Page 132 of Cruel Promise


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“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 clearlynot.”

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 thinkyouknow what I need?” I demand, practically spitting at her. “I’m the fuckingpahkan. I’m the fucking boss. Who the hell are you?”

She grits her teeth, her blue eyes flashing. “Iam your partner. I’m the mother of your children.”

“I’ve got news for you: ‘partner’ is still not ‘wife.’ And onlyoneof 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.

48

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.”

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