Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

“Delivery for Carson.”

I blink at the sullen delivery boy in the Uber Eats vest. “I didn’t order anything.”

He shrugs, completely deadpan. “It was ordered for you. There’s a note.”

Without further ado, he shoves the two flat boxes into my arms. I’m immediately overwhelmed with the smell of garlic and cheese. The note tacked to the front of the box reads simply, “So you’ve got one less thing on your plate today before the game—Ruslan.”

It’s so strange to think that, just a couple of months ago, I thought Ruslan Oryolov was the spawn of Satan. The man hell-bent on ruining my life and putting me in an early grave. But somehow, in a matter of weeks, he’s become the knight in shining armor I never knew I needed.

How did he even know about Josh’s game?

Well, clearly, Josh told him. But the fact that he remembered? That he considered what my day might look like, only to try and make it easier?

I have genuinely never been this turned on. Sure, the man’s hot as sin—but even those amber eyes, those powerful arms, that strong jaw, all that pales in comparison to the turn-on that is an unexpected, thoughtful gesture. If I saw him help a grandma cross the street right now, I’d probably mount him in the middle of the pedestrian path.

I give the delivery guy a tip and a distracted thank you and walk the pizzas into the kitchen.

The moment Ben sees me, his eyes narrow. “You ordered pizza again?”

I set the boxes down on the counter and quickly slip Ruslan’s note into my pants pocket before he can see it. “From Phoebe. She wanted to do something nice before Josh’s big game.”

“What game?”

“Ben, are you kidding me? He’s only been talking about this all freaking week.”

Ben coughs and snaps his fingers towards the fridge. “Pass me another beer, will ya?”

“It’s one in the afternoon. Do you really need a drink?”

He scowls at me. “For God’s sake, when did you become such a pain in the ass? You’re not my wife. If you’re not sucking my dick, you’ve got no right to nag me, either.”

I glare at him furiously. “Now, I know you’re joking.”

“You’re the one who started it,” he mutters. “Hey—the beer…?”

I ignore him and call for the kids. “Lunch, munchkins!”

Ben tosses me a dirty look and shoves past me to fetch himself another beer. The girls tumble into the kitchen, all knees and elbows, their little noses pointed upwards like hunting dogs on the scent.

Reagan gasps when she spots the pizza boxes on the counter. “Pizza! Woohoo!”

While the girls celebrate with a pizza dance that Caroline invented and takes very seriously, Josh strides into the kitchen, already in his team uniform. He sits down opposite Ben, his eyes flitting sporadically to his father before going right back down to his lap.

The moment the girls stuff their faces with pizza, Josh makes use of the temporary quiet. “Dad, do you wanna come to my game today?”

Ben takes a swig of his beer and shifts in his seat. “Uh…”

I grit my teeth and cross my fingers, praying silently. How could he say no to that sweet face? Only a monster would say—

“Listen, kid, I’d really like to, but I’ve already got a helluva headache and sitting out in the sun isn’t gonna help.”

Guess that makes him a monster.

I walk up behind Josh and scowl at Ben. “It’s an indoor court.”

His mouth goes stupidly slack. “Still, it’s best I sit this one out. I’m not feeling great and you wouldn’t want me throwing up all over the court, right, J?” Josh nods silently and Ben lets out a satisfied burp. “Good kid. I’ll make the next game.”

Then he proceeds to heap his plate with pizza before he leaves the kitchen. A few seconds later, his door slams shut.

I sit down next to Josh. “I bet you’re the only kid there with his own personal cheerleading squad.” I cringe at how falsely bright my voice is. “Me, Caro, and Reagan—and you know Care Bear has that dance she’s been torturing me into learning. Heck, even Aunt Phoebe is joining!”

“I know.” Josh gives me a tight smile. “Anyway, I’m not hungry. May I be excused?”

My heart sinks but I nod anyway. I would’ve stormed into Ben’s room and forced his miserable ass to attend the game if I wasn’t sure that he would find a way to make the whole evening all about him if he came.

The kids are better off when Ben’s not involved in their lives. The only problem is—

They don’t know that yet.

“I can’t believe you made a sign!” I laugh as Phoebe thrusts her homemade JOSH THE BOSS poster into the air as I approach with Caroline and Rae each holding a hand.

“Of course I did. This is a big deal. The rhyme scheme is questionable, but we’re gonna overlook that, mmkay?” She puts the sign down so she can squeeze the girls. “Where’s our main man?”

I glance around to find that Josh isn’t right behind me like I’d thought. “He was right here just a second ago.” I inch a little closer to Phoebe while the girls start wobbling her posterboard and giggling at the sound it makes. “Ben didn’t come and I think Josh is a little down because of it.”

“Down?” Phoebe interrupts. “He doesn’t look down to me.”

I follow her gaze to the end of the bleachers where Josh is standing with a huge smile on his face. “What is he…?”

I gasp when I realize who he’s smiling at.

Phoebe grabs my arm so tightly it’s actually painful. “Oh my God! Is that who I think it is?”

“Pheebs, excuse me for a second.”

I leave her with the girls and walk over to Ruslan, trying to look a hell of a lot more composed than I actually feel. His and Josh’s heads are close together. Josh says something, Ruslan laughs, they exchange a fist bump, and then Josh joins his teammates on the court to start running through layup lines and warmup drills.

“Ruslan?” I gape at him, still not totally convinced that he’s real.

He just nods. “Hey.”

That’s it. That’s all he gives me. Hey. So damn casual. “What are you, uh—whatcha doing here?” I’m going for “easy, breezy, Cover Girl” vibes, but I think I end up sounding constipated.

“Josh invited me.”

“And you came?”

He shrugs. “I had some free time.”

I glance over at Phoebe, who wags her eyebrows at me and starts doing her weird shoulder dance that she uses as nonverbal encouragement. I turn my back on her, hoping that Ruslan doesn’t notice.

“I really appreciate you showing up, but you don’t have to stay. I’ll talk to Josh and—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes gleam under the bright lights. “He didn’t force me to show up; he asked if I would and I made a promise to him. So I’m here and I’m staying for the whole game.”

He lifts a hand and waves. I twist around to see Josh stepping up to the hoop to make his layup. It’s obvious he wants Ruslan to watch him. It’s also obvious that he’s nervous. He fumbles the ball a few times and it almost gets away from him.

“Deep breath, Josh,” Ruslan rumbles, giving him a loud clap.

Josh nods, takes a deep breath, and shoots.

“YES!” I scream when the ball goes in, my enthusiasm wildly out of proportion to how uneventful warmup drills are in the overall context of things.

Josh side-eyes me with an embarrassed glance, his cheeks going red. I frown and clamp my lips shut. “How did I end up being the embarrassing aunt and how did you turn out to be the cool—”

I stop short when I realize I don’t know what the hell he is at the moment. Makes sense, really—how should I know what Ruslan is to the kids, when I’m not even sure what he is to me?

What I do know is that Josh’s mood has picked up considerably. He’s racing around the court with a huge smile on his face, looking like a real eight-year-old for a change. It’s enough to make me grateful that Ruslan is here in the first place.

Like I needed another reason…

I gesture for Ruslan to follow me. “Well, come on then. Family and friends section is this way.” As we approach, the girls finally look up from Phoebe’s poster long enough to notice Ruslan. Both of them start squealing loudly as they make a run for him.

“Shut up,” I mutter the moment I’m standing next to Phoebe.

She’s grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t say anything.”

Ruslan approaches with Caroline and Reagan hanging off him like human accessories. “Phoebe, this is my boss, Ruslan Oryolov. Ruslan, this is—”

“The best friend,” she interrupts, sticking her hand out to him. “Phoebe Lawrence.”

Ruslan gives her his full wattage smile. It actually annoys me—not because Phoebe doesn’t deserve it, but because I think I deserve it, too.

Would it kill him to smile at me like that every once in a while?

We find a good spot on the bleachers and I try to shoot Phoebe a warning glare as she rattles off rapid-fire questions at Ruslan.

“How did you start Bane Corp.? How long have you been CEO? Do you ever take time off? Do you have an active social life?”

Her questions go on and on. But I have to give it to Ruslan: he never falters, never betrays irritation or impatience. He sits there, balancing Reagan on one knee and Caroline on the other, and answers every last one of Phoebe’s questions.

The only time she lets up is when the game starts and Josh gets possession of the ball. Phoebe holds up her sign, the girls screech, and Ruslan claps loudly.

At some point, in the middle of the game, Phoebe leans towards me. “Okay,” she says softly. “I approve.”

I’m genuinely surprised. Phoebe’s not usually so easily won. Especially when it comes to my boyfriends.

Not that Ruslan is anything of the sort.

“That’s it, Josh! Well done!” Ruslan exclaims.

It’s hard to miss Josh’s beaming smile as he runs past us. My gaze slides over to Ruslan’s sharp profile. He’s half-covered by Reagan’s curtain of hair and Caroline is busy playing with his watch clasp.

I know he’s not a “good guy” by any stretch of the imagination. But maybe, just maybe…

He’s a good man.