Cruel Paradise (Oryolov Bratva Book 1)

Be calm.

You don’t know what your chances are.

And if this doesn’t work out, then you can kill him.

My leg has been bouncing erratically since I sat down in Isabel Costa’s empty office to wait for her. I could have cornered her in the lunchroom, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in public.

“Emma?”

I spin around in my chair. “Hi, Isabel.”

The lawyer is standing on the threshold of her door, looking at me with arched eyebrows. She seems to get the measure of the situation in seconds because she walks in and closes her door.

Isabel never closes her door.

“What’s up?” she asks, sitting down next to me instead of behind her desk.

“I know you’re not in the habit of handing out free legal advice—”

She smiles. “Let’s consider this personal advice then, shall we?”

I nod gratefully. I’ve always liked Isabel, always felt like we could be good friends whenever we happened to end up sitting at the same lunch table at work or crossing paths at the firm’s Christmas party. We might have been, if it weren’t for the fact that I was too busy trying to keep my head above water to put any energy into developing new friendships.

“Sure. Personal.” I try to return her smile, but mine is weak, with more tears waiting if I get too deep in the weeds. “Before you came to Bane, didn’t you used to work in family law?”

“Ten years of it,” she confirms. “Is this about your nieces?”

“And nephew.” I take a deep breath and jump right in. “I want to legally adopt them. And I also want to strip their father of his rights.”

Isabel’s eyebrows hit the roof of her forehead. Not a good sign.

“It’s possible, isn’t it?” I press desperately. “It has been done before?”

“It has. But rarely. It is extremely difficult to get a biological parent’s rights stripped while they’re still in the picture, Emma. It can be hard for the other parent to do it, let alone an aunt. And the only way a court would even consider it is if you can prove that your brother-in-law is a danger to those kids.”

I laugh bitterly. “I can do that.”

It’s a credit to her professionalism that she doesn’t wince or look surprised. She just nods and sighs. “Well then, that will make a difference. Is he abusive? Violent?”

“He drinks a lot. And lately, he has been getting violent. H-he… pushed Josh last night.”

I’m angry with myself for how this is all coming out. I’m making it seem like a non-incident when it was anything but. He broke those kids last night. All three had clambered into my bed and it took five bedtime stories before they felt soothed enough to fall asleep.

“Does he have a history of that kind of behavior?”

“Last night was the first time it got that bad,” I admit. “But he does sometimes threaten to hit them. He’s been getting more and more belligerent. And the drinking has increased, too.”

Isabel sighs. “Emma, I’d love to be able to give you some positive news, but this sounds like it’s going to be a long, drawn-out court case. Unless of course your brother-in-law is willing to sign over his parental rights to you.”

I bite my lip. “I doubt he’ll agree to that.”

“Then you’re looking at a custody battle and that’s gonna take time and money.”

The nest egg that I’ve built in the last few months is significant. But it’s nowhere near enough to cover the kind of legal fees that a case like this would require.

“I don’t have enough of either of those things,” I mutter.

“Does he?”

“No… but he knows where to get the money,” I admit.

I call them Mom and Dad. They’d help him in a heartbeat.

Isabel fixes me with a sympathetic expression. “Listen—if you’re determined to go down this road, I can recommend a good lawyer. In fact, when it comes to child custody cases, she might just be the best.”

The anxiety is setting in something fierce right about now. I need the best. But I can’t afford the best. The mere thought of lawyer bills hitting my inbox gives me the chills. “I’m gonna have to think this over a little.”

Isabel nods. “You do that and let me know if you need that contact.”

I thank Isabel and head out into the corridors of Bane Corp. feeling like I’ve just been spat out by a tornado. My heart is clamoring against my chest and it feels like I have only a few options left.

Plan A was the court system, but that seems like it might be out of reach right now. Plan B is drop a piano on Ben’s head and, as satisfying at that might be, I’m just not that type of person.

Which means all I have left is Plan C.

And Plan C goes by the name of Ruslan Oryolov.

The new contract. The baby clause.

The thought alone gives me hives. I get a concerned look from a passing intern, so I duck into the nearest restroom and splash some cold water on my neck.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already been considering Ruslan’s new contract. Especially after the conversation we had on Sienna’s would-be birthday. It was a lot, though, and the thought of something that big, that permanent, was terrifying enough for me to throw up an instinctive, automatic Hell, no.

But now?

Now, I have another reason to consider it. A bigger, more important reason. Now, it’s not about personal choice—we’re talking necessity. We’re talking survival.

And in the deepest recesses of my mind, where all my darkest secrets lie hidden away, one thought tunnels through to my consciousness.

I can have my cake and eat it, too.

Because let’s face it: if I were to look at the list of things I want, saying “yes” to this amended contract is the only way to get them all.

Cue quick mental checklist:

I want custody of those kids.

I want to strip Ben of his parental rights.

I need enough money to do both those things.

I need enough money to provide for those children once I have them.

I’ve always wanted a family of my own.

I’ve never felt about a man the way I feel about Ruslan.

Signing his contract would give me all the above. Of course, the downside is that I’d be signing a contract to start a family with a man who isn’t even really my boyfriend. Who explicitly warned I’d never get all of him. And I’d be exchanging my body—again—for money.

It really is a slippery slope.

But as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, it occurs to me: I’m prepared to slide right down. I’m ready and willing to deal with whatever consequences await me at the bottom of this slope.

For the kids, if not for myself. They deserve everything I can give them.

Okay, Emma. It’s now or never.

Riding the high of my new resolve, I march towards Ruslan’s office. I don’t even knock before I enter—guns out, barrels blazing.

Ruslan takes one look at my face and throws a sharp “Out” at Kirill.

When the door closes behind Kirill, I face Ruslan and I put all my cards on the table. “I need to get my kids away from Ben. I probably should have done it a long time ago, but—well, you know why I didn’t. The thing is, I’m looking at a long, drawn-out custody battle because Ben’s not gonna give those kids up without a fight. And he’s probably gonna have my parents in his corner, which means I need to find the money to pay the best custody lawyer I can find.”

I’m not taking what you’d call a “normal amount of pauses.” I’m not taking what you’d call “a normal amount of breaths,” either. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop.

“I know this is probably not what you wanted. Picking someone else would be a hell of a lot simpler. But you should know what you’re getting into, which is why I’m telling you all this up front. Going with me is gonna mean a fuck-ton of drama, a protracted court battle, and a hell of lot of tears. But—if you’re up for it, I am, too.”

The moment I stop talking, I’m engulfed in fear.

Way to sell yourself, Emma.

Ruslan’s expression is unreadable. There isn’t so much as a line on his forehead. He gets to his feet slowly and walks around his desk. “Was that your way of telling me you’re willing to sign my new contract?”

I gulp. “Was that not clear?” He smirks and I cover my face with my hands. “I’m sorry,” I say into my palms just before I drop them. “Yes, I am willing to sign your new contract.”

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he grabs a folder from his desk and hands it to me.

I let out a low whistle. “You had that one locked and loaded.”

“I’ve had time to think about this.”

“Sure, but I just hit you with a lot of new information. You sure you’re willing to sign up for the drama?”

He still doesn’t so much as blink. “I want to have an heir with someone I like and respect. If drama is part of the deal, then so be it.”

“You like and respect me?” I mumble stupidly.

He rolls his eyes. “Just take the damn contract, Emma.”

A bubble of laughter escapes me. This feels so weird. Surreal, almost. No, not almost—it is surreal. It is completely, certifiably crazy.

But it also feels like the right thing to do.

I take the contract and hold it to my chest. “I’ll have it back on your desk by this evening.”

Talk about déjà vu.

“Actually,” he says suddenly, “I have one more tweak I want to make before I let you take it. I’ll have Kirill deliver it to you in an hour or so. You can return it to me tonight—at the penthouse.”

“Tonight’s not our usual night.”

“No,” he agrees in a smooth, suggestive baritone rumble, “it’s not.”

I pass the contract back to him, feeling my cheeks heat up. “Okay then.”

Our eyes meet and I try to suppress the shiver that threatens to run down my spine. I’d expected fear. Wariness. Nervousness, at the very least.

But all I feel is excitement.

Rae, Caroline, and Josh are going to be safe.

Ben is going to be shoved out of the picture.

Ruslan and I are going to have a baby.