.”
Once there’s a comfortable smoke haze floating over us, Fyodor turns to
me. “You have made me proud today.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Claiming a woman has made you proud?”
He shakes his head. “Taking on the responsibility of a family is what has
made me proud. You are never so focused as when you have something to
protect. Trust me, son: there is no greater reward, no greater blessing than
creating a family.”
“In Ruslan’s case, his family has come ready-made,” Vadim butts in with a
smile, helping himself to his second cigar. “Tell me, nephew: will you name
the bastard boy your heir or do you actually plan on making one yourself?”
His tone rankles. It’s poisonous, the way he talks about them. Bastard boy. I
don’t like that one fucking bit. Nor do I like the subtle irritation dancing
beneath his words, the suggestion that his birthright is being snatched away
from him once again.
But I can understand it, even if I despise it. I’ll forgive his resentment—
well, not forgive, but I’ll turn a blind eye to it. It doesn’t matter in the end.
Vadim might not like my choices, but he will not oppose his pahkan. He
wouldn’t dare.
Family is everything. It is the one absolute rule that he has always followed
no matter the circumstances.
“That is premature as well, Uncle Vadim,” I say icily.
“There’s no rush,” Fyodor agrees. “After all, Emma and Ruslan have time
to make plenty of babies.”
Like the thought of Emma in a gown, images of her and me with a few
children of our own pops into my head far too quickly. It makes me feel…
infinite. Damn near invincible. This is the first time I’ve understood what
Fyodor and Vadim meant when they used to talk about legacy.
Emma as my wife. The children we already have gathered around us. More
of them yet to come bundle up in her arms, in mine.
The feeling that stirs up… I don’t know how to name it or what to do with
it.
But God knows it’s doing something to me.
Perhaps that’s why I decide to drop the bomb on them now. “The first one is
already on the way.”
Vadim’s head snaps towards me. Fyodor’s mouth pops open. “The woman
is pregnant?” my uncle asks, stunned.
I nod, but I’m focused more on my father. I thought he was already as
upbeat as I’ve seen him in years. This, though… I’ve never seen him look
like this. It’s unsettling, mostly because it reminds me of a time when he
smiled often. Those smiles were usually reserved for my mother.
“An heir…” Vadim breathes. He still looks shell-shocked. “Are you sure?”
“She’s just completed her first trimester.”
“This is… This is… My God.”
“Have I turned you speechless, uncle? I didn’t think it was possible.”
He clears his throat, grabs his glass, and stands up. “A toast,” he says
gruffly. “To the future heir of the Oryolov Bratva.”
Everyone cheers to my unborn child. There’s this strange, burgeoning
feeling in my chest that I can’t quite name. Satisfaction? Joy? Pride?
When Vadim settles back into his seat, I address the whole table. “For now,
I want Emma’s pregnancy kept under wraps. It’s a dangerous time for the
Oryolov Bratva and I need to make sure she and the children are removed
from it all.”
A murmur of agreement rises from the table. I sit back, feeling more
confident than I have in a while.
I have a plan.
But most importantly, I have a family.
Now, the one thing I have left to do is to figure out a way to keep it.

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

Keeping my family begins here. At the offices of The Brooklyn Gazette.

For starters, that name’s got to go. It stinks of shoddy reporting and
lowbrow paparazzi. Considering Remmy Jefferson has a tiny cubicle down
the hall, that about confirms it.
This building is gonna need a fucking makeover, too.
I don’t plan on coming here often, but when I do, I want somewhere to sit
that doesn’t erupt with cockroaches the moment my ass touches the chair.
There’s a tentative knock on my door and then the portly assistant whose
name I’ve already forgotten pokes her head inside.
“Sir? He’s here. Should I send him in?”
I smile. It’s a day for genuine grins. Things are happening now that
should’ve happened a long, long time ago. “Please.”
She holds the door open and Remmy Jefferson walks in looking extremely
confused. His confusion transforms to shock when he sees me sitting at the
desk that, only last evening, belonged to someone else entirely.
His nostrils flare with panic when the door snaps closed behind him. He
looks around the barren office like I might have goons here ready to beat
him senseless.
No need. I can do that myself.
“W-where’s Leonard?”
I cock my legs and lean back in the rickety chair. “Leonard? I don’t know a
Leonard. Unless… Oh! Of course. Silly me. Do you mean Leonard
Mathers, publisher and editor-in-chief of The Brooklyn Gazette? That
Leonard?”
He bares his teeth at me. “Yes. That Leonard. What have you done to him?”
I take the name plaque that sits obnoxiously at the front of the table. I
observe it with interest for a moment before I toss it in the trash can.
Leonard Mathers. “So many things to get rid of…” I muse under my breath.
But I’ll start with the biggest piece of trash in front of me.
“I’ll call security,” Remmy blurts.
I laugh at that one. “And tell them what?”
“That you’ve abducted our publisher and… and done God knows what to
him!” His fingers are trembling, as is his lip. His skin has lost what little
color he had left. He looks like a walking ghost.
Soon, he’s going to be a real one.
“There’s no reason to involve God,” I scold. “You can just ask me what I’ve
done to him. Or you could ask the board, too. They know what happened to
Leonard Mathers as well.”
Remmy’s eyes go wide as his tiny little brain finally starts putting all the
pieces together. “T-there’s been talk the last few days. Talk of a… b-buyer
for the paper…”
I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any paler. Remmy has taught
me one thing today, at least.
I spread my arms wide to encompass this whole godforsaken building.
“Welcome to my newspaper, Mr. Jefferson.”
He balks. “No. No! It’s not possible. It’s too fast. It’s—”
“Done,” I growl. “It’s already fucking done. Of course I had to pay a little
extra to get Leonard out of my seat so fast but when you have money like I
do, what’s an extra million or two between friends?”
He looks like he’s going to be sick.
“If you’re about to throw up, aim for the window,” I order. “This office
smells bad enough as it is.”
“Y-you can’t do this.”
I shrug. “I already have. I am the official owner of The Brooklyn Gazette.
That name’s going the same way Leonard went, by the way. As a matter of
fact—everything is going.”
Remmy’s eyes are a fraction away from popping out of their sockets
entirely. “Y-you did this to stop my article from circulating. My exposé on
you. You did this to stop it.”
I shake my head calmly. “I did this to protect my family.”
“You did this to salvage your reputation.”
“My reputation was never in danger. Yours, on the other hand… Well, it’s
precarious, to say the least.”
“You’re going to fire me?”
“Once the paper has printed retractions of your articles, I’m going to be
ordering an exposé of my own. Your name will look good in a headline, I
think. Reporter Caught Fabricating Lies, Harassing Witnesses. ‘Phlegmy
Remmy,’ they’ll call you. Leonard suggested that himself. Has a nice ring
to it.”
He shakes his head and stumbles backwards. His hands paw at the air in
search of something to hold onto, but he comes up empty. “No… you’re
gonna ruin me. No one will hire me ever again…”
I smirk. “Trust me, Mr. Jefferson: that is the least of your concerns.”
His eyes dart around the office again, probably looking for the red sniper
dot he thinks is aimed at his forehead. “W-what do you want from me?”
“It’s a little late to be asking that question, don’t you think?”
He reverses course and stumbles forward, fear winning out over every other
emotion as he collapses to his knees in front of my desk. “Are you g-going
to k-kill me?”
“It does seem like the cleanest way to end this.”
He sucks his breath and teeters from side to side like a puppet on clipped
strings. “Please. Please, I’ll do anything. Anything. Just let me live.”
I lean forward and regard him. If anything, he’s even more pitiful than I
pictured he would be. I suppose he’s taught me two things today.
You can always sink lower.
“Alright then. Let’s start with an honest conversation, shall we?”
He gulps. “W-what do you want to know?”
“Start from the beginning. Start from the moment you approached Emma
for the first time.”
He’s shivering violently. His hands grip the head of the chair as he struggles
to breathe, to think, to talk. “If I tell you everything, will you let me live?”
I tilt my head to the side and consider it. “That depends on how honest you
are.”
Words start pouring out of his mouth in a repulsive, stuttering torrent. “I f-
followed her, okay? Even after she said no. Even after she told me to take a
hike. That’s what you want to hear, right? I figured I just needed to wear her
down. Figured that, if I waited around long enough, you’d kick her to the
curb, treat her like shit. All you rich men, you treat women the same, like
they’re dispensable—” He eyes me warily but when I don’t say anything,
he continues. “I figured she’d get her feelings hurt and then she’d come
running to me.”
“And when that didn’t happen, you decided to continue stalking her?”
His tongue flicks out to moisten his thin, chapped lips. “I was following a
story; I’m a reporter. It’s my job to do anything for a story.”
“Does that include pushing a defenseless woman down a flight of stairs?”
He stops short. His gaze drops. He’s sweating now. Beads of perspiration
roll down the sides of his forehead despite the fact that it’s actually quite
cool in here. It’ll be even cooler in just a moment, when I throw this poor
bastard’s body through the window.
“It w-wasn’t like that! I didn’t push her. I fell; I must have taken her down
with me.”
Anger is coursing through my veins now. The mere thought of this son of a
bitch laying hands on Emma, pulling her tumbling down the stairs…
He must see the bloodlust on my face, because he gulps loud enough to
echo around the tiny office. “I wasn’t looking to hurt her, okay? I just
wanted to get her to talk!”
“And when you realized she was unconscious at the bottom of those
stairs… Tell me, Jefferson: what did you do then?”
We both know what he did. He ran. I’ve seen the fucking footage. But I
want to hear him say it. I get to my feet and he scoots back on all fours like
the roach that he is.
“Y-you promised you wouldn’t kill me!”
I laugh and crack my knuckles. “I don’t remember making any such
promise. Just like you don’t seem to remember what happened after you
pulled Emma down that staircase with you. Memories are tricky things,
aren’t they?”
He’s drooling in his terror. It slicks his wobbly chin and the front of his
stained shirt. The man disgusts me in every way possible. “I left, okay?” he
cries out, more spittle flying everywhere. “I saw that she was unconscious
and I fucking ran.”
“Like the coward you are. Say it. Say what you are.”
Emma was pregnant then. I don’t expect this weasel to know it, but it makes
all the difference in the world. She had my baby inside of her when he took
her down those stairs. She had my future in her womb.
“Y-yes… I’m a c-coward.”
I saunter around the desk and he keeps backing up so far that he hits the
shelf on the opposite wall and dislodges a couple of books that rain down
on his head.
“Keep going. You’re not done with this story yet.”
“I kept following—”
“Stalking,” I snap. “Don’t sugar coat what you did.”
He swallows. “I kept stalking Emma… and I noticed how things were
between her and her brother-in-law.”
I nod grimly. So far, Jefferson’s version of events is lining up with Emma’s
story.
“I approached him one day and offered him a payout if he agreed to help
me dig up dirt on you and Emma. So he started snooping around for me. A
few days later, he found the contract in the glove compartment of her car. I
recorded that conversation. It’s on a flash drive in my top desk drawer.”
Goddammit. I mean, I’m relieved. But I’m also pissed off.
With myself, mostly.
She never sold me out. She never betrayed me. It was her deadbeat leech of
a brother-in-law who turned her life upside down just to make a quick buck.
“Th-that’s it, okay?” Jefferson pleads. “That’s everything. I told you
everything. Just please, let me—”
I swoop down, haul him up by the spit-flecked front of his shirt, and break
his sentence off with a fist to his face. I let go of him as the blow lands, so
he goes smashing into the wall-mounted shelves. The drywall crumbles
instantly and the whole thing caves in on him, a shower of books and wood
and asbestos raining on the mudak’s head.
He’s a sniveling pile of limbs as I advance closer. His nose is once again
broken to bits, courtesy of me. I’d say he’ll need surgery to fix it, but he
won’t live long enough for that to reach the top of his list of concerns.
He blinks open, face streaked with drywall dust, and wails like the little
bitch that he is. “P-please… don’t… don’t k-kill me…!” he sobs.
For what he put Emma through, for what he made me put her through, I
should fucking slaughter him right here, in the place where he signed his
own death warrant. But that would be too easy.
Death is too fucking good for this bastard.
I’ve changed my mind on the fate of Remmy Jefferson. I don’t want to
execute him here and now; I want him to live the rest of his days, never
knowing which one will be the last. I want him to look over his shoulder
every time he steps out of his house, never knowing which shadow will be
the one that swallows him up for good. I want fear to be the only thing he
can taste. I want him never to sleep again.
Or at least, that’s what I’ve decided now. Who knows? I might change my
mind again in the next minute or so.
“Listen closely, you useless little cockroach. You come within two states of
Emma or those children ever again and I will kill you with my bare hands.
I’ll do it in public, too, in broad daylight just to prove that I can. You hear
me?”
He nods fast. There’s hope in his agreement. The desperate need to believe
that, even though he might have lost everything else, he gets to keep his
life.
“Good. Now, get out of my fucking sight.”
He scrambles onto his hands and knees and crawls to the door. He uses the
handle to pull himself back up and then he rushes out without a backward
glance.
Before the door closes on him, Kirill slips in. “You let him live?” he
exclaims incredulously as he turns to listen to the sound of Remmy fleeing.
“After what he did to Emma?” I bare my teeth. “No fucking way. I’m just
giving him a head start. Send a team after him tomorrow.”
Kirill gives me a satisfied nod. “‘After what he did to Emma,’ huh? That’s
the cardinal sin? You know, that’s something she might like to hear.”
I take a deep breath. “After everything I said to her, after how I’ve treated
her, it will take a lot more than that to fix things between us.” I crack my
knuckles and sigh. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Kirill smiles with palpable relief. “Fucking finally.”

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OceanofPDF.com
 EMMA

The kids have just gone down to the gardens with Amelia when I notice the
message on my lockscreen.
RUSLAN: Be outside in 5 minutes.
It was sent three minutes ago. Which means I have two minutes to get my
ass outside.
Except why? His message is just as informative as he has been lately and
it’s making me nervous. Not just because this is the first time in weeks that
he’s deigned to text me at all; it’s also the first contact between us since I
word-vomited my confession all over him yesterday. Since then—radio
silence.
Until this ominous five-word text.
Is he working off some sort of guidebook I’m not aware of? Intrigue and
suspense building: how to bring the drama. Chapter 5 in A Pahkan’s
Guide to Intimidation and World Domination.
His Range Rover is zooming up the drive as I walk down the steps. He
whips a full turn and stops just in front of me, inch-perfect. He leans over
and pushes the door open.
I get in hoping he’ll fill me in, but no explanation seems forthcoming as he
immediately shifts back into drive and we take off again. I figure he’ll
explain when he’s ready. But after ten minutes, he’s as silent as the night.
And he looks about as friendly.
“Ruslan?” His eyes flicker in my direction and then back to the road.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I’m halfway between a scared gulp and an annoyed scowl. This is all
happening in a week where I’m supposed to be especially mindful of my
blood pressure. But I can feel the stress sweats coming on. It always starts
at the palms.
He turns the corner and I frown. This is my neighborhood. Or at least, it
used to be.
“Are you taking me back to the apartment?”
“Yes.”
Okay, breathe. Breathe. Remember to stay calm for the baby. Think about
your freaking blood pressure! Of course, all that does is make me sweat
more. Somehow, I don’t think additional sweat will help.
I glance towards Ruslan, who remains uninterested in looking at me. Is it
because he’s done? He didn’t buy my explanation and now, he just wants to
get rid of me? He’s gonna drop me off with Ben and let him finish me off?
I’m gonna lose custody of my kids anyway?
What is happening?
Blood pressure!
It’s a really fucked-up version of He loves me, he loves me not.
I’m spiraling but I have no idea how to turn my mind off or my heartbeat
down. “Ruslan,” I say, swallowing hard, “you’re making a huge mistake.”
“No, I’m not,” he replies, completely stone-cold. “I’m fixing one.”
Maybe I could open the door and kind of cannonball my way out of this
car? I glance towards the speedometer. He’s doing a casual eighty. Yeah,
that’s definitely gonna kill me.
What if I just leap out and run the moment he stops driving? I bite my
bottom lip, knowing full well that that would end terribly. I’ve never been
the fastest runner. I joined track because Sienna joined track. After a couple
of training sessions, the coach told me that I should consider going out for
theater instead.
By the time he parks outside my Hell’s Kitchen apartment, I’m no longer
surprised. I’m strangely resigned. Maybe it’s time to accept my fate. I’m not
meant to be the guardian of those kids. It seems the universe is
unequivocally opposed to it.
“Come on,” Ruslan orders once we’re parked.
I don’t even try to run. I just slink after him into the building and up to the
fourth floor. I can hear Ben puttering around in there. My skin crawls at the
thought of seeing him again.
Ruslan is about to knock when I stop him with a hand to his arm. “Wait!”
He glances at me impassively. “What about the kids?”
He frowns. “The kids are fine.”
“You’ll look after them?”
His frown gets the tiniest bit deeper. “Of course I will. You don’t ever have
to worry about them again.”
That’s good to know. I suppose there’s nothing left to do but to worry about
myself now. I swallow my tears as Ruslan knocks on the door.
Ben’s footsteps thump closer. He rips the door open wide before realizing
who’s standing there waiting for him. When he does, his jaw flops wide
open.
“What the fuck?”
Yeah. My thoughts exactly.
Then Ruslan slams his forehead right into Ben’s face, sending him keeling
backwards. If the coffee table had still been standing, he would have broken
through the glass the same way I had.
I’m so shocked that not even a gasp escapes my lips. I just stand there,
frozen to the threshold as Ben splutters up blood and half-formed expletives
from where he lands.
Ruslan grips my wrist and pulls me into the apartment. The door slams shut
behind us and he turns back to Ben, who’s still lying in a daze in the middle
of the stained carpet. There’s a pungent stink that clings to the walls. I’m
not surprised: Ben was never much of a housekeeper, even back in the
ancient days when he was a half-decent father.
“What kind of person, what kind of man, sells out the woman who’s been
taking care of his children?” Ruslan growls as he circles Ben like a predator
about to strike.
My jaw is hanging open.
Did I hear what I think I just heard?
“You saw how hard she worked for you and those kids. You saw how well
she looked after them. And instead of being grateful, you decided to take
fucking advantage. You joined forces with that lowlife piece of shit who
masquerades as a reporter and you decided to put yourself first. Did you
even think for a second about your children?”
Ben’s still gawking up at Ruslan with blood pouring out of both nostrils. He
looks like what he is: a man who’s just realized far, far too late that he
overplayed his hand and lost.
“No. No, of course you didn’t think about your children. You didn’t think
about Josh when you were threatening the boy with violence, making him
lie and steal for you. Why would you think of any of them now?”
Ben’s eyes veer to me. “E-Emma—”
Ruslan lunges between us. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare fucking look at
her. Not after how you betrayed her.”
I’m shivering from the weight of all this unexpected emotion. From the
realization of what’s actually happening, too.
Ruslan didn’t bring me here to abandon me to Ben.
He brought me here for justice.
Then, while my brain is still reeling, Ruslan pulls out a stack of clean white
papers and throws them onto the carpet next to Ben. “Try not to get blood
on those when you sign them.”
Ben glances down distractedly. Then his eyes catch on the words. “T-these
are custody papers.”
“Oh, how wonderful—it can read,” Ruslan snarls sarcastically. “Once you
sign those papers, legal and physical custody will pass from you to Emma.”
He shakes his head. “If I do that… I-I’ll lose them…”
“You mean you’ll lose your bargaining power? You’ll lose control of
Emma? Without those children, you can’t make her take your shit. That’s
what you’re really afraid of losing, aren’t you?”
Ben turns to me again, his eyes bright with pitiful tears. His nose is still
gushing blood and snot, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Em, listen to me. I know I haven’t been the best father or b-brother to you
—”
“I warned you not to do that,” Ruslan rumbles.
Ben continues as though Ruslan hadn’t spoken. “—but I-I’m just so fucking
miserable all the time. Without her, without my Sienna, nothing seems
worth it. She was my everything. She was my whole fucking world. P-
please… don’t let him do this…”
I can understand why he’s going with this strategy. It’s worked for him in
the past. In the months after Si’s death, I’d done my best to care for him. It’s
a phase, I thought. It’ll pass, I thought. But as the months went by and Ben
just kept getting worse and worse, I realized that he wasn’t just using me;
he was using Sienna, too.
He was using her death as an excuse to let himself go, to stop trying, to stop
caring.
I could have forgiven him if it was just me. But I can’t forgive him for what
he’s cost those children. I won’t forgive him for what he’s put them
through.
“I gave you so many chances, Ben,” I say softly. “I begged you to be better
for those kids. You keep using Sienna as an excuse, but the truth is, if she
were here right now, she’d be so damn ashamed of you.”
His face crumples up and he looks away. He doesn’t look at either one of us
when he speaks again. “Y-you can’t make me sign those papers.”
I close my eyes. Oh no, Ben. You shouldn’t have said that.
When I open them again, I see Ruslan squatting so he’s eye level with Ben.
“Let me be very clear. You have two choices here: sign and you get to live.
Refuse? You die and we get the kids anyway.”
I do a confused double-take. Did he just say “we”?
Ben sneers, blood crusting around his upper lip. “Why let me live at all?”
Ruslan shrugs. “Because I don’t want to be responsible for taking away
their last living parent. Even if he is a worthless piece of shit.”
Tears pool in my eyes. I know exactly what it means for someone like
Ruslan to walk away from a man like Ben without exacting his pound of
flesh. The only reason Ben is being given a choice at all is because of how
much Ruslan loves those kids.
“Fine,” he spits at last. “I’ll sign.”
Ruslan flings a pen at him and I watch with bated breath as Ben scribbles
on the dotted line. Once he’s signed the last page, I wait for the relief to hit,
but still—nothing.
It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
Ruslan picks up the papers and folds them closed. “Just a little parting
advice: the moment you wake up, I’d start looking for another state to move
to. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Ben’s eyebrows knit together. “W-wake up?”
This time, I’m expecting the blow. Ruslan’s right arm swings forward and
makes violent contact with the side of Ben’s temple. Ben’s eyes roll back
and his body goes limp.
He looks oddly fake like this. Not a person anymore. Not a part of my life.
If I ever see him again, he’ll be a stranger.
Ruslan rises back to his feet and stretches. “He should come to in a few
hours, don’t worry.”
I frown. I’m not worried. Not about Ben, anyway.
“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand. “Let’s go home.”
Let’s go home. What a sentence. Still dazed, I take Ruslan’s hand and follow
him back into his SUV, trying to process everything that just happened.
Are the kids really mine? After all this time, I finally get them all to myself
without the burden of having to deal with Ben?
It feels surreal. It feels too good to be true.
I sneak a glance at Ruslan as we drive back to the estate. He hasn’t said a
word. But… all that back there—it has to mean he believes me now, right?
Somehow, I can’t bring myself to ask.
Because every time I feel like I’m on solid ground with Ruslan, something
happens that reminds me that it’s all just shifting quicksand that’s just
pretending to be concrete. It’s only real for a moment—then reality drags
me further down.
The moment we get back to the house, I run upstairs to check on the kids.
All three are tucked in their beds, sleeping peacefully. I back out of Josh’s
room and collide with Ruslan. His hands shoot out and grab me, twisting
me around to face him.
“You okay?”
He asks the question softly, like he truly cares about the answer.
I open my mouth but only a sob comes out. “Sorry,” I croak before I turn
tail and run into my bedroom.
He follows me in there. The moonlight coming through the window casts
everything in a fake-looking silvery glow. If this ends up being nothing but
a very realistic dream, I’m gonna be pissed tomorrow.
But even when I blink, even when I pinch myself, it doesn’t go away.
It stays.
I stay.
He stays.
I drop to a seat at the edge of my bed and try to breathe deeply. I need to
trust what just happened. I saw Ben sign those papers with my own two
eyes.
“Emma.”
I look up and Ruslan is standing in front of me. Before I can think of
something to say, he’s kneeling down.
“I made a mistake, Emma,” he says gently. “I should never have believed
that you were capable of betraying me. I should have trusted my instincts.”
I feel strangely numb. How long have I waited for him to say these exact
words?
“Then why didn’t you?”
Those amber eyes are burning with intensity. “Because you always felt too
good to be true. I was terrified from the beginning that I would lose you. I
suppose, when Kirill came to me with the news that Remmy had gotten his
hands on our contract, it was like a self-fulfilling prophecy coming to life. I
was so scared of losing you that I told myself it was easier if I was the one
who pushed you away first.” He clears his throat, eyes falling down for a
moment. Then he drags them back up to meet mine. “I can’t change the
past, Emma. All I can do now is make it up to you.”
My breath is pinned in my throat. “How do you plan on doing that?”
“By giving you my time and attention, to start with. By showing you with
time and patience just how important you are to me. And, for right now,
with an orgasm or five. For as long as you want it.”
My heart flutters and suddenly, I’m not numb anymore. In fact, there’s a
whole lot going on right now and it’s emanating from my nether regions.
Focus, Emma. Don’t let your vagina think she’s in charge.
I meet his scorching gaze. “I don’t want this to be just sex anymore,
Ruslan.”
He doesn’t flinch away from those words. “It’s so, so much more than that.”
He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips. He kisses my knuckles gently and
looks at me with a smile that makes my insides turn to putty. “Let me prove
it.”
How can I say no to that?

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 EMMA

He really does want to make it up to me.

That’s the last coherent thought in my head as Ruslan starts to eat me out,
his tongue slowly sucking away the tension in my spine and the wariness in
my heart.
He’s got his hands on the backs of my thighs as my legs rest on his
shoulders. I spend the next five minutes on the very cusp of a drool-worthy
orgasm, but every time I’m close, he keeps pulling back, teasing me with
the promise of all the pleasure he’s about to unleash on me.
It doesn’t take long before I’m nothing more than a quivering mess of nerve
endings. But my sensitivity doesn’t just begin and end with my body. I’m
on the verge of tears, too. The last few months come to me in short bursts.
Our first real kiss.
The first time we slept together, how nervous I was. How he stripped away
my clothes, then my fears. What a good girl you are. Spread your legs for
me. Now—touch yourself.
The night I realized I wasn’t his date, that that privilege belonged to Jessica
Allens.
When I woke up in the hospital and he was right there with me. All the
unpleasantness that followed…
None of it changed how I felt about him. He was still the man who saved
me from being Ben’s puppet and my parent’s stooge. He gave Josh new
confidence and fresh hope and showed him how to be something besides
just another angry, broken man with no outlet for his pain. He showed the
girls what it’s like to have a strong male figure ever-present in their lives.
Thanks to him, both Caroline and Reagan will pick men worth their time
instead of trying to correct past traumas by pursuing hollow carbon copies
of their fucked-up father.
He’s the savior I never dreamed of asking for.
He’s also the cause of so much of the pain and trauma he saved me from.
But how do you separate those things? One flows into the other and then
back into itself. He’s not all good and he’s not all evil. He’s something in
between. Superhero and flawed human all in one.
And now, he’s mine.
All mine.
Just like I’ve been his from the start.
His tongue glides over my clit and I gasp, my body twitching with pleasure.
“Ruslan…” I moan. “I can’t… ahh…”
He keeps stroking my clit with his tongue until I feel the orgasm finally take
over, roaring through me until it shrouds my body in warmth.
“That’s it, my little kiska. Let go. Just fucking let go.”
I want to. God, I so badly want to. But letting go isn’t that easy for me
anymore. Quicksand imitating concrete is still not concrete.
I blink and his face hovers over me, those scorching amber eyes clearer
than I’ve ever seen them.
“You’re crying,” he whispers.
I touch my face and discover that he’s right. Tears wet my cheeks and I’m
too tired, too spent to wipe them away. So Ruslan kisses them off my face,
making me shudder with new desire.
“Why are you crying?” he asks gently when he’s swallowed my tears.
I give him the honest answer. “I don’t know.”
We’re lying in the comfort of my bed, skin to skin, nothing between us. His
cock is pressed between my legs, nestled gently against my pussy. He’s
hard as rock but his erection isn’t demanding.
“Yes, you do. You’re just afraid to say it out loud.”
I hate that he knows me that well. “H-how can I trust this?” I whisper.
“How can you trust me, you mean?” His finger does slow circles on my
naked abdomen. “It won’t happen overnight. It’ll take time.” He keeps
kissing my neck. And my ears. And my face. And my breasts. It makes it
very hard to pay attention to what he’s saying between the kisses. “It’ll take
months of orgasms. Months of romantic dinners and expensive gifts.
Months of nights like this, lying here and talking about everything or
nothing at all. Maybe it’ll take years of all those things. And I’m okay with
that.”
I almost smile. “I don’t need expensive gifts.”
“You’re gonna get them anyway.”
“You can’t buy me, Mr. Oryolov.”
He lifts his head and looks down at me. I was teasing, but he’s not smiling
at all. “I know that,” he says with a fierceness that takes me back. “I’m not
trying to buy you; I’m trying to earn you.”
“That’s not how you do it.”
I would have thought this conversation would deflate his erection but he’s
still hard as ever. Maybe that’s why my pussy is dripping all over his tip.
“Then tell me how.”
“By being with me. By talking to me. By making me your equal partner.”
His lips follow my collarbone down to my breast. He circles the nipple with
his tongue and sucks on it delicately. “I’ve never had an equal partner in my
life. But I’m willing to learn how.”
Excitement spreads through my chest. I feel hot and cold at the same time.
“Really?”
“Really.” He pulls himself up a little and pushes my legs open a little wider.
His cock slides up and down my slit. I’m so wet that his head slides in
easily.
I moan. “Ruslan…”
“Any other demands before we forget how to talk, my little kiska?”
He’s still not all the way inside me and yet I can’t focus on a damn thing but
the feeling of him between my legs. I want him deep—I want him to fill me
up until I lose myself in him. I’m writhing around beneath him so much,
trying to force him inside me, that he pulls out completely.
“We’re having an important conversation,” he scolds, like I’m the one doing
all the teasing.
I grit my teeth. There is it again—emotional quicksand.
“I-I… ahh… can’t think…”
His tongue slides around my earlobe. Around and in and over. “What do
you want?” he rasps.
Unexpected words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I want to
be your dirty little whore.”
He chuckles and that sound alone makes me decide that this is exactly the
point I want to make. Because right now, all that matters is his cock at my
pussy and his lips on my skin.
“My dirty little whore, hm?” he growls, grinding his cock back against my
slit. He’s still not all the way in, though. He’s driving me crazy on purpose.
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Mm-hm…”
“I knew exactly what you would be to me from the moment I heard that
accidental voicemail you left me.” I’m so lost in desire that I don’t even
blush. “I heard your hungry moans, your desperate little gasps, and I knew
from that moment on exactly what you were.”
“Ahh… W-what… what was I?”
“Mine,” he growls. “All. Fucking. Mine.”
Then he thrusts inside me all at once. I cry out, spasming in every direction
as his arm slides around my body to pin me close to him. He fucks me hard,
slamming his hips into mine so hard that the sound reverberates around the
room.
My fists bunch up the bedsheets. My eyes roll back inside my head. He’s
relentless and all-consuming and it’s all I want.
I just want to feel like he’s real.
Especially when he starts fucking me even harder, wringing a second
orgasm from me until my body goes limp with exhaustion. He rolls me over
so that I’m lying face down on his chest. His fingers run down my spine
again, dragging little pathways through my sweaty back.
“I’m happy to tease you, Emma.” His tone is so serious that I have no
choice but to pay attention. “I’m happy for you to be my whore and my slut
in bed. But that’s where it ends.”
Goosebumps erupt over my skin. Where is this going?
“Outside of this bed, outside of my cock in your cunt, you are my woman.
My queen. And I’m going to take care of you as such. I’m going to spoil
you and I’m going to protect you. That goes for the kids, too. You, them—
you all belong to me now, Emma Carson. And if you ever leave, I will just
drag you back here. I will drag you back into my house and my bed because
this is where you fucking belong.”
My heart is thrumming so fast and pounding so loud in my ears that I’m
afraid I’m gonna miss something.
“You are mine,” he says again, hands hard on my hips. “You’re not going
anywhere. And neither am I.”
I just kiss his chest.
There’s nothing else that needs to be said.
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 RUSLAN

OceanofPDF.com
 COMPARTMENTALIZING.

That’s what helped me acclimatize to my role as pakhan. It helped to keep

work out of my home. Made things simpler. More focused.
And yet here I am, bringing my work home.
Because it means I’m just a call away if the kids need me. Emma can just
walk right in whenever she feels a little lonely.
Not that she has. Since we slept together two nights ago in what she likes to
call the beginning of my redemption tour, she hasn’t sought me out once.
Maybe she’s just testing me, checking to see if I’ll keep going to her.
If that’s all it takes to convince her I’m in this for the long haul, I’m willing
to make the first move for as long as it takes. Day after day, week after
week, year after, I’ll find her and hold her close and remind her that she’s
mine.
“Yo,” Kirill greets when he walks in smelling of cigar smoke. “Just wanted
to let you know: the team’s on Remmy’s tail. They should complete the job
today.”
I nod. “Tell me when they have a body.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Any news from the Bane board meeting?” I ask.
“Vadim was shocked that you weren’t there. In fact, he was shocked that
you’re working from home in the first place.” Kirill gives me a playful
smirk. “To be honest, so am I.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s just easier this way.”
“Easy access, you mean.”
I throw him a glare. “Did you get your hands on a sample of Sopernik?” I
ask, pivoting without the least bit of subtlety.
Kirill’s smile drops immediately. “That’s what I came here to talk to you
about.”
Fuck.
“Let me guess—it’s a match for Venera?”
He nods. “It’s a perfect match. Adrik definitely ripped you off.”
“I’m shocked,” I drawl sarcastically.
“That’s not all.”
I clench my jaw. “Go on.”
“He’s basically copying your rollout plan to a T, also. Sopernik is going to
be circulating in his club exclusively. The crowd is going to be invite-only
and there’s gonna be extra security casing the place throughout the night.”
“That little mudak…” I rake a hand through my hair. “What about the house
Sergey was found in? Do we have an ID on who owns it?”
“That’s the weird part. It definitely has an owner. The problem is that, at
this point, the owner seems to be untraceable.”
I frown. It’s odd for Kirill not to be able to chase down loose ends like that.
“Does it matter?” he asks, studying my face closely. “We already know that
Adrik is behind this. Who gives a damn which stooge he set up as a front
man?”
“Exactly. He’s been obvious about his involvement in this steal,” I point
out. “Which means he wants me to know it’s him. He wants the credit for
this. So why try to hide the fact that he owns that house?”
Kirill shrugs. “Who knows what that little shit has up his sleeve?”
I shake my head. “Something’s not right about this. There’s a missing piece
we’re overlooking. Why hide that bit of information? Unless…”
I drift off, caught in the half-formed puzzle in my head.
“Ruslan?”
I clear my throat. “Unless there’s someone else involved. Someone who
doesn’t want credit for any of this.”
Kirill doesn’t look overly concerned. “You’re the most powerful man in the
city. It makes sense that you would have enemies you’re not even aware of.
Maybe Adrik’s just aligned with one of them?”
“It’s possible,” I mutter. But instinct is telling me that this faceless second
enemy is no unknown entity.
“You did piss off Jessica Allens and her douchey father.”
“That’s possible, too.”
“I say fuck ‘em all.” Kirill crosses his legs. “I think we need to focus on
Adrik and this upcoming rollout of Sopernik. Perhaps even return fire with
fire?”
“For one, he’s going to be expecting that. You said it yourself: he’s planning
for increased security around the club. Also, I’m not about to murder
innocent civilians just to fuck up his launch.”
“Sometimes, casualties are inevitable.”
“Under most circumstances,” I muse, “I’d be inclined to agree. But in this
case, it’s neither necessary nor inevitable. The only lives I’m going to be
taking are the ones who are directly involved in this whole scheme.”
Kirill raises his eyebrows.
“What?” I demand impatiently. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing,” he mutters. “It’s just… you sounded like your father just then.”
A few years ago, a comment like that would’ve pissed me off. But now? I
can appreciate my father’s temperate nature. I can admire his penchant for
self-restraint and mercy. Even when all his advisers, including Vadim, were
pushing him to stoke fires, he usually stayed calm long enough to put them
out.
As a young man, I thought he was weak.
But perhaps what I mistook for weakness all this time was nothing less than
hard-earned wisdom.
“I’ll find another way to deal with Adrik. His days are numbered.”
Kirill nods with satisfaction. “I’ll be counting them down.”
The door opens and I notice Emma’s profile before she stops short, catching
sight of Kirill. She fidgets self-consciously and starts to retreat back out of
the office. “I’m sorry; I should have knocked. I’ll come back la—”
“It’s okay, Emma,” Kirill interrupts quickly. “I was just leaving.”
He tosses me a quick wink and waltzes for the door. Emma lingers there
tentatively, looking between the two of us.
I meet her eyes. “Come in, Emma.”
She hesitates for only a moment before she closes the door and walks into
my office. She sought me out this time. That’s a step in the right direction.
“I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
She picks at her lip. “For disturbing you.”
I shake my head. “You’re not.”
The vein on her forehead is throbbing gently. “I, um… I don’t have a reason
for being here. I just… well… I was lonely and I just thought… God—”
She cringes. “This was dumb. I shouldn’t have come.”
She’s turning for the door when I lunge out of my chair and catch her after
three long strides. “You’re not going anywhere, kiska.”
“You’re busy.”
“I’d rather be busy with you.”
Her cheeks flush with color. My God, she’s stunning. My cock is in full
agreement. I pull her to me and graze her lips against mine, sucking on their
sweetness until she’s breathless and melting in my arms.
“Ruslan…” She puts her hands on my chest and pushes gently, just enough
to make me stop pawing her. “I didn’t come here for this.”
I drop my hands immediately, which fucking kills me, but I do it anyway.
“Okay. We can do whatever else you want to do.”
She raises her eyebrows skeptically. “Even if it’s just… talking?”
“Especially if it’s just talking.”
“Or just… cuddling?”
“Especially if it’s just cuddling.”
Her eyebrows pull together. She actually looks a little… annoyed? Am I
reading that right? “Dammit,” she snaps. “You always do this.” Then she
launches herself at me, kissing me desperately, her hands clawing at the
front of my shirt.
Laughing, I lift her into my arms and carry her over to the sofa. I drop down
onto it, positioning her on my lap with my hands on her hips. She rips into
my shirt, tearing it off and exploring my abs with her fingertips.
Impatiently, she moves on to my zipper. My cock jumps out at her eagerly
and she gives me a coquettish little smile that makes the beast in me
adamant to stake its claim.
I rip her panties down her legs first. She sits on my cock and it slides inside
her, filling her up with one deep thrust. Her eyes roll back in her head.
“Fuck yeah.”
I slap her ass and away she goes, riding me furiously. I pull at the buttons of
her blouse until I can see her tits bounce in my face. I watch them,
mesmerized at their fullness, their pert enthusiasm.
Mine.
All fucking mine.
I pull a nipple into my mouth and suck on it while she rides me. Her hips
jerk back and forth as her body erupts with goosebumps. She cranes her
neck backwards and moans loudly like she doesn’t care who the fuck hears.
“Ahh… Ruslan…”
She comes with my name on her lips and if her orgasm didn’t do it, that
certainly does. I explode inside her, filling her to the brim. She jerks her
hips back and forth tiredly—once, twice—and then she collapses against
my chest.
It takes a while for her breathing to slow down. I just hold her until it does.
“I really didn’t come here for this,” she mumbles self-consciously, hiding
her face in my shoulder.
I chuckle. “I don’t care what you came for, just as long as you came.”
She smiles and plays with my hair. It’s curling at the back just a little. I’m
probably due for a haircut sometime soon.
Ring, ring, ring.
I glare at the unwelcome intrusion my phone presents. But when I notice
it’s Kirill, I grab it. “Yeah?”
“Just wanted to let you know it’s done. We have a body.”
I grin with violent satisfaction. “Good.”
When I hang up, Emma is staring at me curiously, but she doesn’t ask what
that was about. Probably because she assumes I wouldn’t tell her.
“That was Kirill,” I explain. “He wanted to let me know that any remaining
threat Remmy might’ve posed to you and the kids is gone now.”
She raises her eyebrows. “H-how?”
“For one, I bought the newspaper that Remmy worked for just so that I
could squash the story he wrote about us.”
Her jaw snaps open. “That must have cost you a fortune.”
I shrug. “Luckily, I have several of those to spare.”
“B-but… Remmy can always go to other newspapers and sell the story
there. Or print an anonymous thing, like a letter to the editor or whatever.
Or even just publish online—”
“He won’t be writing, printing, or publishing anything else.”
The vein in her forehead is jumping erratically now. “Y-you mean… do you
mean that he’s—”
I don’t pull any punches. “He’s dead, Emma.”
She pales. For a moment, I wonder if perhaps there’s such a thing as too
much honesty. After all, she is still not familiar with the inner workings of
my world. She might object on moral grounds even if she believes Remmy
deserved what he got.
Her face gets solemn and tight. “Why did you tell me that?”
“Because I want you to be my equal partner.” I hold her face between my
hands. “I don’t want to have to hide these things from you, Emma. If you
don’t want to know, then I won’t tell you. But if you do… then everything
is yours. The good, the bad, and the ugly. All of it.”
She entwines her fingers with mine and gives me a tentative glance. “Thank
you… for telling me all that.”
“I told you: I’m going to keep you and the kids safe. This is for the long
haul.”
Her forehead vein is back, twitching, a tiny little voice of doubt she can’t
quite shake off yet. But that’s okay. Trust takes time.
And I’m willing to give this as much time as it needs.
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 EMMA

“‘Emergency custody hearing’?” Isabel Costa’s face doesn’t change when I

echo her words back to her. “What on earth does that mean?”
I’m hoping that she doesn’t take my tone personally. I’m not shouting at
her; more like, I’m shouting around her.
She purses her lips. “It seems your parents have decided to push the hearing
forward after discovering that your brother-in-law has skipped town. They
want to sue for custody.”
I jump to my feet and shove the papers away from me. “I have custody of
those kids. Ben signed away his rights to me.”
Isabel adjusts her green-rimmed glasses and nods. “It may be that your
parents are unaware of that. Or maybe they just don’t care. Either way, we
will need to attend this hearing so that we can clear things up.”
I’m hearing footsteps down the hall, coming towards the living room. “Be
straight with me, Isabel. Do I stand a chance of losing custody of the kids?
Even with Ben’s signed consent?”
“It’s highly unlikely—”
My heart stops for a beat. “‘Highly unlikely’? That implies that there’s a
chance of a yes!”
“There’s no chance,” Ruslan snarls as he storms into the living room. “Not
a fucking chance in hell they’re taking those kids away from you.”
Isabel looks extremely uncomfortable. “Ruslan… I’m not sure giving
Emma guarantees is necessarily the best idea. We need to be realistic. The
fact is that Emma is young. She’s also struggled with providing for the
children in past years. If her parents can make the case that she’s an unfit
guardian, then—”
“Isabel.” Ruslan’s voice is clipped and blunt and leaves absolutely no room
for argument. “We are not losing custody of those kids. When’s the
hearing?”
She sighs and picks up the papers I want nothing to do with. “Three days
from now.”
Ruslan nods. “We’ll be ready.”
Honestly, I’m this close to bursting into tears. The only thing that stops me
is Ruslan. When he hears my terrified sniffle, he grabs both my hands and
forces me to face him. “Emma, look at me.”
I can’t bring myself to do it, though. I just shake my head and stare at the
floor as I do my damndest not to picture how it would feel to have the kids
ripped away from me. “I thought this was over.”
He squeezes my hands hard. “It will be soon. I didn’t expect your parents to
be quite so stubborn—but unfortunately for them, I’m the definition of the
fucking word. You have nothing to worry about. They’re not getting their
hands on those kids.”
I finally look up at him, willing myself to have the kind of confidence he
seems to have been born with. “But—”
“No buts,” he interrupts firmly. “We’re going to go to this hearing and
you’re going to show your parents exactly what you’re made of.”
My bottom lip trembles as he pulls me into the circle of his arms. It’s hard
to believe anything can go wrong when he’s holding me like this.
“I’m gonna be with you every step of the way, okay?” he murmurs, his
voice a rumble that reverberates through me.
I nod against his chest.
There’s nothing else I can do but trust him.

I’ve been trying to breathe for the past half an hour, but the oxygen seems
to be getting stuck somewhere north of my lungs. Air passes my lips, but
my body feels starved and desperate for more, more, more of it.
That probably has a little something to do with the fact that my parents are
sitting on the bench opposite me with their fancy ass lawyer at their side.
They both look ridiculous. Barrett in his tweed blazer and his oversized
Hublot. Mom in her silk blouse and mink stole.
“I think we missed the memo to wear our finest chinchilla furs,” Ruslan
whispers to me in a sarcastic aside.
I suppress a smile and glance at the well-dressed woman sitting next to my
mother. “Their lawyer is supposed to be one of the best.”
Ruslan snorts. “If she was one of the best, she’d be on my payroll.”
“How can you be so confident?”
“Because we have this in the bag.”
I wish his confidence was catching; I could really use some right now.
Judge Kennedy clears her throat and bangs on the gavel. “Today’s docket
concerns a custody dispute over the placement of three minor children—
Joshua, Reagan, and Caroline Ziegler. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, you’re
petitioning the court for custody of said minors to be taken from their
current guardian—your daughter, Miss Emma Carson—and transferred to
you. Do I have that information right?”
Beatrice gets to her feet. “Yes, your honor.”
The judge scrutinizes my mother through her long eyelashes. “There’s no
need to stand when you reply, Mrs. Carson.”
“I understand, your honor.” Of course, she stands when she says that, too,
so it’s anyone's guess what she understands.
The judge frowns and turns her attention down to the custody
documentation that Isabel handed her when we walked in.
“Hm. The problem is, the paternal father of the children has signed over his
rights to your daughter,” Judge Kennedy acknowledges.
Beatrice looks towards her lawyer. I can only imagine how much she cost.
The Dolce power suit she’s wearing screams, I make my living by fleecing
wealthy clients without a leg to stand on.
With a sigh, the lawyer gets to her feet, adjusting her jacket along the way.
“Your honor, if I may, my clients were only recently made aware of the
transfer of parental rights—”
“That’s not really the court’s problem now, is it, Ms. Danes?”
Ms. Danes clears her throat. “My clients are adamant that the decision made
by their son-in-law was illegitimate. In fact, they feel that coercion was
involved in his decision.”
Okay, not totally off the mark there…
I glance at Ruslan, who couldn’t be more relaxed. If you blurred out the
background, you’d think he was on a beach somewhere, drinking piña
coladas and soaking up tropical sun. Not standing in this bleak courtroom
with the fate of my sister’s children on the line.
“Can they prove it?”
“Not as such, necessarily, no.” Ms. Danes clears her throat. “In addition,
however, my clients feel that Ms. Carson is ill-equipped to take care of all
three children. She lacks the resources and the maturity to fully meet all
their needs.”
My jaw flops open. Neither of my parents will look at me, but I can feel
their attention aimed in my direction. I want to knock their smug heads
together.
Judge Kennedy purses her lips. “And yet Ms. Carson is the one who has
been meeting their needs consistently for the past three years.”
“Thank you!” Every single pair of eyes in the courtroom turns to me. I
blush scarlet. “Sorry,” I murmur. “That was supposed to be an inside
thought.”
The judge doesn’t crack a smile but she doesn’t admonish me, either. Her
gaze veers back to my parents and their lawyer. “It’s not in the best interests
of those children to be removed from a familiar environment and placed in
your care, even if you are their grandparents.”
Beatrice jerks up to her feet again. “They’re not even in school! She pulled
them out months ago. I checked with their principal!” Her lawyer grabs her
arm and whispers something in her ear but Beatrice just shakes her off. “I
want what’s best for my grandchildren and I’m terrified that my wayward,
irresponsible daughter will do more damage of an unfixable variety if
they’re left with her in the long run.”
The judge twists her dark gaze back to me. “Ms. Carson, am I to understand
that you pulled those children out of their school without finding an
alternate option for them?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Isabel gets to her feet before I can fumble for some half-assed explanation.
“Of course not, your honor. My client has indeed secured an alternate
option for the children.”
Ruslan pulls out a sheaf of papers and hands them to Isabel, who walks
them over to the judge. I sidle a little closer to Ruslan. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve enrolled the kids at Horace Mann.”
My skin tingles. Everyone in the city has heard of Horace Mann. It’s where
pop stars and presidents send their kids. The tuition for one semester alone
is over thirty thousand dollars. But, if I’m being honest, I’m less annoyed
about that and more annoyed about the fact that this is the first I’m hearing
of any of this.
He’s gonna get an earful about this later.
“Well… everything seems to be in order,” Judge Kennedy says, turning
over the papers to read through everything. “It seems your daughter hasn’t
neglected the children’s education at all, Mrs. Carson.”
My mother is gawking at Ruslan and I now with a disbelieving expression.
“B-but… she can only enroll them there because of him.”
Judge Kennedy sighs and turns to Ruslan. “And who are you, Mr…?”
“Oryolov, your honor. Ruslan Oryolov.” He’s the only one who doesn’t look
on edge right now.
“And who are you to these children?”
“I’m Ms. Carson’s partner.” He crosses his hands in front of his belt. “And
I’m fully committed to helping her raise those three children. I already think
of them as my own.”
My jaw flops open again, but for a very different reason this time. Okay, so
it’s a little harder to be pissed at him about the whole school enrollment
thing. Sue me.
The judge fixes him with her eagle eyed gaze. “Taking on three children is
no easy feat, Mr. Oryolov.”
Ruslan doesn’t hesitate. “I’m well aware, your honor. It’s a great
responsibility, but it’s also a rewarding one. And I’m more than up for the
challenge.”
Judge Kennedy nods. “Then there’s nothing further to discuss. Mr. and Mrs.
Carson, your petition for custody has been denied. Legal and physical
custody of the minor children—Joshua, Reagan, and Caroline Ziegler—will
remain with their aunt.”
She bangs the gavel—and just like that, I can breathe again.

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OceanofPDF.com
 EMMA

“Is this real?”

Isabel gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s real. Those papers that Ben signed
are ironclad. I made sure of it.”
Ruslan has his hand on the small of my back but his eyes are trained on the
other side of the courtroom where my parents are standing with their
lawyer. It looks like there’s one hell of a discussion going. All furtive
whispers and angry half-glances in our direction.
My first instinct is relief. Then a petty sense of satisfaction. I won. I fucking
won. I can’t be that bad of a guardian if a judge has decided that it’s in the
children’s best interests to stay with me.
Take that, Mom and Dad.
Of course, on the heels of that less-than-gracious thought is guilt. They are
still my parents and they’re the only family I have left.
“Emma.” My gaze veers to Ruslan, who’s looking at me with a warning in
his eyes. “There’s no point.”
I’m not sure how to take that. One, because how did he know what I was
thinking? And two: surely there’s something there that can be salvaged?
Not everything can be so easily written-off, right?
“They’re still my parents.”
“Parents or not, they treat you like shit,” Ruslan reminds me in a cold voice.
“And you deserve better than that.”
I’ve made up my mind on one thing, at least: I’m just gonna let the whole
he-enrolled-the-kids-in-a-fancy-schmancy-school-without-consulting-me-
first thing go. The man’s more than made up for it today by helping me
keep custody of the kids. For being here with me through it all.
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
I thank Isabel at the exit of the courthouse, but I’ve got one eye on my
parents who are now standing at the bottom of the stairs. Leaving Ruslan
with Isabel for a moment, I walk down the steps towards them.
Mom spots me first. Her jaw clenches fiercely and she nudges my father so
hard that he nearly tumbles over. “Emma,” Beatrice greets in a frigid voice
that I remember well from my adolescent years. Sienna used to do an
unbelievable impression of it. “Come over to gloat, have you?”
For God’s sake, why do they have to make everything so hard?
“Of course not,” I reply as levelly as I can. “I just came to say that I’m sorry
that things ended this way. I’m sorry they got to this point at all.”
My father narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t think we don’t know exactly why
the judge sided with you.”
I breathe. In and out, in and out. Don’t get into a whole thing with them.
Don’t stoop to their level. “Listen, I’m not here to discuss the outcome. I’m
just here to say that, if you ever want to see the kids, you’re welcome to.
You are their grandparents and they’ve lost enough family members as it
is.”
Beatrice’s eyes bug out and the vein in her forehead pops. I’m afraid that’s a
feature that I inherited. Always hated that vein.
“Oh, so you’re here to offer us pity visits? Supervised access to our own
grandchildren?”
I sigh. “If you two have an agenda where those kids are concerned, then I
oppose it. But if you just want to see them, spend some quality time with
them… that I can get behind.”
“We don’t need any favors from you,” Barrett snarls at me.
“In fact, we don’t need anything at all from you,” Beatrice adds. “Because
this is not over, Emma. We’re going to get a new lawyer and we’re going to
drag you into court as many times as it takes to get custody of those three
child—”
“I’d stick to achievable goals.”
I whirl around to find Ruslan standing on the step behind me. His eyes are
trained on my parents and his jaw is set in that firm square that I’ve learned
from experience means business.
“Emma is not losing those children,” he continues as he advances toward us
and takes up a position at my side. “Not now. Not ever. I will personally see
to it that any petition you make to any court in this city is thrown out before
it even reaches a judge. Those children are not a victory for you to claim.”
Barrett tries to interrupt but Ruslan just talks over him.
“They need security, love, and safety—and they have that with Emma. She
has looked after them as though they’re her own for the past three and a half
years. If you cared at all for your grandchildren, you’d see that they’re
better off with her.” His voice crackles dangerously. “She is an amazing
fucking mother and an amazing fucking person and she doesn’t deserve to
be treated this way. So if I ever see or hear you utter another bad word to
her again, I will make it my personal mission to turn your lives into a living
hell.” He looks right at Beatrice. “I understand that you’re a member of
several society committees and charities in the city. I will see that you are
removed from each and every one.” Then he turns to Barrett. “And as for
you, I will not only see to it that you’re kicked out of all your clubs, I will
make sure no businessman worth his salt entertains a deal with your firm
ever again. You’ll be paupers. I swear it. You want to test me? Go right
ahead. It’s your fucking funeral.”
I watch in amazement as both my parents are rendered speechless. But I
know that Ruslan’s threat will work. No way are my parents going to risk
their position in the Upper East Side’s social scene just to take custody of
the kids they don’t even want in the first place.
It would defeat the whole purpose.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear. I don’t think there’s anything else left to be
said.” He turns to me. “Emma, shall we?”
I raise my eyebrows as my gaze veers to my parents. There are a hundred
things that I want to say to them. Why couldn’t you both just be normal?
Why weren’t we enough for you? Didn’t losing Sienna teach you anything?
Didn’t it hurt?
But I’m starting to realize that sometimes the healthiest thing you can do
with certain people is simply to walk away.
I slip my hand into Ruslan’s. “Let’s go home.”
We head off in the direction of his Rolls Royce and I take a deep, staggering
breath that feels like it releases a lifetime of pent-up frustration and
resentment.
I buckle myself into the passenger’s seat and glance at Ruslan as he turns on
the engine. “Thank you,” I say softly. “For having my back.”
He answers by palming the back of my neck, hooking me toward him, and
pressing his lips hard against mine. The kiss hits like it’s the first time
we’ve ever done it. That sense of build-up, of butterflies, of electricity
dancing on your skin. When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless and
flushed.
“You’re my woman now, Emma. And no one talks to my woman like that.”
My heart flutters as he places one hand on the steering wheel and the other
hand on my thigh. The possessiveness in his touch is as exciting as it is
terrifying.
Mostly because it forces me to face what I’m feeling. I’m well past the
point of infatuation and lust. This is not a crush that will pass. This is not a
friendship that involves sex.
As far as my feelings are concerned, this is the real freaking deal. So, for
the first time, I let myself think the thought I’ve kept locked away in a dark
corner of my heart for months upon months.
I am completely, madly, desperately in love with Ruslan Oryolov and
there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

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OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

I don’t know what witchcraft she employed, but Emma has somehow
managed to convince me that a family boat day is the only appropriate way
to celebrate our newfound freedom.
No Ben.
No Remmy.
No Beatrice and Barrett.
It’ll be fun, she said. Quality time with the kids, she said. Open ocean, fresh
air—it’s the break we need, she said.
She even suggested I invite Fyodor and Vadim and somehow, I’d agreed to
that too.
Like I said—witchcraft.
Either that or the fact that she was pushing her swollen breasts in my face at
the time. Come to think of it, that might also have been a major contributing
factor. Then again, every time I look at her body, I can forgive myself for
the lapse. Those aren’t breasts a man can easily say no to.
We end up on my private yacht far enough into the ocean that we can’t see
land from any side. Emma comes up next to me on the bow and leans
against the stanchion. She’s wearing a white cotton dress and when the
wind whistles through, it pulls the fabric taut against her growing belly. My
cock stirs at the sight of her, curved and beautiful, hair flapping in the
breeze.
“Most people don’t get on hundred-foot yachts for a ‘family boat day,’” she
accuses with a shy little smile and laugh.
I smirk. “Only the best for my family.”
Her smile softens. “You don’t have to go overboard, you know?
Figuratively speaking. The kids and I would have been happy making
sandcastles on the beach.”
“And mix with the rabble?” I scoff. “No way. You need to be out here,
where only I can see you looking this fucking good.”
She giggles, her gaze drifting slowly towards the main cabin where the
children have disappeared to change into their swimsuits. Fyodor and
Vadim are lounging on the starboard side, nursing cocktails in near-identical
linen suits.
“I like your father,” she murmurs.
I cup the back of her elbow and stroke the skin there softly. “He likes you.”
“How can you tell?”
“He’s smiled more today than he has in the last five years. He lost his smile
when he lost my mother and brother. It’s good to see it again.”
Those compassionate eyes of hers fill up with tears. “I can’t imagine what
that must have been like for him.” She pauses for a second and sighs.
“Actually, I can. There was a time after Sienna’s death that I thought I’d
never smile again, either.”
I nod. “Losing anyone you care about is hard. Losing a sibling is harder.
You’re supposed to grow old with them, you know?”
She wipes away a tear and places her fingertips on my wrist. “I know.”
“Leonid was supposed to be pakhan. But there was no time to mourn him. I
was forced to pick myself up and carry on.”
“That’s what happened to me, too. I had to be there for the kids. I didn’t
have the luxury of falling apart.”
It’s weird to think I have so much in common with Emma. When she first
walked into my office almost two years ago, she couldn’t have seemed
more different than me, more alien.
And now…
Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.
It’s a sobering thought. One that makes me reflect on my father’s mental
catatonia. Would I have reacted any different if I were to lose Emma or one
of those kids? Could I really afford to have judged him when I had no
goddamn clue what he had gone through?
Emma’s hand is still on my wrist, rubbing it in slow, tender circles. “What
was your brother like?”
“What was he like?” I repeat, thinking back as his face flashes before my
mind’s eye. “He was everything to me when I was a boy. Confident, fierce,
charismatic. Protective as hell.”
She smiles. “Sounds like someone I know.”
I laugh as the salty spray over the bow kisses her cheeks. “I wasn’t as
confident when I was younger. I certainly wasn’t charismatic. And I never
had a reason to be protective.”
“I don’t believe you. But even if I did, I’d say it sounds like you became the
person you admired most. That’s beautiful, you know. He’s still alive in
you. You’re a memorial to him.”
That catches me by surprise. I look down at her and think for the millionth
time how beautiful she is to me. She’s pure from the roots of her soul to the
surface of her sun-kissed skin. I never want to leave this boat, this moment.
Her gazing up at me like I made the world for her with my own two
hands… It’s everything I never knew I needed.
“Aunt Emma! Ruslan!” The kids launch themselves out of the cabin in their
swimsuits, excitement pouring off their wide, toothy smiles. Even Josh is
grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s get in the water! Come on. Come on. Come
on!”
I strip off my shirt and gesture for Fyodor and Vadim to join us. The ship
sways gently in the deep ocean current, though the anchor keeps us held in
position.
“I want to jump in,” Caro insists when I start to unspool the rope ladder to
toss it over the side.
Reagan nods emphatically. “Me, too!”
I pause and regard them. Josh already looks resigned to doing things the
safe way, the proper way. Which is why it makes me laugh so much to
scowl as seriously as I can, right up to the point that they’re sure I’m going
to insist on following the protocols…
Then turn and haul ass toward the bow.
“You’ll have to beat me to it then!” I call over my shoulder. I catch just a
glimpse of their shocked, delighted smiles before I launch myself over the
edge.
The ocean beckons as I fall, blue and beautiful. Their laughter follows me
as I knife down and through the surface. I plummet down, then reverse
course and float up to the top. Six smiling faces look down at me. Emma,
the kids, my father, my uncle, all slightly confused to see me so carefree.
I don’t blame them; I’m a little confused myself.
But the sun is shining and the water is clear and life has never seemed more
perfect.
My grin spreads. “Who’s next?”
Josh jumps in first with a crackling yowl, then Caroline, then Reagan.
Vadim begs off a swim, opting for another cocktail on the deck, but Fyodor
surprises me by quickly changing into a bathing suit and jumping in after
the kids. When was the last time I’d seen him this enthusiastic? This
participatory?
“Your turn,” I say to Emma once we’re all bobbing happily in the current.
She’s leaning far over the stanchion looking down at us.
She gives me an apologetic smile. “Oh, that’s okay. I think I’m gonna sit
this one out.”
I frown. Since when has Emma turned down a chance to swim? The woman
is always by the pool in highly distracting swimsuits and bikinis.
“How can you say no to this?” I demand, spreading my arms wide as all of
us tread in place. “Just take that dress off and jump in.”
She shakes her head. It’s hard to say from down here with the glare of the
sun in my eyes, but I think I see the shadowy furrow of her forehead vein
working overtime.
“I think I’m just gonna go inside and rest for a bit.” She disappears before I
can ask any further questions.
So much for perfect. Something’s definitely off.
I spend another fifteen minutes with the kids. Then, when Kirill jumps in
with them after finishing up some work below deck, I climb up the rope
ladder and make my way towards the cabin. I pass Vadim on the outer deck,
sipping his cocktail and talking to someone on the phone. Judging by the
look on his face, it’s not a pleasant conversation.
I find Emma in her cabin. She’s sitting on the bed in her flowy dress, the slit
putting her creamy thigh on full display.
“Ruslan!” she says in surprise, sitting up a little straighter when I walk in.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to try and figure out why you aren’t out there.”
She blushes and tries to avoid my eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“I suggest you tell me now before I carry you back outside and rip that
dress right off you myself.”
Her eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I’ll be gentle when I throw you overboard.”
She throws me a little scowl and gets off the bed in a huff. Unfortunately,
her thigh disappears underneath her skirt.
Easily remedied.
“I’m embarrassed, okay?” She stands there with her arms wrapped around
her body. “I know it’s silly and superficial but I’m embarrassed.”
“What the hell are you embarrassed about?”
Now, she’s the one who looks confused. She gestures to her body. “About
this.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She groans. “I just don’t like the way I look in my bikini anymore. I put it
on underneath this dress and… let’s just say it’s not exactly flattering. So
I’m just feeling a little insecure and I’d rather not prance around in a bikini
with my stomach on display.”
A scowl twists my lips. I grab her arm and drag her towards the full-length
mirror in the corner of the room. Then I rip apart the tie-up that’s holding
her dress together.
“Ruslan!” she yelps.
But it’s too late. I’ve already got the damn thing off her. She tries to cover
herself up with her arms, but I peel them off and pin them down to her
sides. She’s wearing a black string bikini that highlights her breasts and puts
her tiny little bump on display. Every curve is there to touch, to taste.
“See?” she moans. “I look like a whale.”
This woman…
“Fucking hell, Emma. Are we looking at the same damn mirror? Look at
yourself. You’re gorgeous.”
Her eyes actually go wide with disbelief, then suspicion. Both piss me off.
Does she really think I would lie to her about this?
“What exactly do you find so offensive?” I ask, standing right behind her.
“Is it here?” I trail my fingers over the swell of her arms. “Here?” I cup
each breast tenderly. “Here? Or here? Or here?” In turn, I press a kiss to
each shoulder, palm each hip, and grind myself against her ass.
She shudders every time I touch her but I can see that my words are getting
through to her. Even if she’s not convinced by her own beauty, she’s
convinced that I’m convinced of it.
“You are so goddamn beautiful,” I growl, nipping at her earlobe.. “If you
need physical proof, just feel that.”
I grab her around the waist and pull her tight against me so that she can feel
my erection pushing between her ass cheeks. She sighs, her skin turning
pink with desire. “Ruslan…”
I keep her in front of the mirror and make her watch as I slip my hand into
her bikini bottoms. She gasps when my fingers make contact with the warm
wetness of her pussy.
“How could you think you’re anything less than perfect?” I growl in her
ear. “Look how you glow with my child growing inside you. Look how
beautiful you are, full of the life we made together.”
I kiss her neck as she moans, her eyes fluttering open, then closed, then
open again. “R-Ruslan…”
I circle her clit with my finger until she’s a quivering mess. Then I go deep,
pushing my fingers knuckle-deep inside her until her moans turn to muffled
screams.
I don’t even care that Vadim can probably hear us above deck. All I want
right now is to make her see just how special she is to me; just how
beautiful.
Her hand twists back and clings to my neck. She pulls my face towards hers
and we share a messy, desperate kiss. When we break for air, her nipples are
so hard they’re in danger of ripping right through the fabric of her bikini
top. Unable to resist, I push my hand underneath one of the cups and
squeeze.
How can she, even for a second, entertain the thought that she’s not
desirable or beautiful? The woman would drive me insane even if she were
wrapped head to toe in layer after layer. I grind into her from behind as I
wring the orgasm from her sweet little cunt.
“See?” I hiss in her ear. “Do you see how totally mesmerizing you are?
Look at yourself.”
“Ruslan…”
“Look at yourself.”
I twist her face until she’s forced to meet her reflection in the mirror. Her
cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, and there are goosebumps all over her
skin.
“See?” I slide my tongue down along her neck. “Fucking perfect.”
Then I drive home my point by bearing down on her clit with my finger.
She gasps, her body jerking into mine as she comes violently all over my
hand. Then I toss her towards the bed, bend her on all fours, and drive
myself into her.
I fuck her hard and fast. It takes only a handful of thrusts before I pull out
just so that I can finish all over her skin, to mark her as mine, as beautiful,
as fucking irreplaceable.
We really should do family boat days more often.

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 EMMA

“Do you have a children’s menu?”

I have to bite my knuckle so I don’t laugh out loud. We’re in one of the
fanciest restaurants in New York City. The only reason the kids were even
allowed in at the door is because Ruslan tipped the maître d’ five hundred
dollars when we got here.
The waiter seems to think it’s as crazy of a question as I do. He blinks
slowly. “I’m afraid not, sir.”
Fyodor doesn’t seem in the least bit put-off. “Then you’ll cook whatever the
kids want to eat, yes?”
Ruslan’s father has always seemed so amiable and mild-mannered to me.
And yet, when he poses that question-that’s-not-really-a-question at the
waiter, he does it with a subtle air of menace that threatens all sorts of
retribution if declined.
That’s my reading of it, anyway. The server seems to agree. He nods like a
bobblehead. “O-of course, sir. What would the, um… children like?”
Fyodor turns to Reagan and Caroline first, who are both sitting on his right
looking extremely pleased to be sitting at the grownups’ table in a very
grown-up restaurant.
“I want pizza,” Reagan declares.
“I want mac and cheese,” Caroline decides.
Josh glances at me and my heart melts just a little. “Go ahead, sweetheart.
Choose whatever you want.”
“A cheeseburger,” he says quietly. “With fries.”
“Excellent choices!” Fyodor proclaims, clapping his hands together. He
passes the menus to the pale-faced waiter and dismisses him with a click of
his tongue.
I glance towards Ruslan, who’s sitting next to me doing his best not to smile
too wide.
Caroline waves at me from across the table. “Auntie Em, can we go see the
fish tank?”
“Fish tank” is a bit of a misnomer for the aquarium in the middle of the
restaurant big enough to house a pod of dolphins, but I let it slide. “Go
ahead. Just don’t be too loud. And don’t get in anyone’s way—” The kids
are already out of their seats. “—and don’t break anything!”
Fyodor chuckles and pats me on the back of my hand. “They’re children. If
they break anything, I’ll pay for it.”
“I appreciate that, but you really don’t have to do that. Or any of this, in
fact,” I say, gesturing to the opulence surrounding us. The sound of
champagne being uncorked a few tables over is the perfect complement to
my where-the-hell–even-are-we sweep of the hands.
Fyodor just waves away my words. “I’ve waited a long time to be a
grandfather. I was starting to think I would never get a chance to see one.
And now, I have three—no, four grandbabies. And I couldn’t be happier.”
“Hooo boy,” I breathe. “Keep this up and I’m gonna be sobbing all over the
table.”
He just pats my hand again. “Sob if you need to. I’ll replace the tablecloth,
too.”
I snort and everyone joins in the laughter. Everyone except Vadim, who
gives me a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
I’ve been trying to make my mind up about Ruslan’s uncle for the whole of
today. We chatted a little on the yacht, shared a drink, swapped a couple of
stories, even laughed once or twice. There were moments when I thought I
could like him and then there were moments—like this one—when he made
me feel like I was being watched.
Maybe it’s just the contrast between the brothers. Fyodor makes me feel
like I’m already part of the family. Vadim makes me feel like I’m being
interviewed for the role… and he’s not so sure I’m gonna make the cut.
“That reminds me,” Fyodor says, sticking his hand into his jacket pocket. “I
have something for you.”
My palms start to sweat. “For me?” I ask, voice rising to a pipsqueak. I
glance nervously at Ruslan. What is this? I mouth to him.
He just shrugs. Okay, so he didn’t know about the gift his father was going
to give me at the fanciest restaurant known to man?
Oh my God—it’s in a massive Tiffany box.
Oh my God—is he giving me jewelry?
Should I even accept?
Before I’m done with my mental freakout, Fyodor pops the silver clasp and
pulls the lid open. Inside, sitting on a plush black cushion, is the most
beautiful diamond necklace I’ve ever laid eyes on. A trio of huge teardrop
diamonds hanging from the chain, glistening like fresh frost.
“Whoa…” I whisper before my eyes rise to Fyodor’s. “I… I don’t know
what to say.”
He smiles. “It belonged to my wife.”
I feel like my head is about to explode. When I glance over at Ruslan, he
looks as taken aback as I feel. His eyes are wide and fastened on the
necklace as though he’s seeing his mother again.
“It used to have one less diamond, though,” Ruslan adds softly.
Fyodor nods. “The necklace was a gift to my wife when she gave birth to
my eldest son, Leonid. When Ruslan was born, I added another diamond.
The new diamond, this third one here, is for the new life you’re growing
inside you right now.”
“Fyodor…” I still can’t quite find the words. Apart from being an
extraordinarily expensive gift, it’s also an amazingly sentimental one. “This
is too generous.”
“You’ve made a man out of my son,” Fyodor says firmly. “It’s the least I
can do.”
Vadim clears his throat. “Your son was already a man, brother,” he says as
he picks up his champagne flute. “He has been a fucking pakhan since he
was twenty-one years old.”
Do I detect a smidgeon of resentment there?
No. I’m just reading into things too much.
“Being a pahkan, being wealthy and powerful and influential—it doesn’t
make a man,” Fyodor retorts. “None of those things can really build a true
legacy. The only real thing you leave behind is your progeny.”
Vadim’s mouth turns down at the corners. I catch the hint of a scowl before
he turns it into an unconvincing smile. “I forget what a soft heart you have,
brother.” Then he hides his face behind his glass.
Awkward.
I try to gloss over it by focusing on Ruslan’s father. “Fyodor, this means so
much to me. But it’s too much. And it belonged to your wife. Don’t you
want to keep it?”
“What I want is to see it worn, my dear. It was meant to be displayed on the
neck of a beautiful woman. And if it can’t be worn by my beloved wife,
God rest her soul, then I’d rather see it on my son’s woman. It would make
me so happy. May I put it on you?”
The man looks like he has tears in his eyes. How can I say no?
It just feels so foreign. It feels like I’m slipping on someone else’s skin,
entering a world that I’ve only ever seen from the outside.
And yet, as cold as those diamonds are, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside
when Fyodor fixes the clasp behind my neck and pulls his hands back to
admire the view. His eyes shine with unshed tears.
“It suits you, my dear.”
I touch my neck gingerly and look around the table. Ruslan is smiling
tenderly at me. Fyodor wipes away a stray tear. And Vadim… well, Vadim
is busy ogling a young woman in a tight red dress making her way to her
table.
I lean in a little closer to the old man. “Thank you, Fyodor,” I whisper to
him. “Truly.” I touch the necklace, marveling at its solid weight. “This
means so much to me.”
He smiles fondly. “Alina would have loved you. I’m sure of it.”
We spend the rest of the night eating and laughing. Fyodor is engaged,
attentive, joyful. Ruslan looks more animated than I’ve ever seen him.
Only Vadim seems not to be swept up in the spirit.

That night, when the kids are asleep and it’s just Ruslan and me in bed
together, I cuddle up against his chest and try to find a diplomatic way of
asking him about Vadim.
“Your father is lovely.”
“I was reminded of that today. It’s been a while since I saw him so alive.”
“Your uncle, though… he’s different.” I frown, wondering how to say it
without offending Ruslan. I decide to turn it back on me. “I don’t think he
likes me very much.”
Ruslan glances down at me. “He’d be a fool not to.”
“I’m not saying he has to like me. I don’t need to be liked.” That’s so not
true, but I’m trying to be chill about this. “I was just curious.”
Ruslan kisses the top of my head. “Vadim likes you fine. He’s just a tough
character to get to know. Give him a little time.”
I glance up into those confident amber eyes and calm settles over me. “You
care about him, don’t you?”
“He’s my uncle,” he says simply, as though that settles it.
It settles it for me, too. Vadim is important to Ruslan. Therefore, I’ll try
harder with him. Wear him down until he decides I’m not so bad after all.
Because after today, I know one thing for sure: I want to be a part of this
family.
For the child in my belly. For the children I inherited. For the family I’d lost
along the way.
And for myself, too.
For a long time, I didn’t see my future very clearly. But now, I do.
And it all revolves around him.

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 EMMA

“Are you guys ready to start school next month?”

The pancakes have just hit the table, but not even the scent of butter and
maple syrup can keep my stomach from twisting when Ruslan speaks up. I
shoot him a glare, although he misses it because he’s looking at the three
children sitting opposite us.
Reagan looks unsure. “Will my friends be there?”
Josh puts a reassuring hand on his sister’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be great,
Rae. A new start. A big adventure.”
She cringes. “That’s what Aunt Em said before she took us to that scary
place.”
I grimace. I’m never gonna live down that cockroach-infested motel. But
before I can assure her that she’ll never have to endure a place like that
again, Ruslan beats me to the punch.
“So you don’t want to see the huge playground at your new school?”
Her eyes go round. “They’ve got a playground?”
“The biggest playground you’ve ever seen.”
He hasn’t even glanced my way. Nor has he so much as asked for my
opinion. A part of me was still hoping that Horace Mann had just been an
insurance policy to secure me custody of the kids. Because there’s no way
he would make such an important decision without consulting me, right?
Wrong, as it turns out.
Ruslan’s gaze veers to Josh and Caroline. “There’s more, too. Basketball
courts. A ballet studio.”
Say something, Emma! I yell at myself. The more he talks, the more he’s
going to convince them.
But I can’t think of anything to say right now that isn’t just some variation
of, What the actual hell, man? We were supposed to be a team!
Josh’s eyes are sparkling with excitement. “Can we go see it?”
Ruslan nods. “I have a tour scheduled next week. We can’t go sooner
because the school has a very strict security protocol. Only scheduled visits
are allowed.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why on earth would a private school require those
kinds of precautions?”
“Because only the most important people go there.”
Josh looks as thoroughly confused as I am. “But we’re not important.”
Ruslan puts his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “All three of you are important to
me.”
Dammit.
It’s so hard to be pissed at the man when he says shit like that with those
sincere amber eyes and those sexy lips. Hell, it’s hard to remember why
you’re pissed at him in the first place.
But I’m determined not to let him bulldoze over me. If I start playing the
doormat now, that shoots the whole “equal partner” concept to hell and I
don’t want to set a bad precedent. I have to make sure my voice is heard.
Just not in front of the kids. Because they need peace and stability. Seeing
your parents fight—well, whatever you’d call us, at least—is the exact
opposite of that.
“I’m done with my pancakes!” Caroline declares. “Can I go play in the
garden now?”
Reagan immediately starts chiming in, “Me, too. Me, too!”
The little one hasn’t finished her breakfast but I’m willing to overlook that
because I need to prepare my soapbox. “Go on. Scram, you rascals.”
Once the kids have left the table, Josh trailing along after them, I turn to
Ruslan, face screwed up in determination. “Can I see you in your office?”
One corner of his mouth twists up in amusement. Whether that has to do
with my scowl or my words, I have no idea.
“Of course, kiska. Lead the way.”
Be strong, Emma, I tell myself. Don’t let all that charm distract you from
your goal.
His hand finds the small of my back as we walk to his office. I grit my
teeth.
Wait—what was my goal again?
The moment the door closes, I peel away from his touch and take up a
stance against his desk. “I asked you here for a reason.” I cringe internally
as soon as the words leave my lips. How does Ruslan say shit like that
without sounding corny? When I do it, it’s like I’m cosplaying as Elle
Woods from Legally Blonde.
“Another quickie on my desk?” Ruslan suggests, sauntering towards me
with his eyes scanning my body.
Heat spreads through me and convulses between my legs. Focus.
“No!” It comes out a lot stronger than I’d intended. Mostly because I’m
dangerously close to losing the plot altogether. “No. I want to talk about
something serious, Ruslan. Sex is off the table.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “On the couch then?”
“You’re not listening.”
“You’re not getting to the point.”
“You’re being an ass!” I explode. “How’s that for getting to the point?”
He folds his hands in front of his waist and does me the minor courtesy of
making a half-hearted attempt to tuck away the smirk. “How have I
offended you?”
I exhale carefully. “I understand that you want to protect them. I know you
love them. But those are my kids, too, and I should have been consulted
before you decided to tell them—not to mention a judge—that you had
enrolled them in a private school that I happen to hate.”
Any traces of his smile vanish completely. “You hate a school?”
I nod. “Sienna and I spent two semesters at Horace Mann before she pried
us out of that hellhole.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“Probably because I’ve repressed most of my memories. The kids were
cruel.” Another almost imperceptible flinch passes over his face. “We had
to walk a certain way, talk a certain way. The teachers had clear favorites
and, surprise-surprise, it was always whoever’s parents donated the most to
the school. There were No Tolerance for Bullying posters on damn near
every well, but guess which kinds of bullying they let slide? The kind that
only leaves invisible scars.” I’m talking fast but now that I’m on a roll, I
don’t want to stop. “Sienna pulled the fire alarm one day when she saw
some of the other kids picking on me. She was suspended for a week and
the dean told her that the only way she could come back to school was to
make a public apology to the staff and the entire student body at the next
assembly. She got up there in front of the whole school and told them all to
go fuck themselves.”
He smiles and I can’t help smiling myself. At the time, I was mortified.
Now… less so.
“She was expelled?”
I nod. “Of course. Before she even finished the sentence. My parents were
so embarrassed, they pulled me out, too. That was my experience at Horace
Mann. Needless to say, I have no desire for Josh, Caroline, and Reagan to
be subjected to the same shit that Sienna and I had to go through.”
As usual, his expression is indecipherable. Is he getting ready to tell me to
fuck off? Or is that sympathy I see? Who the hell knows? Those amber eyes
are an enigma.
“I should have discussed this with you first,” he says at last. The relief is
caught in my throat, though, because I can sense that he’s not done. “But
Horace Mann is the safest place in this city. That is why I chose it. To keep
them safe.”
I frown. “Don’t do that. Don’t make out like their safety isn’t important to
me, too.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“No, but it’s what you’re implying. Surely there are other schools with great
security.” His lips purse up but I take a step forward before he can speak. “I
get that you’re used to being the boss, Ruslan. But when it comes to this
family, you can’t make decisions unanimously anymore.”
His eyebrows pull together. “I’m responsible for the safety of this family.”
“Doesn’t mean you get to rule with an iron fist. I get to be part of the
decision.”
“I know what’s best.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t have enrolled them at Horace Mann.”
We’re almost nose to nose now. I’m feeling anger and frustration and all
sorts of self-righteous indignation. But I’m also feeling the kind of heat that
makes a girl all too aware of her body.
I shudder and suppress it. “I will not let you turn me into my mother,
Ruslan Oryolov. She used to have a mind of her own before my father
convinced her that being an Upper East Side snob was the only life worth
living.”
“You think I’m going to turn you into a snob?”
“I think you’re trying—unintentionally or intentionally, not sure yet—to
turn me into a compliant doormat who does what you say at the drop of a
hat.”
He pauses, inscrutable as ever. “Okay.”
I blink a couple of times. “Okay?”
He swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. With it, he steps back,
getting out of my face. He might as well be waving around a white flag.
“You’re right. I’ve been the boss for a very long time. I’m not used to
discussing anything with anyone. Frankly, it didn’t even cross my mind. I’ll
be better.”
I blink some more. It’s just not computing. He’s… apologizing? Promising
to be better? Changing—for me?
Somebody pinch me—I must be dreaming.
But then the grandfather clock on the wall chimes out the top of the hour
and the dream doesn’t end. So I do the only reasonable thing to do in this
situation: I launch myself into his arms, grab his face, and pull it to mine so
I can give him one hell of a kiss.
When I’m done kissing him—for now, at least—I pull back long enough to
look into his eyes. “Thank you.”
“There’s gonna be a learning curve,” he warns.
Smiling, I nod. “I can handle that.”
“Good. Then let me handle you.”
Growling, he drops his lips to my neck and I’m suddenly aware of how hard
he is. He pushes me back and I fall with a gasp against the edge of his desk.
He sets my ass on the surface and spreads my legs fiercely. His eyes are
glazed over like he’s not sure if he’s dreaming, either.
But when he pushes my panties to the side and slips inside of me, I hear his
version of the same shuddering gasp that I just made.
This isn’t a dream. Not for him. Not for me. The sensation of him filling
me, of me tightening around him, is proof of that.
He thrusts in and out of me, never losing eye contact for long. His finger
slides into my mouth and I suck on it slowly, inflamed by the desire hurtling
across his eyes.
It’s tentative, but it’s real. And it’s gonna work.
We’re gonna make it work.

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 RUSLAN

“Aw, come on, Ruslan! It’s been so long since I’ve been out of the house.”
She’s right about that. I’ve forced my little kiska to be a shut-in and now
that she’s got a little taste of freedom, she’s demanding more.
I have only myself to blame.
“We’ve been out all day, Emma.”
She turns those pleading blue eyes on me and grabs my arm. “Exactly! So
what’s a couple more hours? I’m hungry.”
That’s how we end up at The Loaded Spoon. She scoots into her seat with a
happy smile and it’s hard to regret agreeing to this in the first place. Emma
deserves to be wined and dined. She deserves to be seen on my arm—not as
a trophy or a prize, but the yin to my yang.
She orders more food than she can possibly eat on her own and, as we’re
sitting there waiting for it, I decide to pull out the flat blue box that I picked
up while she’d been browsing baby clothes.
“What’s this?” Her eyes go wide as I slide the box over to her.
“I wasn’t about to let my father show me up. I had this specially made for
you.”
She picks the box up tentatively and unclasps it. But her gaze veers to me
before she opens the lid. “Ruslan, this is extremely not necessary.”
“Open it anyway.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, she opens the box. Another gasp. This one is
higher, sharper, ten times more delicious. “Ruslan…” she murmurs as she
pulls out the diamond bracelet with three fat pearls hanging off it. Her
bottom lip quivers. “I can’t believe you did this.”
I wind my fingers through hers and lean closer. I want her to feel the weight
of my words. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to love another man’s
children as much as my own. But now, that feels like a stupid thought. I’d
give them the world on a platter if I could, kiska. They’re mine in every
way that matters. Just like you.”
She clamps down on her lip to stop it from trembling, then offers me her
wrist. “Can you put it on me?”
“With pleasure.”
I fit the clasp around her wrist and she stares at it with wide eyes. “It’s
blinding.”
“So are you.”
She blushes. It’s fucking adorable. Then the food hits the table and we help
ourselves to what feels like one of everything on the whole damn menu.
She’s been craving meat the last couple of weeks, which is definite proof
that she’s carrying my baby.
The waiter is walking away with our dessert order when I notice a face
that’s irritatingly familiar. “Fuck…” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asks immediately.
Of course, the bastard heads directly for the table next to ours. And he’s not
alone, either. Emma follows the direction of my gaze. Her eyes land on
Adrik—but she doesn’t pale until she sees the woman standing next to him.
“Jessica Allens,” she hisses.
“Well, well. Funny running into you here,” Adrik remarks with that smarmy
smile of his. “You both know my date, of course. Say hello, Jess.”
Jessica’s gaze is fixed squarely on Emma. There’s not even a hint of a polite
social smile. “Officially dating your boss then?” she says coldly. “How on
trend. You can’t buy class, can you?”
“Alright now,” Adrik intercedes quickly. “Let’s play nice, shall we? After
all, Ruslan here is one of my oldest friends.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re playing fast and loose with that word.”
Adrik holds a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
“If only.”
“Are you really gonna let them talk to us like that?” Jessica demands.
Just the wheedling irritant that is her voice makes me want to commit
murder. Connections be damned. No amount of power or influence is worth
dealing with Jessica fucking Allens.
I made the right choice when I jettisoned her.
Adrik only smirks. “Ruslan is just a little miffed that I was able to do what
he couldn’t. It’s the way of the world, my dear. Other people’s success
engenders envy and bitterness.”
“Your success was stolen off the back of mine,” I growl. “What you are,
friend, is a fucking copycat bootlicker without a single original idea in his
head.”
His smile stays frozen in place as he turns his attention to Emma instead of
responding to me. “I must say, dear, you’re practically glowing.”
I stiffen instantly. Surely that had to be a coincidence. No one but my inner
circle knows that Emma is pregnant.
I watch him closely. There’s no indication that he knows more than he
should, but my skin is still crawling as he licks his lips. “Blue really is your
color. Matches your eyes perfectly.”
He doesn’t know. He’s just trying to goad me.
Emma clears her throat self-consciously. “I’d concentrate on your own date,
Adrik.”
Jessica practically hisses. “You know what they say: men can smell a sure
thing from a mile away.”
Emma’s eyes pop with outrage but I’m already out of my seat and bringing
her with me. Halfway to the door, I pause and turn back to Adrik. This
whole thing doesn’t sit right with me. I have to stop assuming anything’s a
coincidence with him anymore. I mean, he just happens to be at the same
restaurant that Emma and I choose on our only day out in forever?
Fuck no.
This motherfucker is up to something. And if Emma weren’t here, I might
have just stuck around to find out what. But I’m not about to put her at risk.
Especially not now.
A jolt on my hand pulls my attention back toward where we came from. I
see Adrik’s fingers wrapped around Emma’s forearm, just above the
bracelet I clasped on her myself. It’s a sick version of a kids’ game, the
three of us with hands linked like this.
Adrik stares into her face and smiles crookedly. “Goodbye, Emma.
Pregnancy really does suit you.”
I go fucking cross-eyed.
He knows.
How the fuck does he know?
I don’t wait around to find out. I rip Emma away and rush her out of the
door.
“R-Ruslan?” Emma’s voice is shaky. “Are you alright?”
I don’t bother answering. Instead, I call Kirill.
He answers after only a few rings. “Yo. What’s up?”
“You, Fyodor, Vadim. Half an hour. My office.”
“I’ll set it up.”
The line goes dead and Emma’s worry grows more pronounced. Her knee is
bouncing now and I can see her vein popping in my peripheral vision.
“Ruslan?”
“I should never have taken you out today.”
She bites her bottom lip. “It was a good day—”
“Right up until that fucker showed up with his banshee.”
“I-is this about… the drug that he ripped off?”
If only it were just about that. “He knows too much.”
“My pregnancy,” she whispers in a small voice.
“The moment we step out of the estate, we’re exposed. You’re exposed.
And that makes you an easy target.”
“Ruslan, you’re overthinking.” Her voice is comforting, seductively so, but
I’m too far gone to be soothed.
I blare on the horn as we approach the gates of my estate. They fling open
and I speed through onto the driveway. But even after the gates are closed
behind us and the garage door is sealed shut, I can’t bring myself to relax.
Emma’s hand lands on my arm but, gentle as it is, it doesn’t stop me from
flinching. “Ruslan—”
“I’ll explain everything to you soon. But right now, I need to collect my
thoughts and get ready for this meeting.”
Her face turns somber but she nods all the same. “Okay. You’ll find me
afterwards?”
I nod and bend down, catching her lips with mine. Then I pull away and
step out of the car. There’s a time for kissing the woman you love and
there’s a time for gutting any motherfucker who thinks he can take her away
from you.
This is the latter.
I’ve been acting under the belief that Adrik is a mild threat. A pest who can
be easily handled, easily neutralized. But I no longer believe that.
I underestimated him. And that’s not a mistake I intend to make again.
Not when I have a family to raise.
Not when I have lives to protect.

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 RUSLAN

Two things never change at these gatherings: Vadim’s eyes darting from
side to side and my father sitting placidly in his chair, daydreaming of his
gardens instead of giving a damn about the issue at hand.
“You have nothing to say, brother?” my uncle demands, forcing Fyodor to
meet his eyes.
“Does he need to say anything?” I interject. “I’m the pahkan.”
“And you wouldn’t have called this meeting unless you wanted our
opinions.”
“Wrong. I called this meeting because I expect your support.”
“Meaning what?” Vadim fumes. “Our thoughts are of no consequence to
you?”
That’s putting it mildly. But I rein in my tongue and remember that, at the
end of the day, I have to lead. And in order to lead, you can’t alienate your
closest vors.
Even if one in particular is being a pain in the ass.
I stare my uncle down. “Are you saying that you’re opposed to my
decision?”
“Are you saying you’ve already made the decision?” He turns to look at his
older brother. “And do you agree with it?”
Fyodor doesn’t spare a glance in Vadim’s direction. Instead, he gazes at me.
He looks like a man with no skin in the game. We might as well be
discussing the weather, not violent underworld warfare. “The Oryolovs and
the Makarovs have been allies for four generations. This bad blood with
you and Adrik started as silly, friendly competition.”
“That’s what I’ve believed all these years, too,” I agree. “But something
changed along the way. It became more than just friendly sparring. It
became fucking personal.”
“Ruslan’s right,” Kirill offers, throwing his voice into the fray. “Adrik
crossed a line by abducting Sergey and stealing the Venera formula. If that
weren’t enough, he also botched Ruslan’s launch of Venera. A botch that
cost civilian lives—”
“There will be a great many more civilian lives lost if you engage Adrik in
open war,” Vadim points out.
“You surprise me, Uncle,” I muse. “You’ve never been one to advise
caution. I believe you once called it the ‘coward’s first instinct.’”
Vadim’s eyes flare. “That is only where our enemies are concerned.”
“And what is Adrik if not an enemy?” I crack my knuckles and lean
forward. “He’s certainly no longer a friend to the Oryolov Bratva.
Especially given the threats he has made against Emma.”
Vadim stiffens, his skin going blotchy with unease. “He threatened Emma?”
“He made a point of commenting on her pregnancy.”
Vadim’s eyes bulge. “But… how? We were the only ones you told. And
none of us would betray you.”
“Can we be sure of that?” Fyodor asks quietly.
For the first time, I notice the thin sheen of sweat on my uncle’s brow. He
runs a hand over his head. “I know Arkady, Nikolai, and Mikael. All three
of those men would rather slit their own throats than go against the Bratva.”
His attention veers to Fyodor. “Do you agree, brother?”
Fyodor hesitates for only a second. “Yes, I agree. I’ve known those men for
decades. I branded them with their marks myself. Those men are loyal.”
Kirill purses his lips. “Well, someone talked.”
Vadim raises an eyebrow. “Unless… unless Adrik has eyes on you, nephew.
A spy. Someone you would never suspect. Someone who could get close
enough to watch without being noticed themselves.”
I shake my head. “All my staff have been properly vetted.”
“Are you sure?”
His tone rubs me the wrong way. Mostly because that nasally pitch is
making me doubt my vetting process, as well as every member of staff I’ve
employed that has any kind of exposure to Emma and the children.
Which, in this case, is all of them.
Fuck.
“This was not an easy decision to come to,” I say through gritted teeth.
“But, somehow, Adrik has shifted from thorn in my side to full-blown
menace. And he needs to be dealt with.”
I glance around the room. Kirill’s expression is the easiest to read. He nods
at me with resignation. Fyodor looks back towards the garden, uncaring.
And Vadim… Vadim is looking back at me with grim submissiveness.
“You are the pahkan,” he concludes. “Your will, our hands.”

Emma’s fingers glide over the skin on either side of my forehead. She
caresses gently before adding pressure. “Blyat’,” I growl. “That feels
amazing.”
Her breath flutters against my ear. “Breathe. Relax. I’m here.”
And amazingly enough, I do relax.
How? I have no idea. I’m in the middle of a war and yet here I am, letting
my eyes drift closed as my woman massages my scalp.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to,” she adds.
It’s generous, especially since I know she desperately wants to know how it
went. I’m still processing it myself. But, quite apart from my promise to be
honest and transparent, I find that I actually want to share with her.
“I made the decision to take Adrik out today.”
I’m expecting some kind of feedback. A hissed inhale, a flutter in her touch.
But all I’m met with is silence. I open an eye and glance at her.
Emma is still stroking my forehead, her lips pursed up thoughtfully. “And
you feel… sad about that?” she ventures.
“I’m not sad about anything.”
“Can we remove the macho male ego from this conversation, please? It
might actually be a lot more effective that way.”
“Ouch.”
She giggles and that sound goes a long way in relaxing me, too. “Come on,”
she whispers. “Tell me what you’re really feeling.”
The suggestion makes me shudder. Have I ever just sat with my thoughts
and let myself feel? If I’d done that when we lost Mother and Leonid, I’d
have imploded. Maybe that’s why I decided a long time ago to keep an
arm’s distance between me and my feelings.
“I’ve known Adrik since I was a kid,” I murmur. “We used to play together
as little boys.”
Emma’s fingers stop moving abruptly. Just long enough to meet my eyes. I
can see all that empathy swimming inside her, ready to forgive a man that
she hates simply because she’s able to picture who he was before he was a
monster.
“Is this story gonna make me feel sorry for Adrik?”
I laugh brusquely. “I don’t know.”
She sighs. “Go on.”
“We’ve always had this competitive thing going between us. In the early
days, it was more like sibling rivalry than open hostility.”
“When did it change?”
Good fucking question. “Adrik was always a thorn in my side. Constantly
trying to outdo me, undercut me, sabotage me… but it never got to the point
that I considered him a legitimate threat. At least, not until the Venera
launch.”
“And now, you’ve decided to…” She pauses like the thought of ordering an
execution is still too much to even think, let alone say out loud. “To do this
thing. And you’re feeling… bad about this decision?”
“It is the right choice. There was a time when the competitiveness between
us was a good thing. He pushed me to be better. A more accomplished
fighter, a faster runner, a better shot. It was something of a game.”
“Until it wasn’t?”
“Until I became pahkan and everything stopped being a game to me.”
“Maybe he was jealous of what you became.”
I grind my teeth. “I lost my mother and my only brother to get it.”
“Sometimes, people don’t appreciate the cost of certain things because they
never have to pay that price themselves.” Sighing, my gaze finds hers. She
stops massaging my forehead and cups the side of my face. “Maybe it
doesn’t have to end this way.”
I smile painfully. “It’s kind that you’re trying to save him.”
“Him?” she balks. “Fuck him. I’m trying to find a way for you to avoid the
guilt you’re already feeling for so much as considering taking him out.”
This woman. My God. She is a fucking marvel.
I shrug up to an elbow and pull her a little closer to me. “I’ve never done
this before,” I whisper as my finger starts stroking the soft skin behind her
knee.
“Gotten a scalp massage?”
I roll my eyes. “No. Discussed strategy with a partner. Discussed anything
with a partner, really. I’ve never even wanted to before now.”
“And you… don’t hate it?” she asks hopefully.
I kiss her lips softly. “It could be worse.”
She sighs with obvious relief. “Good. Because I really, really enjoy this.”
Her expression shifts. “Uh—I mean, not the topic exactly. Just the feeling of
—”
“I know, kiska. I get it.”
She smiles self-consciously and places a hand on my chest, just over my
heart. “I want to be able to help you carry all this weight you’re toting
around. You don’t have to do anything on your own anymore. We’re a team,
Ruslan. We’re in this together. I want you to know that I’ve always got your
back.”
I used to think that this kind of dynamic would be claustrophobic. But as it
turns out, it’s invigorating.
In the end, it also helps put things into perspective. Because the truth is, I
will do whatever it takes to keep this woman in my arms safe. To keep her
happy. To keep her beside me.
Including destroying someone I’ve known my entire life.
“I have something for you,” I tell her suddenly. I reach over to the bedside
table and withdraw a sheaf of papers from the drawer. I hand it to her and
lean back to watch her reaction.
But one minute passes, then two, and Emma still hasn’t gotten around to
turning over the first page. Given how bad her hands are trembling, I don’t
think she’s read more than the first line of the first page, actually.
“R-Ruslan…”
“Emma.” My palms massage the backs of her arms as I nudge her forehead
with mine to make her look at me. “Breathe, kiska.”
“It’s my parents, isn’t it?” Her hands are not the only things shaking. Her
voice is dangerously wobbly, too. “They found a judge to overturn the order
and—”
“No.”
She blinks at me helplessly. “No?”
“They’ve dropped their case entirely,” I inform her. “These documents are
from the court stating that you and you alone have permanent custody of the
kids. It’s over, Emma. You won.”
It takes a minute for those words to sink in. Her eyebrows inch upwards as
her mouth opens wider.
“I… won?” she says, as though she’s trying on the words for size.
“You won.”
She clutches my forearm. “So no one can take the kids from me?”
“Not a damn person alive.”
Emma looks down at the papers again. “I can’t believe it. It’s finally over.”
She deserves this moment. She deserves to feel this kind of overwhelming
relief. Fuck, I’m feeling it and I haven’t even been in these kids’ lives a
whole year yet.
“We should celebrate!” she decides eagerly. “Let’s take the kids out for
lunch—just the five of us. What do you say?”
“What I say is, why go out when you have a five-star chef on hand to
prepare us a picnic in the gardens?”
She grins. “I’ll round up the munchkins.”

Half an hour later, we’re sprawled across the South Gardens on a giant
picnic blanket weighed down with sandwiches, pastries, cookies, cakes, and
on and on. The girls of course went right for the sugar, which might have
something to do with why they’re currently doing cartwheels across the
grass.
“Hope they sweat out all that energy by dinner,” I mutter.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Emma giggles and runs a hand through
Josh’s hair. He glances between the two of us with curiosity but he doesn’t
say anything.
“When do we start our new school again?” Caroline asks as she skips over
to us. “I have an outfit all ready for the first day and I can’t wait to wear it.”
I smile. “Fortunately, the first day of school is around the corner. Even more
fortunately, you don’t have to worry about what to wear each day. Because
you three will have a uniform.”
Caroline and Reagan plop down onto the edge of the blanket. “A uniform?”
Rae repeats as she reaches for her sixth or twelfth cookie of the afternoon.
“What’s that?”
“It means that everyone in the whole school wears the same clothes,” Josh
explains for me.
Emma nods. “Ruslan and I checked out the school yesterday. It’s amazing!
And the uniforms are pretty cool, too. You’ll have blue skirts and white
shirts and on special occasions, there’s even a tie.”
“You went to the school?” Josh asks as the girls ooh and ahh about the dress
code.
“Mhmm. It’s different from the one that Ruslan had in mind for you guys
but I think you’ll love it a lot more.”
“How come it’s different?” Reagan chimes in.
This kid. She knows when to listen and when to ask the hard-hitting
questions. I see investigative journalism in her future.
I answer before Emma can. “Because your aunt wants the best for you. And
I overlooked certain things when I picked Horace Mann. But with her input,
we decided on the best choice for you guys. And that’s Chilton Academy.”
She purses her lips as she considers that. “Ruslan,” she asks at last, “are you
our dad now?”
Emma nearly chokes on her glass of orange juice. She puts the glass down
but Reagan’s eyes are fixed on me.
Forget journalism. She needs to go into enhanced interrogation.
Emma puts her hand on Reagan’s knee. “Rae, sweetheart—”
“I suppose I am now.”
Emma stops short. I probably should have spoken to her first before
answering Reagan’s question but, hell, you don’t always have the time to
discuss everything. And this feels right.
“I thought so,” she hums knowingly.
Emma’s eyes are fixed on me but I keep my gaze on Reagan, Caroline, and
Josh. “I’m new to this whole fatherhood thing,” I admit. “And I’m probably
gonna make a lot of mistakes along the way.”
“We’ll help you,” Josh offers softly.
Emma’s bottom lip gives a little quiver. “I know you will, Josh,” I say with
a smile. “And even with that help, I’ll still fall short. But one thing you can
be sure of—I will never let anyone hurt you guys. I’m gonna keep you safe
and if anyone tries to hurt you three… well, I’ll just have to kill them.”
I probably should have rephrased the end of that sentence. Emma lets out a
shocked little gasp but the kids look delighted. Josh is smiling and Reagan
and Caroline giggle.
“He’s talking metaphorically, angels,” Emma says, throwing me a fierce
glare. “Right, Ruslan?”
I nod as solemnly as I can. “Something like that.”
Then the girls jump on top of me, squealing with delight, and, a few
seconds later, I hear Emma’s laughter join theirs.
We don’t usually train in the evenings, but tonight, Josh insisted. It was
only six and Emma had already taken the girls upstairs for their baths so I
figured, why not?
I’ve come to look forward to our boxing lessons just as much as he does.
It’s more than just a lesson in self-defense at this point; it’s a lesson in life.
Ever since Josh started therapy, he’s been so much more focused in the ring.
But there’s none of the same anxious desperation in it that marked that first
day. Now, he’s smooth and calm and controlled and powerful.
It makes me so fucking proud.
“So,” I say during our break, “how’s therapy going?”
I don’t usually ask unless Josh brings it up himself, but there’s a lightness
about him today that encourages me to bring up the topic.
“Good. I like Dr. Alicia.”
“I’m glad. And the nightmares have stopped?”
Josh glances at me. “Yeah. No more of ‘em.”
I already know that. I’ve taken to standing outside Josh’s door at odd times
in the night just to make sure. Emma caught me once and I pretended that
I’d gotten a call and had to take it in the hallway.
She has worried enough about these kids for one lifetime. It’s time for me to
take over that responsibility.
“Ruslan, can I ask you something?”
“You can always ask me anything, Josh.”
He gives me a small, tight smile. “What do you really do?”
I answer carefully. “I run a company called Bane Security. That’s how your
aunt and I met. She was my secretary.”
Josh shakes his head. “Yeah, I know that’s what you do officially. But I
want to know what you really do.”
Is he asking me what I think he’s asking me?
“Josh…”
“Those men who took me… I know they took me because of you, Ruslan.”
There’s nothing accusatory about his tone. In fact, he looks more
uncomfortable than scared right now, as though he’s worried about
offending me. “I know you’re important. And you’re rich. And there are
people after you sometimes. I think… I think that means something.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a smart kid.”
“I’m not too young to know the truth, if that’s what you’re gonna say.”
“You’re right.” I sigh and remove my hand. “You’re careful. And observant.
And smart. And my policy is, if you’re mature enough to ask the questions,
you’re mature enough to get honest answers.”
Josh sucks in a surprised breath. He was expecting excuses, non-answers.
Maybe even lies. He doesn’t deserve any of that.
“Your instincts aren’t wrong, Josh. Tell me—what are your theories?”
He glances nervously at me. “M-my… theories?”
“Go ahead. Go wild.”
He lets out a self-conscious little laugh. “I was playing around with
‘superhero.’ You know, like Batman.”
“I’m flattered.”
He shakes his head. “Then I thought ‘spy.’”
“But not anymore?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes, it feels like you could be…” He trails off, dropping
his gaze at the same time. Then his mouth clamps shut and instinctively I
think I know what he was about to say.
“The bad guy.”
Josh’s eyes go wide with worry. “I know that you’re not—”
“Sometimes, that’s exactly what I am.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to tell
you the honest truth, Josh, but I need you to agree to keep it secret from
anyone who would ever ask you. Can I trust you with that?”
He nods so hard that I fear for his neck for a moment. “Of course,” he says
proudly. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Good.” I clear my throat and kneel in front of him. “I am in charge of
something called a Bratva. I’m not going to explain exactly what that is yet,
but it means I don’t always follow the rules, Josh. That includes the law.
I’m often involved in dangerous things; I’m often involved with dangerous
people. More often than not, I’m the bad guy. But—when it comes to you
and your sisters, when it comes to Aunt Emma, I’m always gonna be your
biggest protector. You have nothing to fear from me. Not now. Not ever.”
He exhales sharply.
“Are you scared?”
“No,” he insists. “Not of you.”
I nod and squeeze his shoulder. “Good. Because I only ever want you to
feel safe when you’re with me.”
His expression churns slowly but I have no idea what any of it means. Is he
still processing? Have I shared too much with him? Is this one of those
conversations I should have had after talking to Emma? Or maybe she
should have been included in the first place.
Fucking it up already. This whole “equal partners” thing is a tricky
bastard.
“Remember what I told you, Josh. I want you to feel safe with me. That
means you can tell me anything.”
He chews on his bottom lip. It reminds me so much of Emma. His eyes dart
up at me and then back down again. The process repeats several times
before he finally opens his mouth.
“I… I wanna be like you,” he says so quietly that I almost miss it. “I know
that you do bad things sometimes. But I also know that you’re a good man.
You’ve taken care of us. You’ve given us a home. You looked after us when
our own dad didn’t. You don’t always follow the rules but I know you’d
never hurt me like he did.”
Something inside me twists. Something deeply feral, instinctive…
protective.
He’s right, though.
He’s right about all of it.
“I want to grow up to be a leader. I want to grow up and protect my family
like you’ve protected us. I want to fight like you. I want to be a part of
the… the Bratva… if that’s what it takes.”
The stakes have never felt higher. Again, I find myself thinking that Emma
should be here for this conversation. But as I look into Josh’s steadfast eyes,
the confident set of his jaw, the way his nostrils are flared with
determination, I realize something.
This is his decision to make.
No one else’s.
“Your life is your choice, Josh.”
He looks stunned for a moment, as though the concept of having control
over his own life is a foreign concept. I suppose, for a child, it is.
But Josh isn’t a child anymore.
“Dad used to tell me that I had to be whatever he wanted me to be.”
My jaw clenches furiously. “I’m not him. I’ll never do what he did to you.”
Josh’s face splits into a brilliant smile. “I already knew that.”

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Chilton Academy.
It’s still an elite New York City private school, which means it’s still a red-
bricked monstrosity with ivy creeping up the walls and Latin credos worked
into the wrought iron gates.
But it’s not Horace Mann, so it only gives me a fraction of the full-body
cringe that that old nightmare warzone would’ve given me.
As old school as the facade is, there’s nothing old school about the security
system they’ve got in place. Boris has to scan his ID twice each at two
different gates before he can drive the children and me into the school’s
drop-off circle. Once he’s parked, I walk the kids towards the school. The
girls have a separate entrance than Josh, so he tags along as I drop Caro and
Rae off at their respective classrooms.
The classrooms are bright, airy, and colorful. Every teacher has that
beaming sense of I’m friendly but you will learn from me, goddammit
competence that puts my mama bear claws at ease.
When Josh sees the sign for his classroom, he gives me a wide grin and
lopes off.
“Wait!” I call after him. “Don’t you want me to walk with you?”
Josh gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m good—but thanks, Aunt Em.”
I suppress a sigh. He’s all grown up. “Off you go then.”
Sighing, I turn and start the trek back to the car. It’s reassuring to pass by
the armed security stationed at every corner. One of them mutters into the
microphone at his lapel as I walk down the hall.
And just like that, an idea lights up in my head.
I pick up my speed and hustle back. The more I think about it, the more I
like this. Now, I just have to convince Boris that taking me to Bane Corp. is
a good idea. I decide to be super casual about it. “Kids are all settled, Boris.
We can head over to the office now.”
He twists around in his seat. “The Bane offices, ma’am?”
“Yes. I have something urgent to discuss with Mr. Oryolov.”
Boris clears his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe I should call and check with
him first—”
“Boris.” I fix him with my most intimidating glare. “I am not Mr. Oryolov’s
prisoner. Nor am I his puppet. I do not need to check with him before I go
somewhere and neither do you.”
“Actually, I do. I’m on the payroll.”
“And you’re assigned to me. Which means you take me where I want to
go.” He’s still antsy, so I add, “It’s Bane, Boris. I’m not asking you to take
me to a seedy strip club.”
He snorts with laughter and nods. “Alright then. Bane it is.”
“Wonderful.”
The drive to Bane takes longer than I expect in New York City traffic. I
stew with my new idea but the bulb over my head doesn’t dim.
This could be something…
I unbuckle myself before Boris has even come to a full stop outside of the
Bane skyscraper. I toss him a thank you and race into the building. I’m
moving so fast that it doesn’t even hit me until the elevator doors open how
freaking weird it is to be back here. Walking down the hall feels a little like
trying on an old, forgotten dress. It’s familiar, but it doesn’t quite fit right. I
haven’t been away for that long and yet, it feels like forever.
What’s even weirder is seeing the new guy at what was once my desk. Less
weird is seeing the harried look of terror on his face. All things considered,
that’s pretty standard for Ruslan Oryolov’s assistants.
Ruslan’s voice booms through the closed door of his office room. With
every word, the new guy shivers.
“Fuck,” he mutters, completely unaware of my presence. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,
fuck.”
I smile. Not so long ago, that had been me.
That’s when New Guy glances up and nearly jerks out of his seat. “My
goodness, you scared me!” He glances quickly towards the door. “My boss
is… um… What can I do for you?”
Ruslan’s weekly schedule is pulled up on the screen but there’s a big,
glaring blank spot in the middle of his calendar where there should be a
meeting. I can’t help but notice that New Guy’s desk is a mess, too. I can
sympathize. Mine had been the same the first few weeks on the job. It takes
a while to get your bearings when there’s a minotaur stomping around and
snarling Russian obscenities in the office behind you.
“I think I should be the one asking that question.”
New Guy frowns. “Um—”
“What were you freaking out about when I walked in?” I ask, forgetting for
a moment why I’m here in the first place. “I might be able to help.”
“How?”
“Because, in a former life, I was you.”
New Guy looks pasty. There’s a nice guy there, deep down, buried beneath
layers of fear. When he sees I’m serious, he wipes away the sweat on his
brow. “I don’t know how, but I’ve lost an appointment here,” he says,
pointing to the blank spot on his computer screen. “And I don’t remember
what or who it was with. I don’t even have a number I can—”
I lean over his shoulder and nudge him to the side a little. Then I
commandeer his keyboard and start tapping away at it.
“Wait. What are you… no, don’t press—wait!”
“Take a breath, sweetheart,” I advise him. “And maybe a Xanax.” I push the
screen to the side so that he can see what I’ve recovered. “There. I fixed it
for you.”
He looks ready to cry with relief as he turns his gaze to me. “Are you an
angel?”
I laugh. I’m explaining the trick to him when Ruslan stalks out of his office
on the warpath. His scowl dissipates the moment he sees me.
New Guy jerks to his feet and tries to bow and salute at the same time,
which ends up looking like he’s slapping himself in the face and doubling
over.
“Emma, what are you…” Ruslan trails off as his eyes veer towards New
Guy. “She is never to be kept waiting. You see her, you send her into my
office no matter what. I don’t care if I’m in a meeting or on a call or in
fucking open heart surgery. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, of course, sir. I apologize—”
“I just got here, Ruslan. It’s okay.” I walk over to him, take his arm, and
steer him back into his office. Partly because I do need to talk to him and
partly because I want to spare New Guy the indignity of peeing himself.
“What are you doing here?” he growls, glancing at all the windows like
armies of assassins might bust in at a moment’s notice.
“I convinced Boris to drive me over after dropping the kids off. So don’t
yell at him, either, because I didn’t give him a choice.” I glance towards the
closed door of his office. “Do you have to be such a brute in the office?
Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘you catch more flies with honey than
vinegar’?”
He rolls his eyes. “I prefer a ‘fear over love’ kind of approach.”
I snort. “Have you made him cry yet?”
“First day,” he says with entirely too much satisfaction. “And yet he
showed up to work the next day, so I figured he had potential.” He pulls me
hard against him and wraps his arms around me. “You still haven’t
answered my question.”
“While dropping the kids off, I had an idea.”
“Does it involve seducing me between meetings? Because I could get on
board with that idea.”
His hands slide down to my ass. I grab them and pull them back up.
“Concentrate, Mr. Oryolov. That is not what I came here for. This is serious
business.”
“Then you should have scheduled an appointment. Although that dolt out
there probably would have fucked that up, too.”
I shake my head in amusement. “You know… I could always come back
here and be your assistant.”
His eyebrows knit together but there’s a definitive smile on his face.
“Hmm… I could offer you added benefits…”
“If you’re talking about the benefits I’m thinking of, then it’s a done deal.”
His hands are wandering again so I twist out of his arms and put some
distance between us. “But that’ll have to wait. You’re not paying attention.”
“If you wanted me to pay attention, you should have worn a different
blouse.” I look down at my white silk blouse which I used to think was
quite conservative. The way Ruslan is looking at me right now suggests
otherwise, though. “Now, come here and—”
“This is about Adrik.”
That gets his attention. “Adrik?”
Suddenly, I feel nervous. Should I be butting in this way? Do I have the
right to get involved in Bratva matters? When it comes to the family,
demanding an equal voice is one thing. But Bratva business is a totally
different ball game.
“Emma?”
Ruslan doesn’t sound annoyed or pissed. He sounds… curious?
I clear my throat. “It’s just an idea,” I say softly. “It’s yours to take or leave.
I just thought it might help.”
He grows instantly serious. “Hold on. Let me get Kirill in here, too.” He
rounds his desk to call in Kirill and I feel a thrill of excitement race down
my back.
Not only is he prepared to hear me out, but he’s taking me seriously. I don’t
say a word… but it means everything to me. Mostly, it means that we have
a chance at a real future together. One based on mutual respect.
Understanding. Love.
He will always be the alpha.
But I get to be his queen.

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 EMMA

“You don’t have to do this.”

I sigh. It’s probably the hundredth time he’s told me that in the last week.
Okay, so maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But we’ve entered the high
double digits for sure.
“Ruslan…”
He shakes his head in exasperation. “I know. I fucking know. But what I
don’t know is why I agreed to this crazy plan in the first place.”
“You thought this plan was brilliant when you first heard it.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t think I used the word ‘brilliant.’”
I put my hand under my chin cartoonishly. “No? Must’ve been ‘inspired’
then.”
“Not even close.”
“I’m positive I heard ‘bold.’”
He lets out a weary sigh. “I’ll cop to that. But that was before…”
“Before what?”
His eyes scan up and down my body. “Before I saw you in that dress.”
I catch a glimpse of myself in the window of the Audi as it rolls to a stop in
front of us. Speaking of “brilliant,” “bold,” and “inspired,” the dress I’m
wearing does a brilliant, bold, and inspirational job of hiding my baby
bump. The corset stops just above my stomach and the skirt flares out over
it. It’s enough to hoodwink even me.
I maneuver into the back of the car in my dangerously high platform heels
and reach for Ruslan’s hand the moment he joins me.
“You have nothing to worry about, okay? I got this.”
“It doesn’t have to be you.” His jaw is clenched tight. So much so that I can
see a muscle I never knew existed twitching along his left cheekbone.
“Of course it does. He won’t be interested in anyone else.” Even still, I can
hear his teeth grind together. “Exhale, Ruslan. You’re gonna chip a tooth.”
His gaze glides over my dress again. The combination of the short skirt and
the high heels make my legs look miles long. Gotta be honest—I’m not
mad about that.
Ruslan seems to be, though.
“You should have worn a different dress. This one’s too short. And too
tight. And too…”
“Go on,” I tease, whirling my hand toward him. “I’m all ears.”
He glowers. “Couldn’t you have picked something with long sleeves and a
grandma collar?”
I suppress a laugh. This possessive little freakout of his is actually helping
calm me down a little. It’s not like I can admit to feeling nervous now
anyway. Not when Ruslan is fully prepared to yank me out of this mission
before it’s even begun.
“I’m gonna be fine. I can handle this, Ruslan. You just have to trust me.”
His eyes snap to mine, incandescent with anger. “Of course I trust you. It’s
that rat bastard I don’t trust.”
I squeeze his hand as we approach the nightclub. The music pulses down
the road towards us. Feels like the red carpet is being rolled out. “It’s gonna
be a good night.”
I’m not even sure Ruslan hears me. When we stop, he gets out of the Audi
and, a few moments later, he opens my door and helps me out of the car.
There’s a slight chill in the air but I feel immune to it. Turns out, adrenaline
is quite warming.
He holds my hand tight as we make our way through the club and into the
VIP section. I hoist myself onto one of the high barstools while Ruslan
orders me a seltzer water. He leans an elbow on the bar and turns to me, his
face roiling with emotional thunder.
“Ruslan, we’re at a nightclub,” I whisper to him. “You need to lighten up.
At least pretend you know how to have fun.”
The same glare he’s worn all night keeps burning in my direction. “Are you
sure about this?”
“It was my idea, remember?” I place my hand against his wrist. “You gonna
give this plan a fair shake or what?” It takes him a moment but he finally
nods. “Good. Then kiss me and get outta here.”
He bends down and drops a kiss on my lips. I’m expecting something
quick, gentle, businesslike. But what I get instead is the kind of open-
mouthed, tongue-flickering kiss that has my head spinning and my panties
feeling extremely unnecessary.
“My Lord,” I gasp when he breaks the kiss. “What was that?”
“Balm for the soul,” is all he says before he walks away.
I’m still trying to get my head screwed on straight when I feel another
presence at my back. Wow, that took much less time than I’d anticipated.
Thank God for predictable men.
“Well, well—fancy running into you here.”
Adrik takes the stool that Ruslan just vacated. He’s wearing a silk shirt open
to mid-chest, with gold chains looped heavily almost down to his belly
button. Whoever told him he looked good tonight was either blind, a liar, or
both.
“Adrik,” I greet coldly, looking away.
“Don’t tell me he’s disappeared on you already? I thought Ruslan had better
manners than that.”
“He had business to attend to.”
I eye the bartender, but he’s indisposed on the other side of the bar. It’s
gonna look too suspicious if I flag him down just so that Adrik can order a
drink.
Wait it out. Be patient.
“Business? Not even that can justify leaving a beautiful woman all by
herself at the bar.” He flashes me a smile and I have to try my hardest not to
cringe away from him.
Instead, I reach for my seltzer water.
“Not in the mood for something stronger tonight?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t try to be cute. It doesn’t suit you.”
He laughs, unfazed. “I like you, Emma. I can see why Ruslan’s head was
turned. Of course, now that he has you…”
The bartender is on our side of the bar now but Adrik doesn’t seem to be
interested in getting himself a drink.
Goddammit. Drink something, you useless piece of shit!
“What are you trying to imply?”
He shrugs innocently. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just making an
observation. He’s over there somewhere schmoozing the VIPs, while you’re
sitting here by your lonesome. Doesn’t seem very gentlemanly of him.”
“Oh, and you know something about being a gentleman, do you?”
“More than Ruslan, it seems.”
“Alright, then tell me, Adrik: is it ‘gentlemanly’ to make a woman drink
alone?”
He arches his brow. A second later, he snaps his fingers in the direction of
the bartender. “Gin and tonic. On the rocks.”
I slide my hand into the discreet side pocket in my dress. It’s starting to feel
a little too tight. Of course, that could just be the nerves talking.
“No Jessica this evening?” My voice shakes a little but I’m hoping that the
music drowns it out. Get it together, Em. You’re the one that wanted to do
this.
“She’s on call if I need her.”
“Poor girl,” I sigh sarcastically. “Must get tiring being on call for a man.”
“She’s used to it. She was trained well by your man.”
The implication is not even remotely subtle. If I didn’t have an ulterior
motive, I’d have walked—no, ran—a long time ago. Instead, I’m stuck
here, waiting for my window of opportunity.
In the side pocket of my dress, my fingers close around the small pill and
withdraw it in a closed fist beneath the bar counter. The bartender slides
over Adrik’s drink a second later.
This is it.
Here goes nothing…
“Pass me a napkin,” I request. “They’re right behind you.”
Adrik twists around to reach for them and I act fast. I don’t have time to
check to make sure no one’s watching me. I just suck in a breath and pop
the little pill right into his gin and tonic. I’ve been assured that the pill is
supposed to disintegrate the moment it hits liquid. Except that I’m pretty
sure I can still see it, nestled between two ice cubes and fizzing away
merrily.
Of course he had to order the fucking drink with rocks.
“Here you go.”
I take the napkin and hold eye contact. He can’t look at his drink until after
the pill has dissolved or else this whole plan is shot to shit. “Can I ask you
something?”
He glances back at me, his hand snaking around his glass. He jostles the
drink and the pill sinks between the cubes.
Thank God…
He takes a big sip of it. “Anything, my dear. Ask away.”
I’m sweating under the armpits now. That’s one thing no one ever tells you
about this kind of business: it’s hard to feel like a femme fatale undercover
spy when you’re sweating like a pig.
“Why do you hate Ruslan so much?”
He raises his eyebrows and takes another gulp of his gin and tonic. “I don’t
hate him.” The answer feels robotic, though. Rehearsed. “I’m just a
businessman trying to make a name for myself. Or are you trying to tell me
that Ruslan is afraid of a little healthy competition?”
His drink is nearly done already. I tilt my head to the side, eyes watering as
I try not to blink and break eye contact. “I’m not trying to tell you anything.
Now… if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air.”
If he doesn’t follow me, that shoots the second part of this plan to hell. But
if I ask him to come with me, he’ll get suspicious. So I trust my instincts,
finish my seltzer water, and sashay away towards the back of the club. I
don’t risk a glance over my shoulder, no matter how tempting it is. I wait
until I’ve left the claustrophobic haze of the club to breathe again.
The alleyway just outside is eerily quiet. It’s also dark enough to encourage
all sorts of bad intentions.
Your idea… This was your idea…
I’ve only been standing in the alleyway for a few seconds when the door
pushes open and Adrik appears.
I feign annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
“I would never leave you alone in a place like this. You could run into all
sorts of dangerous men.”
I purse my lips. “Feels like I already have.”
His eyes are already dilated and his leer is growing more and more
pronounced. But surely the drug can’t have taken effect already? It’s too
soon.
Maybe I jumped the gun, came out too fast. At least when we were back at
the bar, we were surrounded by people. I had the safety of a crowd.
Out here, shadows are our only company.
“Did I mention how stunning you look in that dress?” Adrik asks.
He steps towards me and I find myself shrinking back. “Adrik. I’m not
interested.”
“Someone certainly has a high opinion of herself. Just because I
compliment you doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.”
“That’s a relief. Can you tell that to your dick?”
He looks down at his crotch and guffaws at the noticeable erection pushing
against the front of his pants. “Whoops,” he laughs giddily. “Busted.”
If I weren’t feeling so damn vulnerable right now, I’d have rolled my eyes.
Keep him talking, Em. Just keep him talking.
“Tell me—is mine bigger? Or is his?”
I don’t have to fake this roll of my eyes. “Are we literally in a big dick
competition now?”
This has to be the Venera working its magic. I mean, no way would Adrik
have admitted that unless he was under the influence?
“You know that Ruslan and I are basically the same person, right?” he
presses.
I cock an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“He just happens to be luckier, that’s all. But I assure you, we are the same
fucking person.”
“Is that why you feel the need to copy everything he does?”
His eyes flash with anger. Careful, Emma. Toe the line. “I’m not a copycat.
I have a fucking vision for my future. For my empire. And you could be a
part of it.”
“You claim not to be a copycat and yet you’re trying to take everything that
belongs to him. Doesn’t add up.”
“Are you saying that you belong to him?” I tense and he laughs. But it’s not
a laugh that’s remotely pleasant. It’s mocking and condescending. The
equivalent of dragging broken glass over concrete. “He’s good at
convincing people of that, isn’t he? He did the same thing with Jessica, poor
thing.”
I thought I was the one pulling the strings here. But it strikes me suddenly
that he’s playing the game just as hard. I might have bitten off more than I
can chew.
“I’m not Jessica.”
He smirks. “You think you mean more to him than she did? Let me tell you
something: the only difference between you and Jessica is the fact that she
was smart enough not to get pregnant. You’re just a pretty incubator for his
heir. The moment that baby pops out, you’ll go back to being a nobody.”
Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the bait. Don’t take the—
“That’s not true!”
Dammit.
Adrik just laughs. “Of course it’s true. I’ve known the man a lot longer than
you have, Emma. You should be a fucking queen. Not the damn
broodmare.”
Gritting my teeth, the words fly out of me with indignation. “I am a queen.”
“Really? Where’s the ring then?”
I flinch. “W-what?”
He advances closer. “If he genuinely valued you, if he was really planning
on keeping you around after this baby is born, he’d have proposed. He’d
have put a ring on your finger and locked you down. Instead…”
Suddenly, I feel like the one who’s been drugged. “I… Y-you’re trying to
get in my head…”
He tut-tuts softly. “I’m trying to open your eyes. So open them, Emma!
Open them and see that the moment your baby is born, he will abandon you
for a woman who can really do things for him. Someone like… well, like
Jessica, maybe.”
I cringe back, but I’m running out of room to retreat. The cold brick wall
looms at my back, damp and foreboding. “N-no… no, that’s not true—”
“It’s absolutely true. You’ve seen that cow? She’s abhorrent. But everyone
puts up with her because she’s loaded. She’s connected. She’s got the ear of
one of the most powerful men in the city. She’ll be useful for Ruslan. But
you? Your use will be wrung out once your womb is empty.”
I turn away from him. “Stop talking.”
He fixes me with a sympathetic stare that makes me feel pathetic. “Why,
my dear? Am I starting to make sense?”
Adrik’s eyes are piercing. They bore into my face, peeling away all that
confidence I built up in the past few days leading up to this moment.
“I can offer you more than him, Emma.” The tenor of his voice has
changed. It has a strangely smooth quality. When my parents forced Sienna
and me to go to Bible camp when we were younger, the counselor there
used a voice just like this for the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Take a bite,
Emma. Just one little nibble.
“Leave me alone,” I mutter.
“Is that really what you want, Emma?” Adrik croons. “You want me to
leave you alone—like he left you alone?”
I know he’s talking about the club. About tonight. But my mind jumps to
the months before now. The day Ruslan decided to believe his doubts over
me. All those weeks where he clung to the worst version of me and refused
to hear my side of the story.
He had left me alone then.
Who’s to say he won’t do the same thing again?
I tunnel through the memories until I get stuck on one: the image of Ruslan
lying on a picnic blanket, both Caroline and Reagan sprawled on top of him
while Josh laughs.
I take a deep breath. I refocus.
“You’re trying to turn me against him,” I snarl, making eye contact with
Adrik. “He’s not the one who’s trying to use me. You are.”
He scoffs. “I’m—”
“You may not hate him but you are envious of him, of everything he’s built
and everything he’s accomplished. This whole feud between the two of you
started when you decided to give in to your inferiority complex.”
His jaw clenches. “I am inferior to no man! Least of all that motherfucker.”
“Why else would you try so hard to outdo Ruslan? Why else would you try
so hard to mimic him? Hell, the moment he was done with Jessica Allens,
you swooped in and scooped her up. If that isn’t the move of a desperate
man, I don’t know what is.”
“Desperate?” He gawks at me. “You think I’m fucking desperate?” He
takes a step in my direction and I back right into the rough brick wall that
flanks the club. “I’m not fucking desperate. I’m the one with the goddamn
upper hand!”
His eyes have this vaguely unnatural sheen over them. If I didn’t know
better, I’d assume he was high. Although perhaps using Venera isn’t that far
off. It’s been long enough now, right? He definitely seems less in control.
It’s ironic to think that I’ve been waiting for this moment since we arrived.
But now that it’s here, it doesn’t feel powerful like I imagined. So many
things could go wrong. So much hangs in the balance.
Keep your eyes on the ball.
Adrik inches closer. Another step forward and his chest will be pressed
against mine. Too close. Way too damn close.
Alarm bells are blaring inside my head and panic is starting to rise up my
throat like bile. My focus is crumbling under the surge of fear. But he hasn’t
given me anything significant yet and I need to make sure I get something
out of him first.
“‘The upper hand’? How do you figure that? Ruslan is the one with the
empire, not you.”
He growls. “Ruslan assumes he thinks of everything. But he wasn’t even
able to protect his precious Venera samples on the day of the launch.”
“So you did tamper with them?”
He laughs. “It was so fucking easy. Honestly, I didn’t even break a sweat.
The great Ruslan Oryolov. He didn’t realize that it was over before it had
even begun.”
“You killed innocent people.”
There’s not a shred of remorse on his face. His smile looks manic and he
keeps creeping closer and closer towards me.
“I did what I had to do. It’s what any great pahkan would do.”
“Except you’re not a pahkan.”
He growls, baring his teeth. “I’m whatever the fuck I want to be. And you
are gonna be whatever the fuck I want you to be, too.”
A shiver races down my spine. The bile in my throat rises higher. Focus,
Emma. He’s finally talking. “So your trump card is Sopernik?”
He looks surprised that I’ve mentioned Sopernik at all but he doesn’t
question me. “Sopernik is the future. It’s my ticket to greatness.”
“How did you manage to roll it out so fast?”
I’m aware that I’m not being very subtle anymore but that fog over Adrik’s
eyes is making me bold. His inhibitions are long gone right now and I
intend to take full advantage.
He bends down so low that I get a whiff of his gin breath. Ugh. Vomit-
inducing. “I did what I had to do,” he mutters vaguely.
Not good enough.
“Meaning you cut corners?”
He shrugs. “There might be unintended side effects. If a few people die—
well, no one’s gonna give a shit. In fact, they’ll be hard-pressed to link it to
my product in the first place.”
I shake my head. “You’re a fucking monster.”
“And you are starting to piss me off now, little hellcat.”
He grabs my hands suddenly and pins them to the wall. I can already feel
the bruises he’s gonna leave on my wrists as he traps me against his body.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t—
Too late. I’m panicking.
“No. Adrik. Let… me… go!”
My words are muffled in his heaving, hungry breaths. Venera may lower
inhibitions but it certainly doesn’t hinder strength. Adrik feels like a
mountain I’m trying to push off me.
“P-please… don’t do this…”
He just growls in my ear. “I’m gonna send you back to him stinking of me.
I’m gonna carve my fucking name onto your pussy so that every time he
touches you, he’ll know what I did tonight.”
I scream but he clamps his hand over my mouth. The moment he releases
my wrist, I swing it forward, whacking the side of his head. But that just
pisses him off.
“You fucking cunt! I’m gonna…”
His hand rises. I close my eyes and brace for the blow that I know is
coming. And then—
His oppressive weight disappears altogether. Relief floods through me as I
open my eyes and realize that I’m not alone anymore.
The cavalry's here.

OceanofPDF.com
 44

OceanofPDF.com
 RUSLAN

It takes all my willpower to keep my leg from bouncing up and down.

But considering I’m not the only one in this VIP room, I need to maintain
an air of confidence. I need to keep my shit together.
Which is easier said than done, considering that I can hear the way that
bastard is pawing all over my woman and it feels like there’s not a damn
thing I can do about it.
Kirill seems to believe otherwise, though, because he rounds the coffee
table and leans over my shoulder. “Just a few minutes more. She’s almost
got him right where she wants him.”
“Is that wishful thinking?” I snap. “Because it sounds like she’s terrified.”
“She’s playing the part,” Kirill says convincingly. “If we bust in there now
before he’s confessed to anything…”
Our whispering has earned some glances from a few of the other men at the
table. Including the massive, beefy president of the Rabid Wolves MC, a
motorcycle club infamous for running damn near ninety percent of the drug
traffic in the city.
“Be cool, brother,” Kirill murmurs. “We’ve almost got him.”
I focus on the tiny device sitting on the table between us, crackling with
radio static. “… you cut corners…”
I grit my teeth. This is it. I get to my feet, ignoring the fact that Kirill is still
breathing down my neck.
“Brother—”
“Give the team a heads-up. They need to be ready to go in the fucking
second I give the signal.”
“… No. Adrik. Let… me… go! P-please… don’t do this…”
“Now!” I roar as I burst out of the VIP room and charge towards the back
entrance of the club.
By the time I get out into the alleyway, two of my guys have Adrik by the
collar while Emma stands pasted to the wall with her arms wrapped around
her shivering body. I rush straight to her and gather her up in my embrace.
“You did so fucking great, baby,” I whisper to her. “You did so fucking
great.”
She looks up at me timidly, her blue eyes shrouded with a relieved sense of
disbelief. Then a tear slips down her cheek.
“Finally remembered her, hm?” Adrik screams at my back. “Because she
had forgotten you! I was just about to fuck you out of her system.”
I turn around without warning and slug him in the jaw. He recoils back, but
my guys still have a firm grip on him, so he ends up just bobbing in place.
His eyes are narrowed with anger but it’s obvious that he’s under the
influence. Even his sweat is charged with testosterone.
“She wanted me. Your fucking woman came to me.”
“Do you want me to rearrange your face, mudak?”
He snarls and thrashes in the guards’ grip. “Get them off me!”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” I saunter closer. “Not until we settle a few things. It’s
about time we put this feud to rest.”
Only then does Adrik seem to realize that this was a setup. “You sicced
your bitch on me?”
I ignore the insult. It’s much more satisfying to focus on the break in his
nose and the blood dribbling down his lips.
“Emma.” I hold out a hand to guide her forward.
She steps to my side and reveals the wireless mic that she’s been hiding in
her cleavage. She drops it in my palm and I show it to Adrik with a satisfied
smile.
“Nothing loosens the tongue like Venera,” I explain.
Adrik’s eyes go wide and hazy. “Y-you… you fucking drugged me?”
“Actually—” Emma steps forward right next to me. “—I did.”
“You… you fucking bitch!”
My fist smashes into the side of his face for the second time. He careens
back before my men haul him back to his feet once more. Now, he’s got a
split lip in addition to a broken nose. It’s only the beginning of what I will
do to him if he doesn’t bend the fucking knee.
“Say another word to her or about her and I will cut out your tongue myself.
Is that understood? You’ll rot in a jail cell and you won’t even be able to
beg for a cup of water.”
Adrik looks between us before settling on me. “You’re Bratva. Involving
the cops is not your style.”
“Oh, you think I’m taking this to the cops?” I snort. “Fuck no. I handle my
business on my own.”
Adrik’s eyebrows come together. “Then…”
“You might be interested to know that I was just listening to the feed from
this little microphone in one of the VIP rooms upstairs with all your buyers.
Not to mention your investors. You know, the ones whose money you
bartered away on Sopernik?” Adrik’s eyes bulge with horror. “And they
weren’t the only friends invited to the party. I made sure that Conrad Steel
of the Rabid Wolves was there, too.”
Beads of sweat are joining the dried blood on Adrik’s upper lip.
“The Wolves aren’t exactly known for their forgiving nature, are they?” I
continue. “In fact, they insist on exacting their pound of flesh when deals go
wrong. I’d say this certainly qualifies, wouldn’t you?”
“You fucking bastard.”
“No, I believe that’s your title. My title is pahkan,” I snarl. “And don’t you
ever fucking forget it again.”
“Y-you can’t do this to me!” Adrik croaks. “You can’t—”
I throw him a disgusted look. “I’m not ‘doing’ anything, friend. It’s already
done. I don’t even have to deal with you myself—they will do it for me.
Good luck, Adrik. You’ll need it.”
I grab Emma’s hand and walk her away from Adrik and all his pathetic,
wailing desperation. He’s roaring obscenities at my back but I block him
out and focus on my woman.
She’s clearly on edge. Her palms are sweaty and the vein on her forehead is
jumping around erratically.
“You were amazing.”
That forces her to take a breath. “Yeah? Thought I was gonna throw up
most of the night.”
“You seemed so confident.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was chicken,” she whispers. “I wanted… I
guess I wanted you to be proud of me.”
I lean in and kiss her hard on the lips. She’s tense, her shoulders still rife
with tension. She relaxes only slightly as I kiss her. Probably because she’s
as aware as I am that we have an audience.
I pull away and cup her face. “Kirill’s gonna take you home now while I
clean up this mess.”
She frowns, her hand snaking around my arm. “You’re not coming back
with me?”
“I have to handle things here. You understand, don’t you?”
She chews on her bottom lip but she nods all the same. “Okay. See you at
home.”
“And Emma?”
“Hm?”
Her eyes dart to Adrik and then back to me. “The shit he said to you…
about Jessica, about what you are to me—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts quickly. “I… I know they’re not true.”
I nod and she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek. Then
she allows herself to be led away by Kirill.
Once she’s gone, I’m immediately in a less distracted headspace. I turn to
Adrik, savoring this moment. The fucker is hissing and spiting, attempting
to get free with pathetic jerking attempts that do nothing more than
embarrass him.
“You gonna kill me?” he growls.
I shake my head. “I did consider that. Then I realized that ruining you is so
much more poetic.”
“Motherfucker—”
I step forward and the insult dies on his lips. He can pretend all he wants
but I can see the fear in his eyes. “You brought this down on your own
head, Adrik. Who the fuck told you that you were a match for me?”
His nostrils flare. Sweat and blood mingle together, creating a stench that
stinks worse than the bowels of New York City.
“This isn’t over, Ruslan.”
I palm his throat. His life’s pulse flickers against my skin. It’d be so easy to
extinguish it. “Don’t push me, Adrik. Our history is the only reason you’re
walking away from this with your life. You keep pushing me and I’ll claim
that, too. Just like I’ve claimed everything else in your life worth taking.”
“‘Our history’?” he hisses. “How dare you talk to me about our fucking
history when you don’t even know the half of it!”
I have no idea what he’s blabbering about and I’m not sure I want to know.
I click my fingers and my men start dragging him out of the alley.
“Wait! Wait! Where are you taking me? Ruslan!”
“Apparently, you’re not taking this seriously enough. So maybe a couple of
days in my cellar will put things in perspective for you.”
His eyeballs pop and spit flies from his mouth. To an extent, I sympathize—
it’s hard to rein in an ego that size.
“You can lock me up all you want!” Adrik wails. “It won’t fucking matter!
I’ll get out. You think you’re such a great fucking pakhan. Even your own
vors aren’t loyal to you.”
That stops me in my tracks. I hold up my hand and the men dragging Adrik
away stop immediately. I walk over to him, letting the force of my eyes
burn through his false bravado. “You wanna tell me what that means?”
His jaw clenches. Then it clamps shut altogether.
I snort. “Yeah, I thought so. Get him outta my sight.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe that you’re a desperate fucking coward who’s trying to sow
discord in my ranks. That’s what I believe.”
Adrik smiles and something about that smile leaves me feeling uneasy.
Before I can let the feeling take over, I turn my back on him and start to
walk away.
“How can you expect your vors to be loyal,” he hisses, “when your own
uncle is trying to dethrone you?”
I freeze.
I turn slowly on the spot.
One look at his face and I know…
He’s not bluffing.
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 RUSLAN

Vadim Oryolov.
The traitor. The spy. The rat is… Vadim?
It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Family is everything to my uncle. It’s
the reason he endured being passed over as pahkan. It’s the reason he
played the dutiful brother, the supportive uncle. It’s the reason he showed
up every day even after Fyodor had checked out.
Family is everything.
Those are his words, not mine.
Of course, Adrik could be lying. But I know that’s my denial talking. My
instincts are screaming a whole different story. They have been since the
moment Adrik blurted out the person who’s been scheming with him to
bring me down.
I had him confined to the smallest room in the cellar. It’s cold down here,
but if he is looking to me for a blanket or a sweater or a fire, he can keep
fucking looking. I’ve offered him none. Let the bastard freeze his balls off
for all I care.
I drag a chair into the cellar room and twist it around to straddle it. Adrik
looks up at me from the corner of his thin mattress. He’s got his arms
wrapped around his legs in an upright fetal position. The moment he stops
baring his teeth at me, they start chattering.
He growls furiously and sinks deeper into his corner. “What do you want to
know?”
“I want to know why.”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
Adrik looks away from me. Is this loyalty I’m seeing? I didn’t think Adrik
knew the meaning of the word. “Maybe he thought I deserve what you
have.”
“What claim do you have?”
“You’d be surprised.”
I roll my eyes. “I never pegged you for one of those annoying cryptic types,
Adrik. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Fuck off, Ruslan.”
I inch the chair closer. “Did you approach him or was it the other way
around?”
Adrik laughs bitterly. “The betrayal’s really stinging, huh, brother?”
It takes some effort to keep my hands from closing into fists. But I don’t
want this piece of shit thinking he’s getting to me. “Betrayal is an inevitable
part of this life.”
“But not from your inner circle,” he suggests, rubbing salt in the wound.
“Not from family. So much for blood being thicker than water, huh?”
I lean in, resting my elbows on my knees. “Answer the question or you’re
gonna have a lot more than just a broken nose. Who approached who?”
Adrik sighs wearily, like he’s too exhausted with this shit to even bother
lying anymore. “He came to me.”
I have no idea if he’s full of shit or not so I just keep going. “He was the
one who told you about Venera?”
He nods. “He didn’t think it would work at first. He was convinced that it
would die an early death. But then initial testing was so positive, he realized
that you’d created yourself a goldmine.”
I frown. Something about this is not making sense. Vadim would have
earned a fortune off Venera, too. I always make sure that my vors receive
generous cuts of whatever profit we make on any Bratva venture. So why
move against me? His motivation can’t have just been financial.
Which means—
“It’s personal,” I mutter to myself.
Adrik flinches. “What?”
I focus on him. “He was the one who tampered with the Venera samples the
night of the launch.”
Adrik doesn’t even have to nod. At this point, all the puzzle pieces are
coming together. Sergey’s abduction, the botched launch, inside information
leaking at every turn… Of course it had to be someone close.
So close that I couldn’t fucking see it.
I clamber out of my chair and back out of the cellar. Adrik’s eyes go wide
as he scrabbles toward me on the mattress. “How long are you gonna keep
me here?”
“You should be thanking me. You’re under my protection now. The moment
I release you, the Wolves will come after you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
I loft my brow condescendingly. “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem
like it.”
Then I slam the cellar door closed and throw the lock. The sound echoes
against the spartan cement walls. When I turn around, Kirill is standing
against the opposite pillar, eyeing me cautiously. “Everything okay?”
I glance towards the door and gesture for him to follow me upstairs. We exit
the shed that serves as the front for the cellar and all the gruesome secrets
it’s hidden over the years. I can see the bright lights lighting up the facade
of the main house, behind which Emma and the kids are sleeping.
That thought—that they’re here, that they’re safe—is the only thing that
comforts me right now.
“Adrik gave up the name of the rat.”
Kirill stops short. “Who is it?”
“Vadim.”
“Yeah, right.” He snorts and slugs me in the shoulder. “Okay, seriously, who
is it?”
I don’t crack a smile. I don’t break eye contact. I stare at Kirill and repeat
the name. “Vadim.”
Kirill’s smile dies slowly. “Y-you’re sure?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? How else could Adrik have known so much so
early? How could he have known about Venera or Sergey or Emma or any
of it? The night of the launch, it was Vadim who fucked with the samples.
He was the one working with Adrik to take me down.”
Kirill looks like his head is about to explode. I know the fucking feeling.
“But… why?” Kirill murmurs. “He’s your uncle. He’s always been loyal to
the Oryolov Bratva. And you are the Oryolov Bratva.”
“He’s always resented my position. He’s always hated that he was passed
over.”
“Still—”
“I need to go.”
Kirill races after me as I pick up speed. “Where are you going?”
“To deal with this.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Brother—” I flinch away from his touch
and he backs off with his hands raised. “I just wonder if confronting him
now is the right move.”
“What would you do?”
Kirill frowns. “I would… trap him. Reel him in. Make him talk.”
“That’s how you deal with an enemy you don’t know. This one, I do know.”
“Do you?”
He has a point. But I can’t afford to second-guess myself now.
“It’s Saturday,” I remind him. “He’ll be at Fyodor’s.”
Kirill nods uncertainly. “Should I… get a kill team together?”
I shake my head. “I want this done quietly. He may not deserve it but his
position earns him some respect. You and I can handle this ourselves.”

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 RUSLAN

The rage flooding through me feels like it has a life of its own. It still
doesn’t dissuade me from entering my father’s house with Kirill at my side.
Fyodor’s housekeeper, Bogdan, is a portly man who’s been with the family
long past his expiration date. He leads us to the garden room where Fyodor
and Vadim are sitting opposite each other in matching armchairs, smoking
cigars and drinking scotch.
“Ruslan!” Vadim blurts the moment he sees me. “This is a surprise.”
Fyodor glances up, his brow crinkling. “Has something happened?”
It’s a fair question. I’m not in the habit of stopping by for casual visits
unless there’s a damn good reason. And I’ve never crashed one of their
Saturday night meetings. It’s been a tradition since the accident, one of the
few things that Fyodor does without having to be forced.
That’s when it hits me.
This isn’t just between Vadim and me.
Once I’ve exposed his betrayal, it will affect everyone. Especially my
father.
“May we join you for a moment?” I ask with stiff formality.
The two older men exchange a glance. “Judging from the looks on your
faces,” Vadim says as his eyes skitter between me and Kirill, “this is not a
social call.”
I take the only remaining seat between the two brothers. Kirill remains
standing. “You’re right about that, Uncle.”
I flinch. It hurts to say. Uncle. It’s a title that means something. It has
weight. Responsibility. And this motherfucker has smiled at my face for
years, supported me openly day after day—and, all the while, plotted
against me.
Who knows? Maybe it started long before Adrik. Maybe Adrik was nothing
but a pawn in Vadim’s game.
“What’s going on, son?” Fyodor asks. “Is the family okay?”
“No,” I intone. “The family’s not okay.”
Fyodor recoils with concern. Even Vadim has the audacity to look worried.
It’s so damn convincing that it floors me. Even now, he keeps lying.
“Emma and the kids?” Fyodor almost chokes. “Where are they? What
happened?”
That snaps me out of it. When he said “family,” he was thinking of my new
family. “No. No, Emma and the kids are alright. This is not about them.”
Fyodor eases. Vadim, on the other hand, stiffens.
“What is it about then?”
My gaze slides pointedly to my uncle. “I have Adrik in custody.”
Now that I know what Vadim really is, I can see all the little telltale signs
that give him away. It’s a marvel I didn’t notice them before. The twitch of
his mouth, the nervous tic in his foot, the way he keeps wiping his sweaty
palms against the leg of his pants.
“You didn’t inform us that you were going to run an operation against him,”
says Vadim.
“I don’t have to inform anyone of anything,” I growl. “I am the pahkan.”
He flinches. “Yes, of course. I wasn’t disputing that—”
“No, but you are opposed to it. Aren’t you?”
The silence is prickly with tension. It feels as though I’ve just charged the
room and now, we’re all waiting for things to go boom.
It’s Fyodor who breaks the silence. “Ruslan, my son, I don’t know what’s
going on, but accusing your uncle is not—”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself, Otets? Ask him if he thinks I should be
the pahkan.”
Fyodor doesn’t hesitate. “That’s ridiculous. He has supported you
completely from the moment you donned the mantle. He has been loyal,
faithful—”
“Treacherous.”
I’ve never seen Fyodor look more afraid. Not since we buried Mother, at
least. His eyes dart between me and his brother, his hands are shaky, and his
brow is dotted with beads of perspiration.
“I will not sit here and let you run down my brother’s—”
“Brat.” Vadim doesn’t raise his voice but the way that Fyodor stops short
makes it seem like he screamed.
“What is Ruslan talking about?” my father asks desperately. “What is the
meaning of all this?”
“Tell him, Uncle,” I growl. “Tell him how you and Adrik have been
working together for fuck knows how long to bring me down.”
The silence hurts. Vadim doesn’t so much as breathe. Fyodor’s eyes go
wide but he doesn’t take them off my uncle. “Deny it, brother. Tell me what
he’s saying is wrong.”
I can appreciate the desperation on Fyodor’s face. Discovering his betrayal
has destroyed me, too, and I’m not nearly as close to Vadim as Fyodor is.
“Vadim!” Fyodor roars, raising his voice for the first time in recent
memory.
Vadim closes his eyes. “I can’t deny it,” he says softly. “I won’t.”
Fyodor’s mouth drops. His entire face sags under the weight of that
admission. He’s aging ten, twenty, thirty years in the blink of an eye.
“No… no. This can’t be true.”
“It is, Otets.”
“Why?” Isn’t that the question of the fucking day? “You, who have always,
always championed family over all else. You, who have always believed
that family is everything. You’ve been working against my son. Against
your pahkan.”
Vadim nods. An air of detached resignation clings to his sagging shoulders.
As ancient as my father looks, Vadim looks plenty old himself. He stubs out
the cigar in the ashtray and sighs. “As always, you’ve gone straight to the
point, brother. Because the truth is, he—” His eyes dart viciously toward
me. “—was never supposed to be pahkan, was he?”
Fyodor’s frown turns down at the corners. “This is about that.”
“Of course this is about that!” His tone is whip-sharp and dripping with the
resentment he’s been suppressing all these years. “Do you remember the
months after Leonid and Alina died?”
Fyodor flinches violently. “Don’t—”
“You wanted to know why. I’m telling you,” Vadim snarls. “You lost your
wife and son and you fell to pieces. A true pahkan would never have let that
destroy him. But you… you were weak. But despite that weakness, you
were the elder brother, the rightful pahkan, so I followed you. I supported
you. I made it so that no one knew how far you’d fallen or how little you
wanted to wear the crown. I led for you and gave you the credit. The reason
the Oryolov Bratva still exists today is because I saved it.” His hands are
balled into fists and his voice is trembling from the weight of his emotion.
“You knew the burden you’d placed on me even at that time. Which is why
you promised to hand over power to me. ‘You’re the real pahkan, brother.
You should lead them, not me.’ Those were your words. Or do you deny it?”
There are tears in Fyodor’s eyes now. “I do not.”
Vadim nods with grim satisfaction. “You promised to turn the reins over to
me—and then what did you do? You changed your mind and—without
warning, without so much as a conversation—you announced that your
twenty-one-year-old son would take over as pahkan.”
Fyodor’s looking down now, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. Hell, I
probably wouldn’t have any idea even if he was looking right at me.
“You’re right, brother,” Fyodor whispers. “You’re right about everything. I
did promise to make you my successor.”
Kirill is staring at me in shock. I just shake my head.
“Tell me: what changed your mind?” Vadim demands. “Why did you
choose the boy over the man? After everything I had done to take care of
you and your Bratva…”
Fyodor raises his head. There’s a wealth of emotion in his eyes and I can
only pick out some. Sadness, definitely. Anger, yes. Regret, perhaps?
“The truth?”
Vadim’s eyes teeter to mine for only a moment before he wrenches them
back to Fyodor. “Yes, the truth. It’s the least you can do for me now.”
Fyodor sighs. “At the end of the day… he is my son.”
Fuck. I’m not sure if it’s a terrible reason or the best one yet. I suppose it
depends on which side of fatherhood you’re on.
Vadim nods. “I didn’t understand then. But I suppose, now, I do.”
I frown. “Why?”
“What do I always say?” he asks.
“Family is everything.”
He nods. “Exactly. Family is everything. I have always believed that and I
always will.” A chill spreads through me as I start to put together the last
piece of the puzzle.
How can I have been so damn blind?
“You chose your son, brother,” Vadim explains to Fyodor. “And I chose
mine.”
“Adrik,” I whisper.
Kirill’s mouth is hanging open and Fyodor looks completely floored. “N-
no,” Fyodor stammers. “That’s not possible. We knew his parents. Elisa and
Gustav were friends.”
Vadim chuckles darkly. “They were your friends. I guess you could say that
I was a lot closer to Elisa than I was to Gustav.”
“Blyat’,” Fyodor croaks. “All these years… you had a son…”
“I didn’t find out myself until the boy was a teenager. Elisa told me just
before the cancer took her. Gustav had already been gone for years. The boy
had only me.”
“You should have told me.”
“Why?” Vadim scowls. “So you could turn my only son into your son’s
stooge, just like you did to me? I wanted more for him than to play second
fiddle. I didn’t want him to live in someone else’s shadow his entire life like
I have.”
Both brothers are glaring at each other now. It’s strange to see two old men,
both closer to the ends of their lives than the beginnings, with so much hate
and sorrow in their hearts.
Vadim clears his throat. “When it came down to it, you chose your son over
me. I did the same. You can’t fault me for that.”
“Actually, I can,” I spit, getting to my feet.
Vadim watches me rise. I have no idea if all that calm is coming from
confidence or if he’s simply play-acting like he has been from the
beginning.
“Are you going to kill me, nephew?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I glance at Kirill and give him a decided nod. He doesn’t stride forward the
way he normally would. This time, he’s slow and uncertain, checking the
pulse of the room as he approaches the man who betrayed us all.
“Ruslan, wait,” Fyodor protests, turning his somber eyes on me. “Let’s talk
about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. He betrayed me. He betrayed the Bratva.
When it comes down to it, he betrayed you, too.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” I snap fiercely. “There is no coming back from this.” I make sure
I look my father in the eyes when I tell him what he already knows. “There
is no saving him.”
A tear slips down Fyodor’s eye. “He is my brother…”
I clench my jaw and push away the storm of feelings roaring in the middle
of my chest. “And I am the pahkan. Kirill, take him in.”
Kirill grabs hold of Vadim’s arm and pulls him up to his feet. He disarms
him quickly, gives him one final patdown, and then leads him out of the
room. Vadim doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t struggle or fight. He simply
allows Kirill to lead him away.
I sit down in front of my father so that I’m at eye level with him. He seems
to have shrunk in the last few minutes. Fear rips through me. The last time I
saw him look this broken was when he first got the news about Mother and
Leonid. And if Vadim isn’t here to hold him together now… what will
happen?
“He’s been a good brother,” he whispers in a broken, quiet voice.
“If you’re asking me to spare him—”
“I’m not asking that.” He takes a deep breath. “I… I don’t know what I’m
asking.” He lifts his gaze to mine. Every new line on his face seems to spell
regret. “I should have seen this coming.”
“He played his part well.”
“It can’t have all been a lie.”
“In my experience, it’s all or nothing.”
His jaw trembles and tears start streaming down his cheeks. All the life I
saw in him in the days after I introduced him to Emma and the kids seems
to sag out of him. I rest my hand on his shoulder, trying to draw him out of
the dark hole he’s slipping into.
“For now, he’ll be imprisoned. But I will make sure he’s comfortable,” I
promise.
“It’s your decision,” he says reluctantly. “As you said, you are the pahkan.”
“This betrayal has hurt me, too, father.”
He shrugs my hand away. “Leave me now.”
I get to my feet, wondering if leaving him alone right now is the right thing
to do. The only person who can give me advice is the one man I can’t trust
anymore.
I leave my father’s house but once I’m in my car, I can’t bring myself to
drive back home. If I go home, Emma will be waiting for me, expecting an
explanation. How can I give her one when I don’t have the answers myself?
Fyodor and Vadim have always been close. Through the worst of times,
they stuck it out together. It was a relationship I hadn’t thought twice about
until after I’d lost Leonid. Then I’d watched both brothers with a distinct
pang of envy.
That was the kind of love I understood. It was the kind of love I could get
on board with.
But now? If it was all a lie… what did any of it mean?
When my car phone starts ringing, I nearly jerk out of my seat. I press
accept and Kirill’s voice comes in. “He’s been situated in a cell across from
Adrik. I made sure he was comfortable.”
I’ve never once questioned Kirill’s loyalty. Even tonight, he did everything
I asked of him. And yet I find myself wondering if there will come a time
when Kirill feels the need to act independently. Will there ever be a day,
perhaps when he grows disillusioned with my leadership, when he would
decide to forge his own path and set mine on fire?
“Ruslan? You there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Man… I’m sorry. Just go home, okay? Be with Emma. I’m sure you’ll feel
better in the morning.”
But the words sound insane to my ear. Go home? Feel better? This is not
the kind of feeling you can just sleep off. Drink away—maybe.
“I can’t go home,” I rasp. “I need… a distraction. I need a fucking drink.”

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 RUSLAN

It takes a lot of alcohol before my feelings check out for the night. But once
the numbness kicks in, it’s easier to stop counting the drinks and just knock
them back without reservation.
It’s past three in the morning but I have no intention of going home yet.
Partly because I don’t want to face reality. And partly because I have no
desire for Emma to see me like this.
Kirill’s been drinking most of the night, too, but not nearly as much as me.
I’m pretty sure he’s been throwing the drinks over his shoulder for the last
hour when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s been watching me when he
thinks I’m not looking, too, though he keeps denying it. Motherfucker
thinks that just because I’m drunk, I don’t notice shit.
I notice everything. I just don’t feel anything anymore.
And honestly?
It’s fucking heaven.
One of the Alcaraz waitresses approaches with another tray of drinks. She’s
brunette and pretty, fit, curvy. A year ago, she would have been just my
type.
But there’s no such thing as a “type” for me anymore. There is only one. A
blue-eyed kiska with my baby in her womb.
“Can I get you anything?” the brunette asks me. “Another drink?”
“I think he’s had enough,” Kirill interjects.
“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough and I haven’t fucking had enough. You
—” I glare at the brunette who flinches under my gaze. “—how long have
you been working for me?”
She doesn’t flinch at that one, so clearly, she knows exactly who I am.
“Three months, sir.”
“Hm. Keep the drinks coming. If not, you’re fired.”
She gulps and scurries away and Kirill turns to me with a weary sigh on his
lips. “Listen, man, I know you’re going through a crisis here—”
“Not in the mood, Kirill.”
“—But you have a family to get home to.”
For some reason, the reminder pisses me off. Family. What a fucking word.
I come from a broken one. A dead, dying, broken-to-shit family. And he
thinks that I can just leave that all behind and start fresh with a new one?
Like I won’t bring that poison right along with me?
Hell no. I’m not good enough for them. Not for Emma and not for those
kids. I’d only ruin them.
Case in point: didn’t I promise Josh that I would never be like his father?
And yet here I am, dealing with my problems by getting shitfaced.
Just like fucking Ben.
“Listen, we can leave now,” Kirill suggests. “Get you about a gallon of
water. Put you to bed. You can sleep away the hangover and be good as new
tomorrow.”
“You need to stop talking.”
He backs off reluctantly and I sit there and chug my way through another
tray of drinks before I finally start to hit my limit.
And by “limit,” I mean I’ve drank so much that I’ve crossed the line from
blissfully numb to painfully aware of things that aren’t even here in the
room with me. Questions demanding answers.
Is anything real?
Can you ever really know a person?
And if you can’t, then how can you trust them?

I don’t really remember getting back to the estate. One moment, I’m in the
club; the next, I’m surrounded by familiarity. Paintings I picked out.
Carpets I had flown in.
And Emma’s face, staring up at me, looking slightly bewildered, definitely
worried.
“Ruslan?”
“He’s drunk, Em.” Kirill’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance. Is he
far behind me? Or is he just talking softly? My head is throbbing so hard
that I don’t bother finding out.
“Let’s just get him to bed. He’ll explain later.”
Those beautiful blue eyes connect with mine. Everything gets a little
clearer, a little brighter. I feel her warmth wrap around me as she gives me
her shoulder to lean on and twists me towards our bedroom.
“Are you okay?”
No.
“I don’t wanna talk.”
She flinches beneath me. “Ruslan, I’m worried—”
I tear away from her and put some distance between us. She’s worried about
me? Fuck that. I’m not a damn charity case. I’m Ruslan fucking Oryolov
and no one has ever needed to worry about me.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I growl derisively. “I’m a grown man.
I can take care of myself.”
Something flashes across her eyes. Something that looks a lot like anger.
“Really? Because Kirill practically carried you into the house. The sun’s
about to rise, Ruslan. Were you out all night drinking?”
I scowl at her. “I’m a grown man. I’ll stay out all night doing whatever the
fuck I want.”
I’m aware that my voice is getting louder, but somehow, I can’t seem to
control it. Emma’s eyes are wide. She’s looking at me as though she can
barely recognize me.
That look really gets under my fucking skin.
You don’t deserve her.
You don’t fucking deserve any of this.
“No,” she says softly. “No, you don’t get to do whatever the fuck you want
anymore, Ruslan. You have responsibilities now. You have to think of more
than just yourself.”
“You realize that, in order to be a nagging wife, I have to ask you to marry
me first, right?”
I hear her shocked gasp and that’s when I silently repeat the words I’ve just
thrown at her. Blyat’. Did I just say that? I feel like a puppet. Like someone
else is using my voice without my consent.
I close my eyes. Open them again. She’s still there, staring at me like I’ve
grown a second head. “I didn’t mean… Listen, my head is throbbing. I need
to… lie down…”
She speaks so softly that I almost don’t hear her over the sound of my
migraine. “I don’t like this version of you.”
Yeah? That makes two of us.
“Ruslan, I can see you’re in pain.”
She should be running from me. She should want nothing to do with me. So
why is she still here, trying to take care of me?
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.”
She tries to touch me but I flinch from her. “Go back to bed, Emma.”
“Come with me.”
“I need to be by myself.”
“What you need is—”
“What the hell makes you think you know what I need?” I demand,
practically spitting at her. “I’m the fucking pahkan. I’m the fucking boss.
Who the hell are you?”
She grits her teeth, her blue eyes flashing. “I am your partner. I’m the
mother of your children.”
“I’ve got news for you: ‘partner’ is still not ‘wife.’ And only one of those
kids is mine.”
Three distinctive little gasps follow my words. I freeze on the spot, my eyes
veering towards the open door down the corridor, where three pairs of wide
eyes are staring at me with obvious hurt.
What the fuck have I done?
Why the fuck did I say what I said?
Josh grabs the girls and reels them back into the room. The slam of the door
feels painful. It hits me right in the chest—right where my fucking heart
ought to be.
I force myself to turn back to her. She shakes her head at me, but she
doesn’t say a word. It feels like a test. And not one I can pass.
So instead, I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
“I can fix this. I just… I can’t go in like this.” I look down at myself and
feel a wave of disgust. “I can’t talk to them in this state.”
She still doesn’t speak. I can’t meet her eyes anymore. The last few minutes
have eaten away the alcohol in my bloodstream. And everything is starting
to hurt again.
“I’m sorry…” I mumble.
I don’t even sound sincere. I sound like a miserable drunk.
And perhaps it’s that realization that has me spinning around, turning
towards the staircase. I should stay and deal with the consequences of my
words, my actions. But instead, I run.
Like a man who’s so afraid of getting hurt that he decides to be the first to
cause it.

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 EMMA

“Josh, sweetheart, you need to eat something.”

His eyes rise to mine but it’s like he’s looking through me, not at me. “I’m
not hungry.”
“You didn’t eat anything all day yesterday,” I say, pushing some toast
towards him. “Just one piece. For me. Please?”
He blinks and turns away from the toast. “I’m going outside.”
“Josh, honey—”
He’s gone before I can think of more hollow words of comfort to throw at
him. Honestly, it’s worse than watching the girls. At least they cried it out
yesterday. But Josh?
He’s gone practically catatonic on me.
I contemplated calling Dr. Alicia in for an emergency session. The only
reason I didn’t is because Josh stopped me before I could even start dialing.
He put his hand on my arm and shook his head from side to side without
even saying a word. And because I didn’t want to add to his anxiety, I
listened.
I wonder if that was the right choice.
I glance over at the girls. They were quiet after they finished crying
yesterday and apparently, that isn’t gonna change this morning. Both of
them are picking at their cornflakes with muted disinterest.
“Rae, Caro—finish your cereal, guys. You love Frosted Flakes.”
Reagan scrunches up her nose and lets go of her spoon. It plops forlornly
into the pool of milk. “I want to go outside, too.”
Sighing, I nod. I’d let them get away with murder right now if that’s what it
takes to make them feel even one percent better. Reagan trots off after Josh
but Caroline stays in her seat, watching as her siblings wander over to the
fountain framed through the window.
“Do you wanna join them, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head silently. I had a talk with them yesterday. I made
excuses for Ruslan. I told them he didn’t mean what he said. That he was
tired, and under pressure, and that he wasn’t himself when he said it. I told
them that once he cleared his head, he would come and talk to them. He
would apologize.
He would stop being such a total fucking asshole.
That last part was more of a silent addition that I’d tacked on in my head. It
was definitely implied, though.
“Auntie Em?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Caroline turns her bright eyes on me. I’m not used to seeing her so somber.
It makes me shiver all the way down to the bone. “Why hasn’t he come to
see us yet?”
“I… I’m sure—” I stop short the moment I realize that I’m not sure.
Truthfully, I have no idea what Ruslan will do. And I have no idea when
he’ll do it. I saw a different man in his eyes when he said those horrible
things and it scared me to my core.
“I don’t know, my love. I wish I did.”
Her face crumples up and she pushes away her bowl of cereal. “I’m not
hungry, either. May I be excused?”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Of course.”
She scurries off, but not towards the gardens like I expect. She heads
upstairs to her bedroom. I leave the breakfast nook and storm towards
Ruslan’s office.
Break my heart—fine.
Break theirs?
Un. Fucking. Forgivable.
The office door looms large at the end of the hallway. He’s been hiding out
there since he came back home hammered out of his mind. I’ve pegged him
for a lot of things, but never a coward.
What the hell happened? I want to scream. Explain yourself!
But I also find myself thinking, does it even matter? Life is hard. People are
awful. Shit’s gonna happen. He doesn’t get to lash out at me and the kids
every time something goes wrong for him. It’s not fair.
It’s not exactly a conscious decision but suddenly, I find myself turning
away from Ruslan’s office and picking up my cell phone to call someone
else instead.
It’s a quick conversation, but I get what I want immediately. As soon as I
hang up, I race upstairs and start packing. I only bring the essentials—
Sienna’s music box goes in first, of course—for myself and Josh. When I go
into the girls’ room to prepare bags for each of them, I find Caroline lying
on the bed with her face buried in a pillow.
“Sweetheart?” I whisper. She lifts her head reluctantly. “What would you
say to leaving the estate for a bit?”
She lifts her eyebrows and nods slowly. “Okay…”
I offer her the strongest smile I can. It’s not much, but it’s something.
“Good. Go get your brother and sister.”
“Emma?”
Dammit!
I gesture for the kids to get in the car before I turn to face Kirill. His eyes
are fixed on the large duffel bag slung off my shoulder.
“Where’d you come from?”
“I was in the shed… just getting a few things organized. Are you going
somewhere?”
“For at least a few days—yes.”
“Does Ruslan know?”
I grit my teeth. “No, and he doesn’t need to. Not that he would care either
way.”
Kirill’s eyebrows slope downward. “Em, I don’t know what happened
between the two of you after I left but—”
“He told me and the children that we weren’t important to him. Among
other things. And he’s right, in theory. I’m not his wife and Josh, Caroline
and Reagan aren’t his children.”
Kirill’s eyes go wide. “Bullshit. He didn’t say that.”
“He did. And I have three little witnesses,” I snap, glancing back at the car.
All three of their faces are pressed up against the window, watching
carefully.
“Goddammit, Ruslan,” Kirill mutters to himself. He shakes his head and
looks up at me. “So the two of you didn’t talk? He didn’t tell you what
happened?”
“He was more interested in pushing me away. And guess what? It worked.
Feel free to congratulate him on a job well done next time you see him.”
“Listen, Emma, shit went down the night we took Adrik in. Ruslan found
out some stuff that really fucked with his head.”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “And if he’d just been honest with me, I
would have understood, no matter what it was. Hell, even after he said what
he said, I would have forgiven him—if he’d only asked for it. The kids
would have, too. But it’s been almost two days and all we’ve gotten from
him is radio silence. Which means that everything he said, he meant.”
“I know for a fact he didn’t.”
I shrug. “Then why hasn’t he said so, hm? Why hasn’t he tried to make it
right? Why has he disappeared on me and the kids when we need him the
most?”
Kirill’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. I nod grimly, feeling the
weight of the last day settle over me. “I’m done making excuses for him,
Kirill. Especially to the kids. They don’t deserve this. They already had one
nightmare of a dad; they don’t need another one. I’ll be damned if I let
Ruslan hurt them like Ben did.”
Kirill grabs my arm when I try to turn away. “Ruslan’s not Ben, Emma. You
know that.”
“I used to. Then he proved me wrong.”
“He’s going through something…”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. We’re all going through something, Kirill.
All of us. But the answer is not to shut out all the people that care about
you. That’s a pretty good way to lose them.”
“Just let me get him—”
“Don’t,” I say fiercely. “He’s made it very clear: we’re not important to
him. Let’s just leave it at that. Those kids have been through enough.”
His face falls but he doesn’t stop me from getting into the car. He just
stands there miserably while we drive away. The kids watch as the house
gets smaller and smaller before it finally disappears in the distance.
I hate that they have to say goodbye to another home.
“It’s gonna be okay, guys,” I tell them. “I promise.”
But I have no right to promise them anything.
I’m just as lost as they are.

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 RUSLAN

Forty-eight hours have passed. The alcohol and the hangover have both had
their way with me. But the guilt…
That shit lingers.
I’ve never had to explain myself before. I’ve never had to apologize. But
she deserves that much at the very least. They all do.
Except when I walk into our bedroom to do it, the air feels strange. The
room looks different, too. It takes me a long, stupefied moment to realize
that Emma’s slippers are no longer by the foot of the bed. Her favorite
bathrobe is gone. All her books. All her clothes.
Dread rips through me as I turn towards the mantelpiece in search of the
music box.
It’s gone.
I rush into the kids’ room and it’s the same story there. I can still see the
indents of Reagan’s feet on the carpet. They’re gone—that much is
undeniable. But who took them? Where? When? It’s not like she has a place
to—
I twist around when Kirill walks in. One look at his face and I know
something’s up.
“Tell me what you know,” I order. “Where the fuck are they?”
“They went back to the penthouse,” he admits. “They left about an hour
ago.”
“Why the hell didn’t you stop them? Or call me?”
He fixes me with a glare that I’m not used to having aimed at me. “Is it true
what you said to them?”
That guilt leaps up in my throat to strangle me from within. “I was drunk,
Kirill. And stupid. And an asshole.” I sigh deeply. “I didn’t realize the kids
were listening.”
“Why would you even say shit like that to any of them?” he demands.
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
He shakes his head sadly. “You love Emma and you love those kids. So
why are you sabotaging your own happy ending?”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I just don’t even bother trying.
Kirill looks both crushed for me and disgusted with me at the same time.
“You should have begged for her forgiveness a lot sooner than this.”
“I know that,” I rasp, chin falling to my chest.
“So why didn’t you?”
My hand is balled into a fist. Even though my anger is aimed at Kirill, I
know that he’s not the one I want to punch. I’d need a mirror for that.
“Because… I know the damage I’ve done. And I didn’t want to face it.”
“Burying your head in the sand isn’t going to do shit, brother. It’s only
gonna make everything worse.”
I nod and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“Where do you think? I’m gonna go get my family back.” I stop abruptly at
the threshold and turn to Kirill. “Oh—and as for Adrik, you can release
him.”
Kirill’s eyes pop open with shock. “Say that again?”
“I’m not gonna kill him. But I’m not gonna protect him anymore, either. He
can fuck off wherever he wants—sooner or later, the Rabid Wolves will
find him. Word is, they’ve already started looking.”

The guard behind the security desk gives me a tight frown. “The security
code was changed forty minutes ago, sir. But I can call up to the penthouse
and request access for you.”
I nod. “Do it.”
Request forgiveness while you’re at it.
He dials in the connection number and hands me the phone. Then he has the
good sense to fuck off while I put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
It’s Caroline. My heart is beating fast. Is this what real nerves feel like?
Because it’s goddamn awful. “Hey Caro, it’s me. Ruslan.”
For a moment, I think she hung up on me. But then I hear the sound of her
breathing.
“Caroline, malyshka, can you let me in?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then: “No.”
“Caroline—
“You were mean,” she says emphatically. “If you didn’t want to be our dad,
then you should have just said.”
I’m torn between laughing and falling to fucking pieces. Raked over the
coals by a child—I deserve nothing less.
“You’re right. But we can’t talk about this through the phone. Can you
please put your aunt on? I need to talk to you guys in person, face to—”
I hear the phone change hands, but the voice on the other side is not
Emma’s.
“I’m mad at you.” It’s Reagan now. Even the little one is pissed off and as
much as it hurts me that I’ve hurt her, I’m also proud that she’s speaking up
about it.
“You have every right to be.”
Her little voice quivers. “You made us all cry.”
I must have a heart after all, I think to myself. Because I’m pretty sure it’s
breaking right now.
“Rae, please let me explain. I never meant to hurt any of you—”
“Then why did you?”
Except I’m not speaking to Reagan anymore. The phone has changed hands
once again while I was speaking. Now, the voice is slightly lower, slightly
deeper, but still just as pained.
“Josh.”
It took so long to earn his trust. We spent months forging a bond that I
managed to screw up in a matter of seconds.
“You lied to me.” His voice feels suddenly so much more mature. It feels
like I’m talking to a teenager. A man in the making. “You lied to all of us.
You told me you would never be like my dad. You promised me.”
Crack, crack, crack, go the last pieces of my heart.
“Can you please let me up there so we can talk about this?”
“No.”
“Josh—”
There’s noise on the other side and I have a feeling the phone’s changing
hands again. It’s like a revolving door of consequences.
“Ruslan.”
I exhale. “Emma, can we talk?”
“You really hurt them, Ruslan.”
“I know. I know I hurt you, too. Just let me up there so that I can explain
what happened.”
“Why didn’t you just explain back then?” she whispers. “I was right there,
asking—begging—to carry half the burden.”
“I know. I’m just… I’m not used to that.”
“So you pushed me away. Again.”
I wince. “I… yes. That’s what I did.”
“I’m too old for this, Ruslan. Come to think of it, so are you. I think I’ve
proved that I’m in this for the long haul. I just don’t think you are. And
that’s a problem because it’s not just me. It’s about my kids, too.”
“I was in a bad headspace yesterday—”
“How?” she demands. “We got Adrik. That’s what you wanted, right? We
got Adrik and you didn’t have to kill him. The plan worked.”
“It worked. You did so good. But things happened after you left. I was—I
am—trying to keep you safe from it all.”
“Maybe you should look into a way to keep me safe from you. Because
that’s the wound that hurts the most right now.”
I glance up to find the security guard staring at me with open curiosity. He
glances away the moment we make eye contact.
“Please, Emma.” I sigh. “Just let me up.”
Her breath whistles out, low and mournful. “I know that you probably think
you have a good reason for what you said, what you did. But the fact is, no
matter what the reason, those kids will never be able to unhear those words.
I need to think of them now. I need to think of our future.”
“Emma—”
She ignores me. “You and me, we’ve been in this sort of blissful in-between
lately. You told me you wanted to be with me and I was happy to go along
with whatever that meant because it felt so good to be with you. But the
truth is, you don’t think of me as your partner. You think of me as an
ornament. An accessory. An incubator. And like you reminded me
yesterday, none of those things translate to wife.”
I squeeze the phone and lean in like it’ll help her hear me better. “I was so
drunk, Emma. You can’t take what I said seriously.”
“Adrik said pretty much the same thing, Ruslan. And I chose not to believe
him. But then, when you said what you said—”
“You don’t have to be married to me to be important to me, Emma.”
“Then why do I need to be married to you in order to ask questions or
demand explanations? I can’t have expectations of you without a ring on
my finger? I can’t rely on you?”
She sighs and I can hear the fatigue in her voice. She’s pregnant; she’s
supposed to be keeping her blood pressure low. And here I am, messing it
up for her already.
Ruining my baby’s life before the child is even born.
“How am I supposed to believe all the things you’ve said to me and the kids
before now? I can’t, Ruslan. And I can’t afford to expose the kids to another
father figure who doesn’t really want to be their father.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Say something, you dumb, mute bastard. Fix it. Fucking FIX IT.
“So for now, I’m gonna stay here with the kids. I need some space. And
they need to heal. Please listen to that. Please respect it.”
How can I respect it when it goes against my very nature? She’s pulling
away from me, threatening to take the kids with her, and she expects me to
give her fucking time? Fucking space?
The caveman in me is beating his fists against his chest with rage. This is
not happening.
But then I replay Reagan’s sad little voice in my head. I hear Caroline and
Josh’s devastated words. This is not about me.
This is about them.
The more I push, the more resistance I’ll get in return. Some battles are
fought in silence. Fyodor used to say that often to Leonid and me.
“Okay,” I agree at last. “I’ll respect it.”
“Thank you.”
The line goes dead. It feels like I’m swimming against the tide. The harder I
swim, the stronger the currents become. It’s my own damn fault. I’m the
one who’s stoked those currents. I’m the one who took a lighter to my own
life.
But I’m determined to make it right. I have no clue how. But I know one
thing—I’m coming back for Emma and the kids.
I’m coming back for what’s mine and nothing will stop me.
Not even them.

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 EMMA

Seven days.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen or spoken to Ruslan.
And, God help me… I miss him.
The kids do, too. They’ve been moping around the penthouse for the last
week. Not even the gifts that come daily seem to cheer them up. They’re all
smart enough to know when they’re being bribed.
Every time we get another delivery, I want to scream. As thoughtful as his
gifts are, they’re also insulting. Does he really think he can buy our
forgiveness? He should have showed up every single freaking day until we
relented and let him up here.
I know that’s not what I asked him for. I asked him for space and that’s
what he’s giving me. But isn’t he smart enough to know the difference
between what I say and what I want?
Honestly.
Men.
“Caroline, how’s the reading going?”
“Fine,” she mumbles unenthusiastically.
Their new school encourages the kids to do half an hour of reading every
day. Since they don’t have a big lawn to run around in anymore, I’ve
designated the evenings for reading time. We all pick a different book,
gather in the living room with a bunch of snacks, and read together.
It started off as a flimsy attempt to give the kids a distraction as well as a
sense of togetherness. But it’s worked out surprisingly well. Although I’m
pretty sure Josh spends more time in his own head than in his book.
“J? What about you?”
He puts his book down and shrugs. Then he looks out the window as though
he’d rather be anywhere else.
Sighing, I give up on my own book, too. He’s had three therapy sessions
this week and it’s only Thursday. I’m actually thinking of calling Alicia in
for another session on Saturday if his mood doesn’t pick up soon.
I have half a mind to hide the gifts that Ruslan sends over. Maybe they’re
the cause of Josh’s perpetually bad mood.
The one thing none of us can resist is the fresh food that Ruslan has
delivered to the apartment every evening. Now that I’m officially out of my
first trimester and my morning sickness has passed, my appetite is
annoyingly healthy. It’s almost six, which means there should be a delivery
coming at any moment.
“You hungry?” I ask Josh hopefully.
“No.”
I glance at the girls. “What about you two?”
“No,” says Reagan, with a sly glance at Josh as if we won’t notice that she’s
just saying what he’s saying. Then she adds, “… but I hope we get pasta
tonight.”
How easily kids fall into new routines. It would have been amusing if the
whole situation weren’t so freaking sad.
“Josh, honey, we need to talk.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Tough. It’s happening.”
He does a double-take in my direction at the sudden tone shift. I’ve been
really gentle with all of them this past week. It’s not working. Time for a
new plan.
I set my book down on my lap and lean forward. “I know this is hard,
kiddos, and I know you’re hurting, but it’s time to get your game face on.
We can’t be sad forever.”
The girls rush towards me. Reagan gets on my lap and Caroline snuggles
into my side. “Joshie misses Ruslan,” Caroline explains.
“Do not.”
Caroline pulls back. “You don’t miss him?” she asks innocently. “Not even
a little?”
Josh glances at me self-consciously and my heart twists into a painful knot.
“I miss him, honey, and I don’t think I should be ashamed to admit that.
Neither should you.”
Josh crosses his hands over his chest. “He doesn’t care about us, so why
should we care about him?”
“He does care about us,” Reagan insists, pointing at all the unboxed gifts in
the corner of the living room. “He sent all those to us!”
Josh grunts. “That doesn’t count.”
Reagan looks confused. She’s still young enough to believe that presents
are the ultimate gesture of love. I kiss the top of her head and remember a
time when Josh was that young and naïve, too.
“Do you think that maybe we should give him a chance to explain?” I
suggest.
Reagan nods immediately. “I think so.”
Caroline takes a little longer but in the end she nods as well. “Only if he
promises to be nice to everyone,” she tacks on.
I turn my gaze on Josh. “What about you?”
He looks between all three of us, chewing on his bottom lip the entire time.
“I… don’t know.”
“You don’t have to decide right now, bud. Take your time. Think about it.
This is a family decision.”
“Auntie Em?” Reagan’s looking up at me from my lap. These are the
moments when I realize how fast she’s growing. How much longer will she
fit there? “I really miss him.”
I have to bite my tongue to keep the tears at bay. “I know you do.”
“He just has to say he’s sorry. If he says he’s sorry, then it’ll all be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” snarls Josh. “Saying you’re sorry doesn’t change anything.”
I put my hand on Josh’s leg and squeeze his ankle gently. “Sweetheart,
everyone makes mistakes. Everyone says stuff they don’t mean.”
He flinches. “What if he did mean it?”
I take a breath. I’m not sure why I’m sitting here, trying to defend him. I’m
hurting, too, just like them. I’m uncertain, too, just like them.
“We’ll never know unless we give him the chance to take responsibility for
his actions.”
Josh sighs. “I’ll think about it.”
That night, while the kids are eating dinner, I check my phone hoping for a
message. But there’s nothing. Just his standard gifts and a bunch of food. I
let myself get hopeful enough to expect more. I’d expected him to show up
here every day demanding to be let up, vowing to win us back come hell or
high water. I’d expected him to show up at the school just so that he could
see the kids. I’d expected him to call me every night whether or not I
answered.
He’ll fight for himself and for his Bratva. Why won’t he fight for us?
Honestly.
Men.

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 EMMA

I glance back over my shoulder at the two beefy bodyguards who have been
shadowing me and the kids since the day after we’d moved back into the
building.
Ruslan’s orders, no doubt. Part of me wants to be touched by it.
But somehow, it still comes off as impersonal. Detached. Why the hell
doesn’t he show up once in a while?
Be careful what you wish for.
I haven’t made a fuss because honestly, it’s not that much of a hindrance. I
don’t go out much unless it’s to pick and drop the kids off at school. And
honestly, all four guys who’ve been put on locked-and-loaded babysitting
duty are nice.
The team splits at the beginning of the day. Two of the guards, Lazar and
Shura, stay behind on school property to watch out for the kids. The
remaining two, Zakhar and Gedeon, drive back with me.
The last bell rings just as Boris parks the car. I make towards the middle
school entrance first, knowing that Josh will find me. I notice Reagan
running down the steps a few minutes later but… no Caroline.
And no Lazar, either.
“Hey, honey, how was school?”
Reagan’s never very chatty about school after the day’s done. She just
shrugs her shoulders. “Good.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“I dunno. She wasn’t at lunch.”
My heart starts to pound harder in my chest and a drop of cold sweat
trickles down my spine.
“Aunt Em!” Josh runs up to me with Shura following behind him.
“Where’s Lazar?” Shura asks. His scowl shifts as he pulls out his phone and
starts typing furiously.
Zakhar and Gedeon exchange a glance. “We’ll do a quick look around,”
Gedeon says with a reassuring nod.
But there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that I can’t ignore. Keep your shit
together. Josh and Reagan are watching.
“Reagan, honey, can you remember if you saw Caroline on the playground
at recess?”
“Oh, yeah,” she nods. “She was on the jungle gym. But then she said she
was gonna go climb trees.”
“Trees?” I ask. “What trees?”
Reagan is beginning to look nervous. She bites her bottom lip and looks
around. “I… I don’t know… Those ones over there, I think.”
She points to a line of trees behind the school. They’re still technically
growing within school grounds but they’re far from any of the buildings.
Even the playground.
“Don’t worry,” Shura says, moving a little closer to me. “Lazar will be with
her. Stay here with the kids, okay? I’m gonna go check the grounds.”
I manage to wait a few minutes before my fear starts drowning out my
sense of reason. “Josh, Reagan, go inside and stay there, okay? I’ll be right
back.”
Then I start running towards the line of trees, hoping to God that Caroline
will pop up behind one of them.
Please, please, please.
But the feeling burgeoning in my chest isn’t in the least bit encouraging.
Every time I’ve felt this kind of heaviness, it’s been accompanied by very
real problems.
The time Josh was taken.
Running into Remmy at that club.
Seeing my parents at that fancy restaurant.
“Caroline!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “Caro—”
And that’s when I see something through the trees. Except it’s nothing
good. The wired chain-link fence that rings the outer perimeter of the
school has been torn apart, leaving a gaping hole large enough for a grown
man to walk through.
“No,” I gasp, rushing forward. “No, no, no, no…”
There’s no way this was an accident.
“Caroline!” I scream again.
A couple of birds rustle out of the overhead branches and I whip around.
Something catches my eye. My gaze lands on the shape and I gasp. I also
take a startled step back.
And that’s how I end up on my ass in the leaves, staring at the lifeless body
that used to belong to Lazar.
I choke on my own saliva as I fumble to retrieve my phone from the front
pocket of my jeans. My vision is blurring fast behind my tears but I still
manage to find his number. The call drops before it even connects.
I try again. “Come on, Kirill…”
But this time I get only an automated voice message. “The person you are
trying to contact is not in reach.”
“Dammit!” I scream.
But despite my frustration, I have the foresight to enable my live location
and send it to Kirill. I’m not entirely sure why I do it. It just makes me feel
better to know that he can find me as long as I have my phone on me.
Especially because I’m pretty sure I’m going to jump right through that
hole and start hunting for Caroline myself.
“Aunt Emma?”
I jerk to my feet the moment I hear Josh’s voice. I turn to the side and
realize that Reagan is with him, too.
“I told you two to stay inside the school!”
“But—”
“No buts! It’s not safe! Go back—”
Before I can finish my sentence, I notice Josh’s eyes go wide. He opens his
mouth, but before he can say anything, something envelopes me. The world
goes dark. Strong, muscular arms grip me from behind and the more I
struggle, the harder I get manhandled.
I’m aware that, somewhere close, Reagan and Josh are struggling just as
hard as I am. No, I want to scream, don’t hurt them! Just take me instead.
But I can’t find my voice. I feel weak. Tired. Strangely removed.
My last coherent thought is—
I wish Ruslan was here.

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 RUSLAN

“What do you mean, ‘they’re not home yet’?”

The security guard twitches every single time I look directly at him. “Ms.
Carson left a few hours ago to pick the kids up from school, sir. She hasn’t
been back since then.”
“What time does she usually come back home?”
“The pickup never takes longer than an hour. She’s always back at 1:30 at
the latest.”
My jaw clenches. Something’s not right. “I’m going up.”
The guard frowns. “What about the access code, sir? You need it to enter
the unit.”
I glance at the tag on his chest. “It’s my penthouse, Ken. I have an override
code that I use for emergencies and as far as I’m concerned, this qualifies.”
I glare at him. “Do you intend to stop me?”
He swallows and doesn’t say a word.
“I didn’t fucking think so.”
Sure enough, he doesn’t make any attempt to stop me as I head towards the
elevator where I stamp in the override code. When the elevator doors whisk
again, I find myself standing in the entrance foyer, surrounded by an eerie
quiet that confirms that Emma and the kids are not home.
I wander through the space, noticing the takeout containers in the trash and
the pile of gifts pushed to one corner. All the gifts that I’ve sent to the girls
have been opened. All the gifts I’ve sent to Josh and Emma are still
wrapped tight.
My gut twists uncomfortably.
I take a lap around the apartment, but it doesn’t look like Emma’s tried to
skip town again. All her things are strewn about her room and the whole
place still smells like her. I check the room for her music box, just to make
doubly sure. I find it sitting on the dressing table in her bathroom. When I
touch the button, the lid flips up and a tiny silver ballerina starts pirouetting
as a mournful song rings out.
They say that a crowded room can be the loneliest place in the world.
I’m learning now that a silent room with a sad song playing is the quietest
place in the world.
But it does mean she hasn’t tried to run out on me. That’s good.
The relief is short-lived, though. Where is she? I have no texts back from
her. None from the team assigned to her, either. The last update I got was
from Lazar telling me everything was under control. But that was at ten this
morning. Clearly, that is no longer the case.
My stomach keeps on churning. I call Shura but the call goes straight to
voicemail. Gedeon’s line rings and rings but he doesn’t pick up. Zakhar’s
does the same.
Something is definitely not right.
I rush out of the penthouse and phone Kirill on my way down. I’m not sure
if it’s the elevator or Kirill’s phone but the call drops almost instantly.
More churning. It’s painful now. I feel as though I’m going to burst a blood
vessel. I explode back into the lobby, causing Ken to step back in alarm
when I blaze past. The takeout food I brought for Emma and the kids is still
sitting on his counter.
“Keep the food,” I snarl at him as I leave.
I’m almost at my car when my phone starts to ring. I’m hoping it’s one of
the bodyguards but instead, it’s Kirill.
“Sorry, man, I was in the cellar dealing with Vadim. You know there’s no
reception down there. He’s—”
“I don’t give two fucks about Vadim right now. Emma and the kids are
missing.”
“What?”
“The security detail I put on them is not picking up, either.”
I hear him breathing and tapping on his phone. “Wait. Hold up… I think I
got a message from Emma earlier. I didn’t really look at it because I wanted
to return your call first.”
“What does it say?” I demand impatiently.
“Uh… ah, here it is. Fuck.” He sucks in a sharp inhale. “She sent me her
live location… over an hour ago. I didn’t get it until just now when I left the
cellar. According to this, she’s still at the school.” His voice dips a little and
I know he’s worried, too. “Or at least, her phone is.”
“I’m heading over there now.”
I’m driving over to Chilton like a madman when my phone starts to ring
again. I transfer it to the car’s speaker phone and hit accept.
“Boss.”
“Zakhar, what the fuck? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“There’s been an incident, sir.”
“Where are Emma and the kids?”
“I… they… um…”
“Spit it out, Zakhar.”
He clears his throat. “We lost them, boss. The school has cordoned off the
area.”
What does he mean, they ‘lost’ them? And why does the school need to
‘cordon off’ anything? Isn’t that just for crime scenes and dead bodies?
Fuck.
“I’m almost there.”
Then I hang up and step on the accelerator. There’s a throng of people at the
school gates when I approach. Most of them are wearing uniforms and
protective vests.
Cops.
I breeze past the police manning the perimeter when I see my men clustered
next to the school building. “What the fuck happened?” I growl as I storm
up. “Where are Emma and the kids?”
Gedeon, Zakhar, and Shura exchange cautious glances. “It appears that
they’ve been taken,” Shura admits. He gestures over to the side where I can
see a gaping hole in the chainlink fence that marks the outer perimeter of
the school grounds.
“Why are the cops involved?”
“Because a teacher stumbled across the body. She called them in.”
“‘Body’?” That’s when it hits me: there are three men in front of me instead
of four. “Lazar?”
Gedeon nods. “He was shadowing Caroline when she decided to climb trees
during recess. But someone accosted them—”
“Someone was watching them the whole time,” I growl through gritted
teeth. “When do we estimate they took Caroline?”
“A few hours before they took Emma and the other two kids, but they were
lying in wait for the others,” Zakhar explains. “At least that’s what we
suspect. Emma showed up a couple of hours ago with Gedeon and Shura in
tow. That’s when we realized that Caroline and Lazar were a no-show.”
Gedeon points to the outer boundaries of the school. “We were doing a
search of the grounds. We told Emma and the kids to stay put until we came
back.”
Of course she didn’t stay put. She went looking for Caroline.
“We believe she and the other two kids were taken from the same spot
where Caroline was taken.”
“Oh, and boss?”
I turn to Zakhar, who hands me a phone with a regretful grimace. I stare
down at the lockscreen that lights up when it changes hands. It’s a photo of
all three kids, smiling back at the camera.
Emma’s phone.
“Blyat’,” I spit, twisting around. “The three of you stay here and clean up
this mess. Recover Lazar’s body and make sure the cops stay out of our
business. Say whatever you have to fucking say.”
None of them dare to say anything else. I storm back to my car and dial
Kirill.
“Did you find them?” he asks as soon as he answers.
“I found Emma’s phone.”
“Fucking hell… so—”
“They’ve been taken. I severely underestimated Adrik.”
“You think it was Adrik?”
“Who the fuck else could it be?” I demand. “I didn’t think he was insane
enough to try this shit, but he was released a week ago now. He’s had time.”
“But he doesn’t have the resources.”
“That we know of.”
“Should I go back down to the cellar and beat some answers out of Vadim?”
“First—we call an emergency meeting. Second—I’ll deal with Vadim.
Third—I get my family back.”
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 EMMA

The van has no windows in the back, which means it’s near pitch black in
here. But I can make out three little silhouettes and, if nothing else, that
comforts me.
Caroline jumped on me the moment I’d been thrown into the van. All three
kids scrambled around me as we’d grappled with the black cloth bags over
our heads until we finally managed to rip them off.
“They did that to me, too,” Caroline told us in a small, terrified voice.
We’ve been driving for what seems like a long time. Or maybe that’s just
the fear and adrenaline talking, stretching time into weird shapes. Reagan
and Caroline’s heads are both tucked into my lap while Josh sits next to me
with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs.
“Auntie Em, I’m scared,” Reagan squeaks softly.
Her eyes are so wide as they turn up at me that the whites of her eyes seem
to shine. Her chin is trembling hard and all I can do is stroke her hair.
“I’m gonna protect you, okay?” I assure her. “I’m gonna protect all of you.”
“How?” Caroline asks. “You’re trapped here, too.”
She has a point.
“We need to figure out a way to call Ruslan.” Josh’s eyes meet mine. The
longer we stay in the darkness, the clearer things become. “He’ll come for
us.”
Tears prick unexpectedly at my eyes. Those four little words prove that,
despite all his hurt, he still has faith in Ruslan. Deep down, he knows that
Ruslan cares about us, even if he doesn’t always show it.
Our bodies teeter to one side as the van takes a sharp bend. I can hear
muffled murmurs from the front of the van but we’re separated from it by a
thick black partition.
As far as I know, Ruslan has Adrik in his custody. So… who the hell are
these guys? And what do they want with us?
Are we slowing down?
“Kids, listen to me carefully, okay?” All three of them perk up with
alertness. The girls lift their heads from my lap. “You stay in the corner of
this van and be as still as possible. The moment you get the opportunity,
you run. Do you hear me?”
All three kids look terrified. Hell, I’m sure I do, too. But it’s all we’ve got.
“Run where?” Reagan asks, chewing on her bottom lip. “I won’t know
where I’m going.”
“Find an adult and ask them if you can make a call to your dad,” I instruct
them, thinking on my feet. “Then call Ruslan. All three of you know his
number by heart, right?”
“I don’t!” Reagan says in a panicky voice. “Auntie Em, I don’t!”
Josh grabs her hand. “I know it. Repeat after me.”
He starts repeating Ruslan’s number slowly, enunciating each digit. He
repeats the number three times and then has Reagan say it again after him.
Oh, God, we’re definitely slowing down.
By the time the van comes to a stop, Reagan has the number memorized. At
least, I hope so. I nod to the kids and they push themselves into the corners
of the van as the engine dies. I can’t hear much from the outside, but I do
hear the sound of the driver’s door open and then shut. The other door does
the same.
I’m hoping that we’re dealing with only two men. Somehow, I doubt we’ll
be that lucky.
“Auntie Em,” Reagan says from her corner. Her voice is trembling
violently. “I’m still scared.”
My heart splits. “I know, sweetheart. But I promise you, I’m gonna keep
you safe.”
Josh reaches for his sister’s hand. “Me, too.”
Thud. Click. The door handle mechanism springs open. Reagan gasps and
scurries backwards. Caroline slaps her hands over her face and Josh’s fists
tighten as the double doors to the van are flung open. I hold my breath,
ready to face our captor, ready to attack. But—
“Ben?!”

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 EMMA

The shock of seeing my brother-in-law freezes me in place. So much for the

fight I was planning on putting up. I’m dumbfounded.
He has the audacity to smile cheerfully at the kids. “Hey, guys. Missed
me?”
He actually has the balls to say that out loud.
“You motherf—”
But before I can finish the expletive, something flies past me, knocking me
off-balance. It takes a second for me to register that the little cannonball that
blazed past was none other than Josh.
He hurls himself on Ben and the two of them kick up a cloud of dust as they
collapse in the dirt. Reagan and Caroline scream, rushing around me in
panic.
“Josh!” I cry.
But he’s not listening. He’s too busy beating the shit out of his father. He’s
unloading punch after punch in his dad’s face, and despite the size
difference, it’s all one-way traffic. Every punch is devastating and efficient.
“What the… Stop!… Fucking hell… J-Josh… stop!” Ben splutters from
between his raised arms.
But Josh doesn’t stop. He doesn’t look like he’s anywhere close to stopping.
And I’m not super inclined to stop him myself. Not until I see how terrified
the girls are right now.
“Josh, honey… stop.”
I leap out of the van while the girls hover on the edge of it. The whole time,
their brother keeps pummeling the shit out of Ben. Blood and sweat mingle
with the dirt beneath them. The sweat is Josh’s. The blood is his father’s.
And then I notice a figure approach from my peripheral vision. I jerk
backward when I look up and recognize his face.
“Adrik?!”
He grabs hold of Josh and drags him off Ben. Josh roars when he’s pulled
off his father but Adrik just throws him onto the dirt and pulls out a gun.
Everyone freezes.
“That’s enough,” he says quietly.
He stands just over Ben’s face. Ben looks like shit, covered in muddy,
bloody grime. Adrik looks down at him in disgust.
“Beaten by a child. Pathetic.”
“You know what’s even more pathetic?” I snarl. “Kidnapping your own
kids and terrifying the shit out of them.”
I back up so that I’m shielding both girls. But Josh is entirely too exposed
for my liking. I keep trying to make eye contact with him but his gaze is
firmly fixed on his father.
Ben sits up and scowls at me. “You left me no choice.”
“Actually, you were given a choice. Many of them. You just chose wrong.”
“As much as I hate to break up all the family drama here,” Adrik drawls,
“this is getting boring.”
I stare at the man in horror. “How are you even free?”
“You don’t know?” Immediately, I bite my tongue. Why the hell did I even
open my mouth in the first place? “Oh, poor thing. He didn’t tell you.”
That old, familiar uncertainty gnaws at my stomach. “What do you want,
Adrik?” I stammer out, trying to keep my voice from breaking.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he growls. “I want revenge. We both do.”
My eyes snap to Ben’s. “First, Remmy, and now, Adrik? What is wrong
with you? What happened to you, Ben. Were you always a worthless
bastard or did that happen after Sienna died?”
I’m so angry that I’m not minding my words. They fly out of my mouth,
oblivious to the three children who are watching and listening to
everything.
Adrik scoffs. “Judging from the last five minutes alone, the first one is
probably the most accurate.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.”
He tries to hide his scowl behind a smile. “You’re tired. Let’s get you all
inside, shall we?”
“Inside” turns out to be an old house that’s clearly been left to its own
devices for too long. There are rotting boards nailed over the windows and
a layer of dust that clings to its façade like a second skin. Vines and ivy are
reaching their fingers into the house through every nook and hole and
cranny.
Adrik gestures with the gun. “Off we go. Hurry up. You first.”
“Stop pointing the gun at my kid!” I yell when the pistol lingers carelessly
on Josh. “If you hurt a single hair on any of their heads—”
“Our dad will get you!” Reagan practically yells.
“Yeah,” Caroline adds with her teeth bared. “He’ll kill you.”
Ben looks extremely confused. Josh seems to notice the same thing because
he scowls in Ben’s direction. “They’re not talking about you. They’re
talking about Ruslan.”
Ben’s eyes go wide with disbelief. Then his mouth turns down in anger.
“Ruslan is not your fucking father.”
“He’s ten times the man you are,” I spit. “Why wouldn’t he be ten times the
father?”
Ben shoves himself to his feet and Josh quickly follows, taking up a
defensive position, ready to throw himself between me and Ben if he needs
to. It’s all freaking wrong. I should be the one protecting him. Not the other
way around.
“Listen, you bitch—”
“That’s enough!” Adrik’s voice cuts through Ben’s anger. “Get them inside
and shut the fuck up, Ben.”
Ben flinches and throws Adrik a surreptitious glare. I’m getting the feeling
that Ben might just be scared of the man he’s chosen to ally with. Maybe a
part of him is already regretting the decision.
I hope so, at least.
“Do I have to repeat myself?” Adrik demands, waving his gun in the air.
Ben stumbles forward and gestures for us to follow him into the house. He
doesn’t make another attempt to talk to me or the kids. It would be the
perfect opportunity to run. The two of them wouldn’t be able to catch all
four of us, right?
But the problem is that Adrik is armed.
And he looks just desperate enough to shoot.
The man is a mess, inside and out. His hair is dirty and disheveled. His
clothes are ragged and bloodstained and a pungent smell clings to his skin
like a disease. Worst of all, though, is the manic gleam in his eyes. That icy
control he once had is gone. I suspect Ruslan has something to do with its
disappearance.
Adrik makes eye contact with me. He pulls back his lips to reveal his teeth
—or what remains of them after whatever the hell Ruslan did to him. There
are bloody stumps of gum where his canines used to be. “Don’t you go
getting any ideas. I will raise my gun—and it won’t be at you.” His gaze
veers to the girls at my back.
“You are fucking scum!” I raise my arm and Josh inches towards me. “It’s
just a matter of time before Ruslan comes for us, and then everything he did
to you already will feel like a nice massage compared to what he’ll do
next.”
“Yeah?” he glowers at me. “He can certainly try. Now, get the fuck inside.”
And because he’s got the gun and I’ve got three children, I do the only thing
I can do.
Listen.

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 RUSLAN

We’re down only one man and yet it already feels like a much smaller
group. Mikael, Arkady, and Nikolai don’t address our missing vor, which is
how I know that Fyodor has already informed them of the betrayal.
“I opted for mercy,” I start without giving them any context. “I opted for
leniency. And he decided to spit in my face.”
Fyodor’s eyes go wide. “Who are you—?”
“I released Adrik a week ago. He repaid me by hunting down my family
and taking them. Now, it’s time to end this.”
Nikolai clicks his tongue, a surefire sign that he approves. “This dance with
Adrik has gone on long enough. It’s about time.”
“I agree,” Mikael says with a curt nod.
Arkady inclines his head towards me. “As do I. We are with you.”
Fyodor clears his throat. “Then you should know all the facts. I told you
about my brother’s betrayal and I told you he was working with Adrik this
whole time. What I didn’t tell you is why they decided to ally with one
another.”
Kirill takes his seat heavily. “Does it matter, Fyodor?”
“It does to me.” His voice is raspy, his eyes cold. He doesn’t look at me
when he drops the bomb. “Adrik is Vadim’s son.”
Nikolai is in denial. Arkady is in shock. Mikael is the only one who nods. “I
fucking knew it.”
“How?” Kirill asks with one raised eyebrow.
He shrugs. “I used to watch them together at parties and clubs. They
seemed to get along really well, until someone showed up. It always felt
like their friction was a setup for the benefit of others.”
“Glad you waited ‘til now to mention it,” Kirill snaps.
Mikael simply leans back in his seat. “I had no proof. And I wasn’t about to
accuse a senior vor of keeping a secret like that.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Fyodor growls. “The past is immaterial. What
matters is the decision we have to make now.”
I turn to my father squarely and look him in the eye. “There is no decision
that we have to make. It’s my decision, Otets, and I’ve decided that enough
is enough.”
“Ruslan, think about this. He is your cousin.”
“And he’s known that a lot longer than I have. He still abducted my family
—my woman, my kids. That will not go unanswered.”
“Then lock him up. Keep him confined to a cell for as long as you want.
But killing him—” He stops mid-sentence and glances around the room. It’s
as though he’s just realized that he’s not the boss anymore.
“Give us the room,” I order.
My vors exchange pointed glances as they follow Kirill out of my office. I
walk around the table and sit down beside my father. His eyes look hollow,
a man so wracked with grief that he can’t even bring himself to sit up
straight.
“This is not about Adrik at all, is it?” I rumble.
Fyodor gazes out the windows. “Killing Vadim’s only son… Ruslan, there
will be no coming back from that.”
“Tell me honestly, Otets: do you see Vadim coming back from any of this?”
Fyodor flinches and closes his eyes. “He is the reason the Oryolov Bratva
survived in the first place.”
“It was his duty to make sure it would,” I say. “I’m not trying to belittle
what he did and I’m not trying to play down his sacrifices. He took care of
you, of us, after the accident. He saved the Bratva. But that doesn’t give
him the right to burn it down as and when he pleases.”
Fyodor sighs mournfully. His breath sounds raggedy in his thin old man’s
chest.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I know you still care for him. And I know
you feel the need to save him—”
“He is my family.”
“No,” I say, leaning in closer, “I am your family. Emma, Josh, Reagan,
Caroline—they are your family. You may not be a husband or a brother
anymore but you are still a father. Leonid’s death didn’t change that. And
you are a grandfather now, too.”
His eyes brighten infinitesimally but the light goes out almost instantly. “He
wasn’t just my brother, Ruslan,” he says softly. “He was also my only
friend.”
“I gave him a chance, Otets. These events have proved that Adrik is not
capable of allowing us to live in peace. He wants revenge and he won’t stop
until he gets it. Which means—”
“I know.” He turns his sad eyes on me. “I know.”
I get to my feet. “Forgive me, Father. My hands are tied.”
He looks up at me. There’s a question in his eyes but he refuses to ask it.
Instead, he nods and I turn and leave him to the lonely room. I hate to have
to do this—but it’s the only way.
Kirill, Nikolai, Mikael, and Arkady are sitting in the main living room when
I walk past. The four of them rise to their feet, waiting on my instructions.
“We need a team. We’re going after Adrik today.”
Kirill frowns. “What do you mean? We don’t know where he is.”
“We will. I just have to talk to my uncle first.”
I leave them to make the arrangements while I head towards the cell block.
I dismiss the two guards standing outside Vadim’s cell, then open the door
and step inside.
He’s sitting on his bed with a book in hand, his back resting against the
cement wall. “Nephew, what a delightful surprise. What brings you here?”
“Your son.”
Vadim’s eyebrows rise but his eye is twitching tentatively. He’s had years of
practice, keeping his fear hidden. But I see it now. His fingers never sit still.
They keep moving, moving, moving.
“What have you done to him?”
“I released him.”
“What?” He shoves himself upright. “When?”
“A week ago.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Why do you think?” I spit at him. “Family is everything. It may be your
motto but it’s ingrained itself in my head all these years. Family means
something to me, too, Uncle. Even now.”
Vadim is sweating from the forehead despite how cold it is down here. I
ignore that. I will not allow myself to feel sorry for him—not now.
“I gave him a chance. I gave him his life. I gave him his freedom. And what
did he do with it?” Vadim’s jaw starts twitching now, too. “He took my
wife. He took my kids!”
It crosses my mind that she’s not my wife. Not yet.
It also crosses my mind that, as soon as I have them back, I’m putting a ring
on Emma’s finger, dressing her in white, then taking her to bed until the
whole world hears her swear she’s mine.
I push the thoughts away and all the prickly nerves that come with them. “I
extended an olive branch when I let him go—and he spat it back in my
face.”
Vadim’s usually watery eyes are clear as day right now. Maybe that’s why
the fear in them becomes more and more prominent. “He’s acting foolishly
because he knows you have me. He’s—”
“He’s throwing a tantrum is what he’s doing,” I interrupt. “And I’m not
about to tolerate that.”
I’ve never seen Vadim look so weak. The man has always exuded strength,
power. Even as he got older and he started to age visibly, the iron in his
veins stood strong.
The difference now is that he has something to lose.
And he knows it.
“Ruslan, I’ve never asked you for anything…”
“You picked a bad moment to start asking for favors, Uncle,” I snarl.
“He’s my son… my only child. What would you do in my place… if it was
Josh?”
I grit my teeth. “You have some balls asking me that question.”
Vadim snorts angrily and continues. “How old is the boy—nine? Ten? You
have no idea the kind of man he’ll become. I used to think Adrik was an
introvert. I used to think of him as easily bendable, easily manipulated. But
he’s got a mind of his own and I couldn’t always rein him in.”
“Did you even try?”
He nods slowly. “I’ll admit, there were things he did that… I regret.” He
winces as he speaks, which makes me curious.
What is it that Adrik’s done that Vadim regretted?
No—it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know. Not anymore. Their fates are
sealed.
“But the thing is, no matter what your children do, no matter what they
become—trust me, it won’t matter. You will always try to protect them.
Always.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “It’s obvious we both love our families. So I
propose we make a trade.”
Vadim leans closer in desperation, those bushy eyebrows of his rising. I feel
something twist in my gut but I ignore it. I have to.
“What trade?”
“You must know where Adrik has taken them. Even the house that Adrik
was keeping Sergey in—that was your house, wasn’t it? That’s why we
couldn’t find out who owned it. You didn’t want it linked back to you.”
Vadim coughs and I take that as confirmation. “So I’m guessing you know
exactly where Adrik is. Which means you know exactly where my family
is. All you have to do is give me that information and I’ll spare his life.”
Vadim’s lips purse up. His jaw is clenched tight and his eyelid is still
twitching. “You’ll really let him live?”
“He will be banished from the country, of course,” I say. “But as long as
you’re alive, I promise not to kill him.”
Vadim flinches. His eyes meet mine and he holds the stare. He’s trying to
find the lie in my face. I don’t let him see anything but what he’s hoping to
see.
In the end, he nods and his chin droops to his chest. “There is a place on
Henderson Street, in Uniondale. A house with ivy growing through the
windows. You’ll see it. You’ll know.”
I nod and drift back towards the door. I stop at the threshold as my heart
rate races up. Am I really going to do this?
“Do you have any real love for my father?” I’m not sure why I ask this
question now. Probably because I know it’s my last chance to ask him
anything.
Vadim drags his weary eyes up to mine. I wonder if he knows what’s
coming. “He is my older brother. Of course I love him. But love can walk
hand in hand with hate sometimes. There’s a fine line.” He shifts
uncomfortably on the spot, his eyes darting over my face. “Ruslan,” he
whispers, “you promised.”
I nod. “I promised not to kill Adrik as long as you were alive. And I will
keep that promise.”
He is still my father’s brother. He is still my uncle.
Which is why I wait until he looks away before I raise the gun and shoot. It
happens so fast that he doesn’t see it coming. He slumps against the wall,
his eyes closing instantly.
I don’t need to check his pulse.
I know he’s gone.

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 EMMA

It took some effort but the girls are finally asleep. Reagan is honk-shoo-
honk-shoo-mimimi-ing away and Caroline’s eyes are fluttering softly.
They’re crammed in together on the dirty old mattress despite the fact that
the bed is quite big. Old, yes; rotten, yes—but big. How nice of our captors.
Josh, on the other hand…
He’s sitting by the window, having tried for the first hour to break it open.
Turns out those wooden boards are nailed in tight. The last fading remnants
of light are slanting in through the little gaps between the planks.
I drape the girl’s school sweaters over them as blankets and when I’m
satisfied they’re not gonna wake up, I inch over to Josh. He makes space for
me on the table he’s sitting on. I climb aboard and hike my legs up.
“Your boxing has gotten really good.”
One corner of his mouth twitches up. “I need to practice more.”
“You’re already amazing. You had Ben on the ground, Josh.”
That gets a brief smile out of him before it disappears and he shrugs self-
consciously. “Only because I took him by surprise.”
I shake my head and pat his knee. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a lot
braver, smarter, and stronger than you think you are. You just need to
believe it.”
He nods. “Ruslan tells me the same thing.”
“Does he now?”
I can sense the conflict raging inside his little head. Can almost feel it, like
pre-storm pressure in the air. His eyes keep darting to my face and then
away again. I know he’s scared but he’s desperately trying to hide it. Mostly
because he’s trying to take care of me and the girls.
“We’re going to be okay,” I whisper to him.
He arches an eyebrow in a way that’s so eerily similar to how Ruslan does
that I shiver. “How?” he asks.
“I don’t know how,” I admit. “I just know. Your mom used to tell me to
manifest what I wanted and it would come. Do you know what ‘manifest’
means?”
He shakes his head.
“It means to visualize something and wish for it as hard as you can and it’ll
come sooner or later. Matter of fact, she liked to say she manifested you.”
I smile fondly at the memory. Thinking about Sienna these past few months
hasn’t hurt me as much as it once did. The ache won’t ever fully leave, I
don’t think, but it’s no longer quite as sharp around the edges.
Josh smiles. “I wish I remembered her more.”
“Oh, honey, if you only knew how much all three of you remind me of her.
Your compassion and kindness—that’s all Sienna. Reagan’s feistiness,
Caroline’s creativity—it all comes from your mother. She’s always with
you, even when you don’t know it.”
I raise my arm and Josh leans into my shoulder. I try not to make a big deal
out of it, but he never lets me hold him like this anymore. “I heard you talk
to Ruslan,” he mumbles softly. “Are you really not gonna be with him
because of what he said?”
I gulp. Isn’t that a doozy of a question?
“The first few days, I genuinely considered it,” I admit. “But I also don’t
know what happened that night to make him so…”
“Sad?”
“Right. Sad. I owe it to him to hear his side of the story first. And even
then…” I glance down at Josh. “I know he loves you guys. He was just in a
bad place that day. Sometimes, people say stuff they don’t mean because
they’re afraid of what might happen if they were completely honest.”
Josh frowns. “That’s confusing.”
I laugh. “For you and me both, bud.” I tousle his hair and kiss the top of his
head. “How about you try to get some sleep?”
“No. You sleep and I’ll stay up and keep watch.”
“Josh, sweetheart, you’re tired.”
“I’m not.”
I purse my lips. “That’s another trait you get from your mama—
stubbornness.”
He snorts a laugh. “Okay, I guess you can take the first watch. But I’ll take
the second.”
“Deal.”
Barely five minutes later, he’s on the bed next to his sisters, dead asleep. It
gives me some relief to see them all together like that, even if I have no
earthly idea how to get us out of this situation.
My phone had been wrestled away from me back on school grounds, so my
live location isn’t about to help Kirill or Ruslan find us. Which means I’m
gonna have to use my imagination to get us outta here.
I stand in the middle of the room and turn on the spot. Come on, Emma,
think like an action star. Manifest your way to freedom.
Then I hear the lock turn in the door. I freeze, dreading the sight of Adrik
again. But when the door opens, I’m faced with…
Ben.
Which is not a whole lot better.
“You,” I snarl softly.
To my surprise, he walks in and shuts the door. “Don’t try to rush the door
or anything. Adrik’s got men posted outside it.”
I scowl at him. “You really think I’d try to escape without the kids?”
There’s a beautiful purple bruise on the left side of his face and he’s
sporting a colorful split lip, too. Honestly, Josh deserves a standing ovation
for that performance earlier. A few more minutes and he would’ve made
mincemeat of the rest of Ben’s sneer.
Apparently, Ben is thinking along the same lines, because he glances at all
three of them in the bed. “Where the fuck did he learn to fight like that?”
“Where do you think?”
He walks over to the boarded window and sits on the same table that Josh
was using as a window seat. “They replaced me pretty damn fast.”
“What did you expect, Ben?” I want to say so much more but self-
preservation keeps my tongue in check.
For now.
But I need to play this smart. I don’t have my phone on me. I don’t have a
gun, either. Which means Ben is my only way out. I walk over to the table
and lean against it, as far from him as possible.
“How do you even know Adrik?”
He flinches like the name stings him. “I don’t. Er, I mean, I didn’t. He
approached me a few days ago. Said that I could get revenge on Ruslan for
everything he’s done. Said that he would protect me from him.”
“How did he know about you in the first place?”
“He was working with that reporter, Remmy. Which is how he knew about
our deal. And when he couldn’t find Remmy, he decided to find me
instead.”
I suppress the gag reflex that any mention of Remmy inspires and stay
focused on the moment. “And how much money did he offer you?”
“None.” Ben offers me a shifty glance. “He told me I could get my kids
back.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t do this for the kids. How much money did he offer
you, Ben?” My voice is getting a little stronger, a little louder.
He grimaces and mumbles something unintelligible.
“I didn’t hear that.”
“Ten grand,” he croaks. “He offered me ten grand.”
I shake my head in disgust. “Good to know you can be bought so cheap. For
God’s sake—these are your kids, Ben. That motherfucker was out there
waving a gun in their faces and threatening their lives. And you delivered
them straight to him. How can you be so surprised that they’ve replaced
you with the only man who’s ever tried to protect them?”
“Listen, I didn’t know the bastard was gonna get so… so fucking scary
once I agreed to everything,” Ben stammers. “I didn’t exactly know what
his plan was.”
“But you agreed to it anyway?”
“I was upset!”
It takes all my self-control not to wring his freaking neck. But there’s a little
voice in the back of my head that’s saying, Use him. You can kill him later.
“Ben, you can still make this right. You can still try to redeem yourself in
your children’s eyes.”
He swivels toward me in alarm. “Are you insane? He would literally
fuckin’ gut me.”
I grit my teeth. “Maybe that’s the risk you’ll have to take to make sure your
kids are gonna be alright.”
“I’m not going up against that psychopath out there. He’s got a gun. And
he’s got armed men everywhere.” He clears his throat miserably. “I’m just
one man.”
“One man… who knows this house. Who knows where we are. Maybe you
can just—”
“I’m not getting involved, Emma.”
“I’ve got news for you, Ben: you already are involved.” I push myself off
the table and spin around to face him. “And here’s another reality check for
you: if Adrik doesn’t kill you, Ruslan definitely fucking will.”
“So I’m dead either way?”
“You made your own bed.”
His eyes glaze over for a moment. I’d like to think it’s reality hitting him at
last, but this is Ben we’re talking about. Who the hell knows what’s going
on in that self-absorbed mind of his? I’m certainly not gonna waste my time
trying to decipher him. I’ve long since stopped trying to hope he’ll change.
“Just fucking go, Ben. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as those
children.”
He doesn’t argue. Just leaves the room without a word. Fuck you, I want to
scream, but the words are lodged in my throat, weighed down by fear.
That was our last option walking out the door.
What am I going to do now?

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 RUSLAN

I don’t waste any time. We don’t even brake the caravan as we approach.
“Faster,” I bark into the radio linking me to the rest of the units fanning out
across the road. “I don’t want to give this mudak a single breath to
contemplate what’s about to happen to him.”
The explosives team leads the way, lobbing bombs around the perimeter to
take out any circulating patrols.
Shit goes boom. The world shakes.
No points will be awarded for subtlety today.
As soon as we’re in range, the full might of the Oryolov Bratva comes
pouring out of vehicles with me at the front. Kirill is at my side the entire
time. Mikael, Arkady, and Nikolai fan out alongside me, each taking a
contingent of men with them.
We’ve got the house surrounded in no time. Adrik has men, but they’re
nowhere near enough to stop the shitstorm I’ve brought with me. Every
motherfucker who sticks so much as a toe out gets mowed down instantly.
For a few chaotic minutes, bullets scythe through the air, screaming as they
bring death down on the heads of the bastards who took my family.
Then the deluge dies down. Only a few sporadic reports of gunfire here and
there as Adrik’s men retreat up the stairs. That means Adrik is up there.
And where Adrik is…
That’s where I’ll find my family.
I aim carefully, taking out two of the men on the staircase. Seeing their
comrades die seems to send a message to the remaining fighters.
They’re next.
“We’ll stand down!” one screams. “We’ll stand down. Just don’t shoot.”
To show me he means it, he drops his gun and puts his hands in the air. The
three other men beside him on the staircase seem skeptical as they watch
him descend the staircase.
“I surrender,” he repeats.
“Good. Then I’ll spare your life.” I turn to the remaining three men on the
staircase. “What about you three?”
There’s a moment of hesitation before two of the three men drop their
weapons and come down behind the first. Maybe this will be easier than I
thought it would be.
I glare at the last man standing. “Are you prepared to die for your leader?”
He rises to his feet, his eyes looking over the three men who just
surrendered their weapons. Don’t say it, you stupid mudak. Don’t you say—
“I’m no fuckin’ coward.”
He raises his gun fast. But I’m faster. I shoot him right in the face and he
stumbles back, painting the wall with his blood.
“No, but you are a fucking idiot.” I turn to the remaining three men. “And
as for you, I appreciate your cooperation. But I learned a long time ago:
never accept a surrender that’s been given after the battle is lost.”
I don’t have to raise my gun this time. From behind them, Mikael, Kirill,
and Arkady take aim and shoot the poor bastards in the backs of their heads.
In unison, all three collapse at my feet and I glower at their bodies with
disgust.
“My uncle taught me that,” I add quietly.
I don’t have long to admire the blood of my enemies before a terrified little
girl’s scream sends panic surging in my veins.
Reagan.
I bound up the staircase three steps at a time. One last cluster of Adrik’s
men stands at the ready outside the final room at the end of the corridor. I
don’t bother breaking stride—I just mow them all down with ruthless
efficiency. Truth be told, they were dead long before I arrived.
They just didn’t know it yet.
I leap over the pile of still-warm bodies. It takes only one strong kick to
send the door they were guarding flying off its hinges. I hear a collection of
gasps and screams but it’s all music to my ears.
Emma. Reagan. Caroline. Josh.
They’re all here, crowded behind the mattress flipped on its side.
But someone else is in here, too.
Adrik is standing in the middle of the room, his face twisted with a scowl.
He makes a show of waving his gun in the air.
“Cut the shit, Adrik,” I snarl. “It’s over. You’ve got nothing left. No men,
no resources. And no more Daddy to bail you out.”
Adrik’s eyes narrow. “You killed him.”
“No, you killed him. By pulling this shit. Put down the gun and be
sensible.”
“Sensible?” he repeats furiously. “Sensible?! Being ‘sensible’ is what
forced my father into a life of servitude.”
My eyes roll with contempt. “He lived in a seven-bedroom penthouse in
New York City. He ate caviar for breakfast and traveled in a private jet all
around the world. If it was a life of servitude he had, most men alive would
slaughter everyone they know for just one day of it.”
Adrik is unconvinced. “He should have been the pahkan.”
“What you’re saying is that you want to be pahkan.”
He turns his weapon to the side, pointing it at Emma and the kids. I freeze
immediately. They all do. Reagan is buried under Emma’s arm while
Caroline is hiding behind her back. Josh is the only one who’s not ducking
behind the bed, despite Emma’s best efforts to pull him down beside her.
Adrik shakes his head. “You always did think you were better than me.”
“Prove me wrong then,” I say. “Stop waving a gun at children. Fight me
like a man and take what you think you deserve.”
Glowering fiercely at me, Adrik slowly lowers his weapon. Someone calls
my name, one of the girls, but I don’t dare take my eyes off Adrik for a
second.
“Emma,” I say without glancing at her, “cover the girls’ eyes.”
I hear her whispering to them. Soft, urgent words that I can’t make out.
Adrik’s gaze stays fixed on me. “How did you kill him?” he asks as we start
to slowly circle each other.
“Bullet to the head. He didn’t see it coming. I made sure of that.”
“How merciful of you,” Adrik snarls sarcastically. “I always told him that
you’d turn on him the first chance you got.”
“Then you don’t know a thing about me.”
“I know that you’re an entitled—”
I don’t allow him to finish the sentence. I lunge closer and punch him right
in the face, sending him keeling back towards the window.
His rage doesn’t hinder him like I expect. In fact, it makes him faster, more
determined. He charges toward me, unloading a barrage of jabs and hooks,
one of which catches me cleanly on the jaw.
Suddenly, I’m a boy again. I’m with Leonid in the gym. Move your head.
Anticipate. Feel the air move before the punch comes.
That lesson ended with me eating punch after punch from him. So did the
next lesson, and the next, and the one after that. But slowly, I learned how
to move. Leonid didn’t go easy on me, but that was a gift in and of itself.
Our enemies won’t go easy on you, little brother. Why would I?
I catch sight of Josh over Adrik’s shoulder. His eyes are huge, his jaw
clenched brutally tight. I want more than anything to keep them safe. To
show him what it is to be a man, the same way my brother taught me the
meaning of it. I want them to know I will protect them.
But the distraction gives Adrik just enough of an opening to slam a fist into
my gut. When I double over with a grunt of pain, he throws a knee into my
chin hard enough to make me see stars.
I spit blood and a broken tooth on the floor as Adrik retreats a step or two
so he can laugh at my agony. “I’m better than you, Ruslan Oryolov. I’ve
always been and I’ve gonna prove that right fucking now.”
He sends a brutal kick my way but I sidestep it and hurl a punch at his
stomach. It’s not a perfect blow, but it’s enough to stagger him, and when he
goes stumbling backward, his foot catches a loose floorboard and plants
him on his ass.
“Keep talking, Makarov. You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole.” I
tower over him, blood streaming down my chin and chest. “Let’s face it:
this is where you really belong. At my fucking feet.”
Adrik sneers up at me, a kernel of fear flashing across his eyes. “You don’t
know what I’m capable of.”
He’s trying to sidle out from underneath my shadow but I raise my foot and
pin it down on his chest. “You got something to say? Then say it.”
He bares his teeth as I put more of my weight on his chest. “Your brother
was alive after the car skidded into that lamppost. He was bleeding from the
head but he was alive.”
My body goes cold. “How… how do you know that?”
“Because I was driving the car that crashed into them.”
My head feels like it’s about to explode. My body is tingling with disbelief
and rage. Adrenaline pumps through me, hot and venomous.
Adrik shoves himself upward, taking advantage of my shock. He knocks
my leg off him and comes at me hard, with a dead man’s fury.
He was counting on my distraction—which he got. But in his desperation,
he hadn’t accounted for my rage. It explodes out of me, catching him
between its fangs. I slam my forehead into his face until his eyeballs roll
back in his skull. He punches and swings elbows, and more than one of
those strikes catches me, until my face is a waterfall of blood.
None of it matters.
I still pin him to the wall by his throat.
“Say it again, motherfucker,” I rasp. “Say that bullshit one more time and
see what happens.”
But I can tell by the look in his eyes that it’s true. And maybe I knew it in
my bones long before I knew it in my head. Of course this is how it
happened. The sick threads of my life coming together in a vicious knot.
Vadim had taken care of everything after Mom and Leonid’s deaths. He
must’ve known he would’ve been the one to do that, too. So he forced it to
happen all by himself. He thought he could play puppet master and make
my father and me dance to his tune. He sent his son out to kill my family—
to kill me, too, if only I’d been in the car the way I was supposed to—and
he thought he’d come along and scoop up the pieces for himself.
“You’re getting it, aren’t you?” Adrik laughs manically. “I can tell. I can
smell it on you. I killed your whore of a mother and your bastard of a
brother. And you know what? I don’t regret it. I watched the car burst into
flames and that was the moment when I realized what I was capable of.”
“Emma,” I growl, voice breaking with rage, “get the kids out of here.”
I hear the scurrying of feet as Emma herds them out of the room. The
moment the door closes, I tighten my grip around Adrik’s neck.
“This will not end well for you, Adrik. I will—”
I stop short as pain erupts down my side. I glance down and realize that
Adrik has stuck me with a knife he pulled out from fuck knows where. The
strength evaporates from my grip immediately. He pushes me off him and
lurches for his gun, which is lying only a few feet away where he dropped
it.
Everything happens in reverse this time. I’m the one tripping. I’m the one
falling on my back. He is the one putting his foot on my chest and standing
over me, ready to rain down death.
No! I want to bellow. This can’t be how it—
BANG!
The gunshot rings out. I wait for the pain, but it doesn’t come.
Then Adrik crumples to the floor.
I twist around and find a shaking Josh, holding a smoking gun. My smoking
gun.
I reach up and snatch it from his hands. The stab wound screams with pain
as it leaks too much blood, but if I hesitate now, I’m risking my life and
more importantly, Josh’s. So I harness all my willpower and all my strength
to turn a blind eye to the pain.
I stand and kick Adrik’s gun away from where he’s still reaching for it. Josh
got him in the shoulder and he’s bleeding like a stuck pig, same as me. But
when he sees he has no chance left, he stops and looks up at me.
“Put your gun down and fight me like a man,” he croaks.
It’s a pathetic attempt to goad me. “We just tried that. As it turns out, you’re
not a man. You’re a fucking ghost.” I cock my gun and take aim.
His eyes veer to Josh. “You’re really gonna kill me in front of the kid?”
“Josh, look away.”
“No,” Josh replies firmly. “I’m not afraid.”
I nod. I want to give Adrik the death he deserves—long, messy, painful. But
I’m not about to traumatize Josh that way. So even though he doesn’t
deserve it, I give Adrik the same death I gave Vadim. Quick and clean.
But I make sure he sees it coming. I want him to know that death has come
for him.
“Goodbye, cousin.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
I shoot once.
That’s all it takes.
He flops back against the floor as blood pools around his head in two long
streams like devil’s horns. I drop the gun and grab hold of Josh, who returns
the hug with a force I’m not expecting. Somehow, now that he’s in my
arms, the stab wound doesn’t hurt quite as bad.
“Are you okay?” I rasp.
He nods against my chest. “I am now.”

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 RUSLAN

I get myself bandaged up as tight as I can before I approach the girls.

Emma is sitting on the grass outside the house, holding both of them tightly.
They’re clinging to her as if their lives depend on it. I take a painful knee in
front of them, Josh joining me at my side.
My eyes meet Emma’s and something passes between us. An electricity
that’s charged with heat, but also, something else.
Gratitude? Understanding? Hope?
I couldn’t say.
“Reagan? Caroline?”
They turn to me, their little eyes wide for a moment. Just long enough for
me to wonder if things are too broken to ever be repaired.
And then both girls jump on me at the same time.
“You saved us!” Reagan cries.
Reagan’s knee is currently digging into my freshly bandaged stab wound
but I don’t care. Because this is the best feeling in the world.
Caroline pulls away from me. “Did you kill that bad man?”
I shouldn’t be surprised by the question. I’d basically promised as much
back in that room. I glance at Emma, wondering how I should answer this.
“Ruslan said he would always protect us,” Emma says gently. “And he did.
Now, you’re safe—so let’s focus on that, shall we?”
I loop an arm around the two little girls and hold them as tight as I can
manage. “I owe you an apology. All of you. Last week, I said some things
that I shouldn’t have said. Some things I didn’t mean. I was having a bad
night and I was behaving badly. Selfishly. And I can promise you this—” I
can’t stop myself from looking at Josh when I say this next part. “—it will
never happen again.” I squeeze the girls’ hands, remembering something
Emma told me a while ago. “Meeting you three has been the great privilege
of my life. And if you’ll let me, I want to be your father. I would be so
honored to have you as my children.”
When I glance up, I see tears in Emma’s eyes. She’s trying hard to keep it
together but her chin is working overtime.
“What do you say? Do you forgive me?”
Reagan gives me a toothy smile. “I forgive you.”
Caroline nods. “Me, too.”
I put a hand to my chest. “I’m eternally grateful.” Then I turn to Josh. “You
don’t have to forgive me right away. I understand if—”
“I forgive you, too,” he says abruptly as a blush suddenly scales up his
cheeks before he adds, “… Dad.”
If there was any pain left from the stab, it’s gone now.
That one word is the best medicine I could’ve asked for.
Then it’s a pile of limbs as all of them—Emma, Josh, Caroline, Reagan—
swarm me. I’m sweaty and bloody and woozy and exhausted, but I don’t
give a fuck. I’d spend the rest of my life right here in this moment if I
could.
I kiss the top of each of their heads before they pull back.
“I want all of you to know how proud of you I am. You two—” I touch my
finger to the girl’s noses. “—for being so brave during this whole ordeal.
And you—” I turn to Josh. “—for protecting the family.”
Struggling to my feet, I glance around to check how the cleanup is going.
It’s a swarm of activity as my men haul away Adrik’s dead soldiers and
prepare the house to be burned to the ground. When I meet his eyes, Kirill
gives me a thumbs up so I know it’s safe for the kids to move around
without coming across a body.
“Uncle Kiki!” Caroline cries as she runs to him. He grabs her mid-jump and
twirls her around.
“Me next. Me next!” Then Reagan mimics her sister.
Laughing, Josh walks over to them but I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to
give Emma and I some alone time. He’s not even nine and the kid’s already
fast becoming my right-hand man.
Gotta tell Kirill to watch out. The kid might just replace him soon.
I offer Emma my hand and pull her up to her feet. Then we walk around to
one of the trucks for some privacy. Before I can say anything, Emma breaks
the silence.
“Just for the record: I forgive you, too.”
I arch a brow. “Just like that?”
Now, she’s the one raising her eyebrows. “You saved me and the kids from
two raging psychopaths and got stabbed in the process. I think you’ve
proven that you care about us.”
I frown. “What do you mean by two raging psychopaths?”
“Wait. Where’s Ben?”
“Ben?” I exclaim. “As in Ben, Ben?”
She nods and whirls around in terror like he might be behind her. “He was
—I don’t know. He said Adrik came to him and… Shit, I don’t know. I
don’t know.”
“Fuck,” I snarl. But there’s no sign of him and my men have combed the
area thoroughly by now. He must’ve run for the hills.
It’s the only smart thing he’s ever done.
She puts her hand on my chest. “Ruslan. Don’t.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re thinking of sending a team after him like you did with Remmy,
don’t.”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve known you a long time. I know you, Ruslan Oryolov. But trust me on
this: we’re never gonna see Ben again. This time, I’m sure of it. So let’s just
leave him to his pathetic life and we’ll get on with ours.”
Ours. I like the sound of that.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I concede. “There’s been enough blood spilled already. And I don’t
want to be responsible for killing those kids’ father. Even if he is a piece of
shit. But just so we’re clear, if he ever comes back—
She holds up her hands. “The gloves are off. I won’t stand in your way.”
I nod with satisfaction. “Alright then.”
She gives me a shy smile from underneath her eyelashes. “Can I ask you
something?”
“Anything.”
“What happened that night?”
I hesitate, not sure where to begin. And then it comes out of me in a steady
stream. The words just roll out, one after another. Vadim’s betrayal. Adrik’s
parentage. All the secrets. All the lies. It’s not until I’ve word-vomited all
over her that I realize I’ve been waiting to tell her all this.
I want to share it with her.
What a strange thing that is.
“So… that’s everything.”
Emma looks stumped for words. She just stares back at me with her lips
slightly parted. Highly distracting.
“Ruslan… God, I’m so sorry. Your father must be devastated.”
“He was—and he will be when he finds out the rest of it. But this was the
only way. I couldn’t trust Adrik or Vadim with freedom. I won’t risk your
lives again.”
Emma shakes her head. “It’s a lot. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to
explain sooner.”
“I didn’t deserve the chance to explain myself, Emma. What I said was
terrible. You had every right to leave, every right to want to protect the kids
from me. But I meant what I said to them: I want to be their father. I love
those kids. And—I love you.”
“Wow,” she breathes softly. “You’ve never said that before.”
“I was scared to say it. But… I’m not anymore.” I take both her hands in
mine. “I want you to worry about me, Emma. I want you to wait up for me
and ask me what the fuck I’m doing. I want you to be there for me when
I’m old and gray. I want you in every conceivable way and I will forever.”
Her eyes grow even wider. Those blue irises are mesmerizing. “Forever is a
long time, Ruslan.”
I shake my head. “Not nearly long enough for me. But it’ll have to do.”
She smiles. Tentatively at first and then more and more freely. Like she’s
really starting to believe me now.
“Does that sound good to you?”
She laughs and throws her arms around me. “It sounds like paradise.”

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EPILOGUE: EMMA

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 FIVE MONTHS LATER

Ruslan Oryolov.
The big, bad Bratva pahkan of New York City. Hotshot CEO, shark of a
businessman, and all-around tough guy.
I’ve never seen him sweat so much.
To be fair, he’s not the only one dripping in sweat. I’m soaking right
through my hospital gown. The contractions are close together now but the
nurses don’t seem in any hurry to prep me for the delivery theater.
Which is bullshit. This baby needs to come out. Like last week.
“Ice cube?” he asks me, holding out a bucket of them.
“I don’t need a fucking ice cube, Ruslan. I need this baby to get out of my
body!”
“Soon, baby,” he assures me. “Soon.”
I wince as another contraction starts up. Ruslan grabs my hand and I
squeeze hard as the pain rips through my body.
“Oww…!”
He kisses the side of my forehead and when he pulls away, there’s a
glistening sheen of my sweat on his lips.
Oh, gee, how sexy.
“Don’t kiss me,” I snap. “I’m disgusting right now.”
“Are you insane? You’re glorious. Look at everything your body is doing.
We’re at the finish line,” he assures me. “Just a couple more minutes—”
“You said that half an hour ago!”
The door swings open and I wait hopefully for the doctor to appear, but it’s
only Phoebe. “Is everything good in here?”
I grit my teeth together to keep myself from screaming. “Word of advice:
don’t get pregnant. If you want a baby, adopt one. Use a surrogate. Just
don’t. Get. Pregnant!”
Phoebe retreats slowly to the farthest corner. “So is that a yes, or…?”
Ruslan holds my hand tight and strokes it. “We’re powering through—”
“We?” I snap. “We? I think your contribution to my predicament was
months ago and it involved an orgasm. So I’m not sure what you are doing,
but I’m definitely power—ahh!—ing through.”
Ruslan gives me a sheepish smile. “Of course. This is all you, baby.”
“Honestly, stop agreeing with me all the time. It’s infuriating.”
Ruslan just nods. “Whatever you say, kiska.”
I scowl at him. “Ice cubes!”
He hands them over without hesitation and turns his attention back to
Phoebe. “How are the kids doing?”
“They’re good. Very excited. Amelia just took them down to the cafeteria to
get something to eat. I’m gonna head down there myself. You guys want
anything?”
“Oh sure. I’ll take a Big Mac and a side of fries,” I deadpan between
clenched teeth. “Can you make that happen? Because these ice cubes just
aren’t cuttin’ it, y’know?!”
Phoebe looks at Ruslan. “You’ll let us know when Emma’s back to
normal?”
I hurl an ice cube at her but she hides behind the door and gives me a
triumphant smile.
“Don’t worry. It shouldn’t be long now. Go, be with the kids,” Ruslan tells
her with a save-yourself expression that I don’t appreciate one bit.
I jerk upright as another contraction starts tearing down my spine. Ruslan
wedges himself in behind me and massages my back and hips while I try to
breathe through the pain. His hands are gentle yet strong and it eases the
pain considerably. Honestly, he’s been so damn great throughout this entire
process that I start to feel a little prickle of guilt. I’m sure it’ll disappear
when the next contraction hits.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, my love.”
“I know I’m being a bitch. I’ll apologize properly after this kid’s out of
me.”
Ruslan chuckles. “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re a fucking
warrior.”
“Really? Because I feel like a wuss. How did Sienna do this three freaking
times?”
I’ve been thinking about Sienna a lot lately. She was the first person I
thought of this morning when my water burst right in the middle of school
drop-off.
Yeah, that had been a lot of fun. The little kids thought I’d peed myself.
“Sienna probably had the same thoughts and feelings you’re having right
now,” Ruslan offers. “But then you push out a perfect baby and you forget.”
“I won’t.”
“Yes, you will. And I’ll remind you of that when we’re back here in a
couple of years having our next one.”
“I’m sorry—next one?” I screech. “I sure as fuck am not doing this a second
time. We have four kids now. That’s plenty. Or we will, anyway, if this baby
ever comes out.” I stare at my belly. “Please come out. Mama’s tired.”
“And terrifying.”
“What was that?” I snap.
“I said you look so beautiful right now.”
He chuckles and I can’t help but smile along with him. The door opens a
second later and hallelujah, it’s Dr. Rollins with two nurses at his back.
“How’re you doing, Mrs. Oryolov?”
I don’t bother correcting him. I’m in too much pain to go through the whole
we’re-together-and-in-love-but-we’re-not-currently-married-or-engaged
spiel.
“Doc, I need to have this baby,” I tell him desperately. “You gotta do
something.”
Dr. Rollins parts my legs gently and checks to see how far I’m dilated.
“Hmm…”
“Seriously. Induce me if you have to. Or just cut me open and pull the kid
out because I can’t take—”
“Looks like we’re ready to roll.”
I stop short. “W-what?”
He smiles at me. “In a few short minutes, you’re gonna meet your baby,” he
announces, getting to his feet. “Let’s get her prepped for delivery.”
I turn to Ruslan slowly. “I-it’s time…”
He grabs my hand. “I know you’re scared—but don’t be. You can do this.
And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

They say it takes a few months to forget the pain of childbirth.

For me, it takes about as long as washing my newborn son up and putting
him on my chest. I stare down at his crinkly pink face and marvel at the fact
that, only a few moments ago, he was inside me.
Tiny as he is, I still can’t believe he fit.
I glance up at Ruslan and find his hand somehow. “You’re a dad,” I
whisper.
He smiles. “I already was a dad. But it’s a new experience, seeing a
newborn like this.”
“Do you wanna hold him?”
I’ve never seen Ruslan cry before, but I think the closest I’ll ever get is this
moment right here. His eyes are shining as he lifts our son up and clutches
him close to his chest.
Now, I’m the one who’s crying.
Seeing Ruslan carrying our baby boy… it just feels so damn surreal.
Who needs a ring? You don’t need to create a baby yourself to be a parent.
And you don’t need to be married to be true life partners.
“You did amazing, my love.”
I wipe away my tears. “So did you.”
He shakes his head but he doesn’t take his eyes off our baby boy. “I didn’t
do anything.”
“Not true. You supported me. You held my hand. You took my abuse.” I can
see the little smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “I was horrible,
wasn’t I?”
“I’ve heard worse.”
I laugh. “Still. I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”
Ruslan doesn’t address me at all. He looks down at our son and talks to
him. “Don’t listen to your mama. She’s one of the most amazing, most
devoted, most compassionate, kindest people out there. You’re lucky she’s
yours.”
“Oh, God, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”
He chuckles. “Don’t. You’re already dehydrated enough.”
“I’ll drink water later. First, I want the kids to meet their new sibling.”
“Should we decide on his name first?” Ruslan asks.
We’ve been throwing around names for months now. And when you have
three older kids, that means that there are a lot of opinions.
Reagan and Caroline had only come up with girls’ names but Josh supplied
us with some real contenders.
There were a few good ones. Pasha. Aleksandr. Damien. But in the end, I
knew the name I wanted our son to carry. “Now that I’ve seen him and held
him, I’m thinking… Leo. Leo Oryolov. After his uncle.”
Saying it out loud seals the deal for me. Ruslan is smiling. “Leo Oryolov,”
he says, trying it on for size. “It suits him perfectly.”
He glances up at the ceiling like Leonid might be watching us. Then, with a
sigh, he gently deposits little Leo back into my arms and goes to get the
kids. He escorts the three of them in first while Amelia and Phoebe wait
outside so that we can have a little family moment.
The girls rush the bed, ignoring orders from both Ruslan and Josh to be
careful. Both of them clamber onto the bed with me and lean in to look at
their new little brother.
“Whoa,” Reagan breathes. “He’s so small. And pink.”
“How come he doesn’t have any hair?” Caroline demands.
I laugh. “He has a little hair but it’ll take time to grow.” Then I gesture for
Josh to come closer. “What do you think?” I ask him. “You gonna be able to
show him the ropes when he’s older?”
Josh nods solemnly. “Of course. I’m his big brother. I’ll always look out for
him.”
Ruslan and I lock eyes over the kids’ heads. All that drama and hardship
and fighting and fear—it was all worth it. This moment made it all worth it.
Our kids are safe, they are happy—they’re in therapy, true; but don’t most
kids need therapy these days?
We will never be perfect parents—mostly because there’s no such thing—
but we will always try to be the best versions of ourselves for our kids. And
we will never stop showing up for them.
“His name is Leo.”
Caroline looks at Leo with a maternal smile. “He’s so sweet, Auntie Em.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
Reagan looks a little less thrilled by the new addition to our family. Her lips
are pursed up and she’s looking at Leo with narrowed eyes.
“Rae, sweetheart, something the matter?”
She looks from Leo to Ruslan. “This baby is your baby. Yours and Aunt
Emma’s.”
Ruslan gives me a fleeting glance. “That’s right.”
“Does that mean you love him more than me and Caro and Joshie?”
I suppress a laugh. She’s gonna be a ballbuster when she’s older, I have no
doubt.
Ruslan just smiles calmly. “I can tell you right now: I love all my children
equally. All four of them. And to prove it—” He walks over to the cabinet
in the corner of the room where he’s stored his overnight bag. “—I have this
to give to you guys.”
I frown. What is he giving them?
It turns out to be a stack of papers. He hands them to Josh. Josh’s eyes go
huge when he reads the front page. He looks up at Ruslan as if in slow
motion. “Y-you’re serious?”
“What?” Caroline demands, pulling on Josh’s sleeve while Reagan pulls on
the other one. “What does it say?”
“These are… adoption papers,” Josh whispers in an awed voice.
I draw in a breath. It’s not a complete shock to me. Ruslan and I have
discussed adopting all three kids. For us, it didn’t really matter. Josh,
Reagan, and Caroline were ours no matter what. But this… this feels right.
“Adoption?” Caroline repeats.
“What’s that?” Reagan asks, entirely unimpressed.
“It means that legally, I will be your father,” Ruslan explains. “Which also
means you get to take my last name—if you want it.” When there’s silence,
he adds, “The choice is yours, of course, but—”
“Of course we want to!” Josh says, speaking for all three of them. “We
want you to adopt us!”
“Yeah, yeah! We do.” Reagan jumps head-first on the bandwagon, even
though she didn’t know what adoption was up until a few seconds ago.
“So we’ll all be Oryolovs then?” Caroline asks. She’s only just learned how
to pronounce the name correctly.
Technically, I won’t be, but I’m not gonna be a party pooper and point that
out. This is their moment. No point in ruining it, right?
Ruslan smiles cryptically. “Actually… it would be unfair of us to leave
Aunt Emma out of the equation, wouldn’t it?” He reaches into his pants
pocket and just like that, I feel as though all the breath has rushed out of my
body.
What’s happening?
He pulls out a little black box and cracks the lid. Inside sits the most
beautiful pear-shaped diamond I have ever seen.
“Ruslan!” I gasp, looking up at him. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “I want you to be my wife, Emma Carson. I want you to carry my
name. I want to raise our children together forever. Will you marry me?”
I’d never imagined a proposal like this—literally surrounded by our kids.
But I guess some things are just too damn amazing to imagine in the first
place.
A happy tear slides down my cheek as I nod. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Ruslan slips the ring onto my finger as Josh and the girls clap and shout and
hug us clumsily. The baby boy in my arms gurgles impatiently, probably
annoyed at all the commotion we’re making.
“You are so lucky, little Leo,” I whisper to him while the kids are hanging
off Ruslan and screeching with joy. “To have such wonderful siblings. To
have such a great father.”
As it turns out, you don’t have to be married to be true life partners.
But it certainly doesn’t hurt.

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EXTENDED EPILOGUE: RUSLAN

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 TEN YEARS LATER

Check out the Extended Epilogue to take a sneak peek ten years into
the future! Witness Ruslan prepare to hand over the reins of the Bratva
and see how strong his love for Emma is more than a decade since the
voicemail that changed everything!

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