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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.”
47
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’tfeelanything 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 onlyone. A blue-eyedkiskawith 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.”
