Chapter Twenty-One - Emily
Seeing him again makes me sick. Sick right down to the marrow of my bones. Standing face-to-face with the man who abandoned me and left me cold on the streets of Chicago to be gobbled up in the foster care system. I don’t know how he can live with himself after all he’s done.
There’s not enough words in my vocabulary to demonstrate my disgust with him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I let my mind wander, the night lights of Chicago whizzing by.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. And there were so many sleepless, fitful nights when I did. Repeatedly. I waited for him to show up and claim me. I would have accepted him back as my father if he just came to rescue me.
I already lost my mother and had nothing. Stripped of an opportunity to get to know her, I started life without feeling whole. Without nurturing as a kid in the early years. He could have taken me wherever he was. He didn’t need to leave me behind, but I try to put everything in perspective, a watery smile coming to my face when I think about Laura.
Sweet, sweet Laura. She gave me so much. She was everything to me, and poured so much love, support and care into me, making up for the loss, the grief, and the rejection. She made it all worth it, and now Ryurik has saved her. I don’t know if I would have been able to do it, but he did.
Ryurik holds up my silence, but I can feel him looking at me wanting to say something as the drive continues. I feel a sense of obligation to give him a response. Sighing, I take the plunge and tell him what I’m thinking and feeling.
“He abandoned her,” I say quietly as the driver inches forward from the T-intersection.
“Paul?” Ryurik predicts as I nod my head.
“Yes.” With tears welling in my eyes, I turn to Ryurik, unable to hide, having to confront the nasty and very real reminder of the truth. He slides his pinky finger over to mine, latching on to it. “He abandoned my mother when she was pregnant. I don’t know if him not being there was the reason.” I drift off, closing my eyes, letting the lump pass down my throat. Despite all the therapy sessions I’ve attended to reconcile the past, Paul has managed to cut open the sealed wound and rub salt into it again.
A flashcard of an old memory spirals me back in time for a second as I recall being walked through the eerie halls of the orphanage by one of the nuns.
“I’m taking you to a separate room so you can heal. Your coughing is disturbing the rest of the girls. When you stop, you can go back.” I was so scared and anxious being away from the other girls in my dorm. I barely made it down the hall as I coughed and spluttered. This nun didn’t have soft hands either, they were callused, rough in texture, and I tried to slip my hand out of hers to run back, but all she did was hold on tighter, glaring down at me.
Frowning, I shake off the memory, Ryurik’s face replacing hers as I take a deep breath. I don’t know why or how that core memory returned, but that’s one of many.
“The reason for?” Ryurik draws me back to what I was saying.
“Umm, shit. I’ve lost my train of thought. I found out later who he was.”
“Okay. How old were you when you found out about him?”
Shrugging, I think back, remembering a social worker lady talking to me about him. “I think I was in the single digits. I must have been around eight or nine. It’s a miracle the nuns told me. I didn’t think they would.”
“Why wouldn’t they tell you? It’s your right to know who your father is.”
“Sure it is, but those nuns in there weren’t the nicest. I had a rough time there. But yeah, when I tried to contact him, he refused to see me.” I state the hard truth out loud, the rebound of rejection searing through my chest again.
Ryurik doesn’t say anything, just quietly keeps his finger linked to mine for a moment as I process seeing Paul’s smug face at the ball. What a way to meet with him. When I saw his pictures back then, they were from the paper. He was younger and cockier with a full head of chocolate brown hair like mine, and the same shaped eyes. And when I looked at him at the ball in full profile, the blip in time circled me back to the same man from the paper, only his hair had sprinkles of gray running through it.
“Your father’s name is Paul Butcher,” one of the nuns told me, shoving a newspaper in front of my face. I was happy that day to find out who he was. I just knew once he found out about me, he would want me. I was his after all.
In the paper he was famous, but not in a good way. He had gone to prison for fraud. I toss the fragmented pieces of the past out the window as Ryurik drags me back to the present.
“You don’t have to keep talking about him if you don’t want to. But if you do, you can.” There’s no push, only compassion. The same gesture he showed me when he had new shoes brought to the stage for me at the fundraiser.
“No. I should. It’s fine, just every now and then I think too hard about him. Once I was adopted and Laura took me in, I found out he was part of a crime syndicate. I studied him—others like him deciding I wanted to take every man down in organized crime.”
Ryurik sighs, a look of understanding reached as he nods his head. “I get it.”
Telling him lifts the invisible weight off my chest and I can’t stop everything from pouring out. “I spent years studying the hierarchies of the Mafia in Chicago. There’s a reason I never moved to another city. I wanted to crack down on it and be part of dismantling the system any way I could. That’s the main reason I became a cop.”
“Makes sense.”
“I studied for my exams and got in, going in earlier and staying later than anyone at night. I’ve been on a mission since I came to the department.” I pause, trying to keep up with myself, the feeling and the jumbled-up timeline, pouring out of me. “I did good too. I’ve been winning, and I wanted to get to him. He’s been the big fish I’ve wanted to catch, and you brought him to me.”
Ryurik’s face drains of color as I face him. The road is full of traffic, but the driver coasts through it successfully in the silence. “I guess I did.”
“I hated men who worked in organized crime. Because of my deadbeat father.” I clear the choked-up sob in my throat. “I wanted him locked up. To pay for ignoring me and leaving me in the orphanage when I needed him. Men in organized crime have no family values. No morals, and you’re just cruel and cold. Must be a lonely place to be you.”
Ryurik lets a sigh escape. “Emily, the Bratva is a brotherhood, and it’s built on family. I would never abandon my child, or you. Never.” His clasp of my pinky finger turns into him taking my hand in his, bringing it to his face and cupping it.
The tears mist up, his words adding a comforting balm to my soul. It’s what I’ve been craving forever, I realize. “Thank you.” We arrive home, the black iron wrought gates opening as the driver parks and we head into the house together, hand in hand.
There’s nothing else I want or need to say to him as we head inside. It’s ended with heaviness, but there’s hope. I find my hands instinctively cupping my belly as we head to the bedroom.
Ryurik meets me as I take my earrings off with a tight smile, not sure where to go from here. “I’ve only just met Paul. He’s nothing to me. I don’t want you to think about tonight or what happened back there.”
His hands rub down my shoulders, the burden lifted. Even though this marriage might have started on the wrong terms, the fact he cares about my past and what Paul did to me—feels good. Somebody cares.
“I don’t know what your relationship is to him, but the last thing I want to do is end the night talking about my estranged father.” I didn’t want to feel or think about the deeply rooted sorrows of the past. I only wanted this shitstorm of my past to fuck off, but in all honesty, it was too fucked up for words.
Ryurik’s mass of hair hangs over his eyes, his white shirt hanging freely open, the ripple of his carved body easy to see. A spark of desire goes off inside me as I drink him in with my eyes.
His fingers flex, as I stare at the sexy man in front of me. My husband. A man himself involved with organized crime, but who couldn’t be further from the likeness of my father if he tried.
“Tonight. I’m going to make you forget all about him,” he rasps as I stand on my tippy toes to kiss a man who represents everything, I thought I hated. I can’t let my head get in the way, because my heart has a different measuring stick and Ryurik is a magnet drawing me in, as much as I am to him.
Smiling gently, I remember our first encounter. He wouldn’t let me touch or kiss him, and I understand why. There’s a gateway there, to the softer part of his soul, and one he hasn’t—I’m betting—let any woman experience. His kiss heals as he cups the back of my head, our tongues grooving together as I drag my lips over the top of his. I’m already floating to some other place. A better one with him in it. Maybe he’s doing the same as I am, just differently. Wanting to protect his family and everything he’s built.
Drawing back, I stare deeply into the depth of his eyes. “I want you to make me forget. That’s what I need,” I tell him as Ryurik sighs, shaking his head.
“It’s going to be hard to get you out of this dress. You look so pretty in it, but it’s a good thing I know what’s underneath is even better.” A light turns on in my heart. That’s the compliment I wanted earlier. He slips me out of my dress, stripping me down to only my bra and panties. I back myself up to the bed, my flesh hot as I admire the man, I now legally call my husband. He takes off his shirt, the masterpiece underneath revealed.
He’s a clean slate, and there’s no tattoos like his associates have, and it makes me wonder about him. But there’s no time for thinking; as his pants come off, a hot ache hits my core as the outline of his sizable girth comes into sight.
“Why don’t you have any tattoos? I thought that’s a Bratva man’s signature.” With my heart pumping loudly Ryurik flicks his hair out of his eyes, licking his lips.
“I don’t need the tattoos as markers. I know the man I am and want to be,” he replies, his darkly sexy voice turning me on.
I slide myself against one of the plush pillows, opening my legs as Ryurik massages my foot, the touch of his hand working wonders for me. “Emily. You’re mine. All mine.”
Knowing how devoted he is to me, makes my pussy tighten up. Ryurik’s possessive quality makes me feel safe in a way I haven’t before. His steady and silent ways are giving me a foundation. His dark pupils have already undressed me, and what a treat it is to be this wanted.
Ryurik takes my silk panties down inch by inch, his heavy breathing delicious to my ears. His hand glides up my inner thigh, invoking a shudder, the cool air on my lower half and his hand combining to drive me wild. His hair flops forward, the green eyes of a hungry wolf approaching as his fingers probe my wet slickness. I feel the tension from the harrowing night dissolve, my body unwinding from his touch.
Paul who?
My mouth parts, his lids close, the primal state of Ryurik activated, the dim light from the bedroom lamp shining in shadow on his face. I spread my legs more, waiting—craving him. Damn, the man is sex itself. All broad shoulders, broodiness, and danger. Ryurik dips his head, his soft curls tickling along my inner thigh, up to the apex of my pussy, licking and suctioning, the wet, cool of his saliva, spiraling my body into pleasurable shivers.
His tongue takes the heavy load of work, his mouth working overtime, my body tingling with every internal exploration. “Yes, Ryurik. Mmm, there.”
I’m losing myself in him, and it’s the perfect salve to chase the baggage of the past away. He dives in with the tip, deep diving between my sensitive folds, my fingers massaging into his head.
Maybe it’s in my blood, and I’ve been denying everything I am. Maybe I’ve been fated to end up with a man in organized crime. Why else would I circle back to a man who works in its underbelly? As the peak of pleasure threatens to steal the show, I consider Ryurik might be the one to show me in his own way, not to judge an occupation. I drink in the intensity of Ryurik’s fire for me, letting his tongue work its magic, my legs shaking before I explode.
He comes up for air, sticky with sweat, a dirty grin on his handsome face. “That’s the type of work I like to do.” He wipes his mouth, his cock glistening, waiting for its turn.
Languidly, I open my eyes, sighing through the faint contractions of orgasm afterwards.
“Mmm,” I murmur, bringing my legs up to my knees as Ryurik groans at my open channel, my head and body ringing.
“Emily, Ryurik whispers hoarsely, the moment taking me right where it needs to. I watch as he gently inserts his glistening cock, stretching me out. All the pain disintegrates as his hips thrust forward slowly at first, his hand splayed over the folded ripples of my stomach as he pumps. I wrap my thick legs around him, wanting us to be one. Touching a hand to his chest, he thrusts his hips forward, but not before dipping to kiss my mouth.
There’s no more pain, only us. Good versus evil, the lines blurred, my attraction to the darkness, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Ryurik’s eyes meld with mine, the pace relentless, my body breaking under our bed of marital sin. We shatter together in climax, breaking all the rules and maybe this is why criminals like the forbidden, because it tastes so sweet.