Dirty Grovel: Chapter 21

Little Bear whines at my feet, his paws roving backwards and forwards as though he’s running in his sleep.

Giggling, I give his ear a good scratch and he settles down but I’ll have to wake him again in fifteen minutes to go outside and pee.

Teo has been asleep for hours now. It’s closing in on midnight and there’s still no sign of Jesse.

Which, in my opinion, is a great sign.

I’m meandering around the kitchen, fixing myself a cup of tea, when my phone beeps. Bear gives a sleepy little bark and burrows further under the couch.

Laughing, I retrieve my phone.

JESSE: I’m so sorry, I’m leaving in like ten minutes. I didn’t mean for this dinner to go on so late.

SUTTON: Don’t be ridiculous. Take your time. I’m happy to stay as long as you need. Even into the next morning… *winky face emoji*

JESSE: I don’t put out on the first date.

SUTTON: Aha! So, you admit it’s a date?!

JESSE: It definitely seems that way. It’s just that we’ve been in the friend zone for so long, I didn’t dare think… Anyway let’s see how this ends. He’s in the powder room now.

SUTTON: Probably popping in a mint to cinch that end of the night kiss.

JESSE: I’m so nervous!

SUTTON: Don’t be. You looked stunning in that dress. If he doesn’t move out of the friend zone tonight, then he’s an idiot.

I can see Jesse texting back, but the thread is intercepted by an incoming message from my sister. I’ve been waiting to hear from her since the party two days ago.

My last few texts went unanswered. Considering she’s been locked up in a room for ages, you’d think she’d have time to text me back.

SYDNEY: Sorry I didn’t text sooner but I’ve been busy coming up with a plan to break outta this place.

SUTTON: Whatever you’re planning, it better be smart!

Jesse’s text comes in at the same time that Sydney’s does. She’s assuring me that she’ll be home as soon as she can. I bat away the message and focus on my sister’s thread.

SYDNEY: I don’t know about smart. But it’s definitely big.

SUTTON: Then maybe you shouldn’t do it.

SYDNEY: I have to get out of here, Sut. I can’t stay trapped in this room forever. Now I finally know how Rapunzel felt.

SUTTON: I agree that you need to get out. What I disagree with is your grand scheme. Which is what, exactly?

SYDNEY: I better not put it in writing. Just in case.

SUTTON: Then call me.

SYDNEY: I’m not alone right now. Don’t bother.

That stops me from putting my worries in text. And the fact is, I have quite a few.

My sister can be impulsive and reckless when she’s not thinking straight. And considering she’s been trapped in one room for weeks, I’m willing to bet my pinky that she’s not thinking straight in the least.

The more important factor is the man who locked her up in the first place. Paul Lipovsky is an entitled, narcissistic idiot. He’s not a real player like Oleg or the Martineks, but he aspires to be one. And on good days, he thinks he is one.

Which makes him dangerous.

And if my sister happens to be in the crosshairs of his bad temper, then God help her.

SUTTON: Will you call when you’re alone again?

SYDNEY: I’ll do my best.

SUTTON: Just *please* be careful. Don’t do anything reckless or stupid.

SYDNEY: What you call reckless, I call bold. What you call stupid, I call dynamic.

SUTTON: You’re not making me feel any better.

SYDNEY: Don’t worry, little sister. I can take care of myself. Been doing it all my life. I’ve got this.

She has a point there. She has been taking care of herself for a long time now. She took care of me, too, for a good portion of it.

But her argument kind of falls apart when you consider that she went and got herself indebted to the asshole of all assholes. A man who beats her, manipulates her, controls her, and keeps her locked up in a literal tower.

Ironic, really, what with me and my love for fairy tales—Sydney and I have gotten ourselves entangled in two of our very own.

But minus the magic and the love and the happily ever afters.

SUTTON: *Be careful*!

SYDNEY: Aye, aye, captain.

Sighing, I put my phone away and check on Teo.

He’s sleeping soundly, wrapped up in his duvet so that I can only see the top of his dark little head.

I close the door as far as I can without actually shutting it. Then I walk over to Bear and scratch his head until his eyes lift.

“Come on, little tyke. Time for a pee break.”

With a small yap, the pup jumps to his feet and follows me out of Jesse’s cottage. After he’s done peeing, he starts ambling around on the grass, looking up at the moon as though he thinks he can catch it.

“Silly goof,” I chuckle.

I twist to the side at the sound of a tree branch crack. It sounds like someone’s just around the corner.

But it’s too soon for Jesse to make an appearance.

I snap my fingers and gesture for Bear to come to me. The puppy is too busy talking to the moon to pay any attention. I’m about to go to him when I catch the big shadow peeking around the cottage.

My heart jumps.

The man turns the corner.

There’s a scream lodged in the back of my throat⁠—

And then I catch sight of him.

“Oleg!” I cry.

“Sutton,” he murmurs.

Then at the same time, we both ask, “What are you doing here?”

He smirks; I laugh. “You first.”

“I noticed that Jesse’s lights were still on,” he explains. “She and Teo are usually in bed by ten at the latest. I just wanted to come down here and check that everything was okay.”

My heart does a pathetic tremble. It’s annoying that he can so easily impress me with his thoughtful little gestures. Maybe because that’s not the image he markets for himself.

“Everything’s okay,” I assure him. “Jesse’s on a date and she needed me to babysit Teo.” Bear gives a timid bark, as though to remind us he’s there. “And Bear, of course.”

Bear runs up to Oleg and starts nipping at his ankles. Oleg kneels in front of the little dog and starts playing with him, pushing him down on the grass so that he can rub his belly.

It’s sickeningly adorable and I have to look away so that my knees don’t give way beneath me.

“Jesse’s on a date, huh?” he says, looking at Bear but talking to me. “Good for her.”

I nod. “She deserves it.”

“Does she happen to be on a date with Ryan?” he asks, arching an eyebrow as he picks Bear up and cradles him in his arms like a child.

“Yes,” I gawk. “How did you know?”

“They’ve been friends for ages,” he says. “But that shy bastard hasn’t made a move yet. I think the timing was always wrong.”

“Hopefully, tonight, the timing is perfect.”

Bear has fallen asleep in Oleg’s arms. I don’t blame him; I could definitely fall asleep in those arms, too.

“Let me put him in his crate,” Oleg says, stepping into the house. When he reemerges, he glances awkwardly at me. “You’re gonna hang around here?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I can’t shirk my babysitting duties.”

“Right.” He nods distractedly, looking over towards the gate where Jesse will emerge from when she arrives. “Right.”

“Was there… something else?”

He clears his throat. “Actually, I did want to discuss a few things with you. But it can wait until tomorrow.”

“No.” I gesture behind him, towards the colorful wicker chairs on the patio. “We’ve got time now. Let’s discuss it. I have a few things I want to talk to you about, too.”

He looks intrigued. “Is that right?”

“I would have brought it up sooner, but you seem to have been avoiding me these last two days.” The wicker chair creaks under his weight. “I was starting to think that I might have to put my pirate costume on again just to get your attention.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna stop you. Being a pirate wench definitely suited you.”

“‘Wench’?!”

“I got news for you, princess,” he teases. “Plain ol’ pirates don’t show that much cleavage.”

I’m turning a bright shade of pink. I can only hope that the moonlight can camouflage me. Judging from the smirk on Oleg’s face, though, it’s not.

“It was the only costume they had left.”

“A likely story.”

I roll my eyes. “And okay, yes, I figured it would be easier to get you to do what I wanted if I were showing a bit more skin.”

He laughs. “I thought there was a whiff of manipulation about that costume.”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“I’m not complaining. If you feel the need to manipulate me again in the future, might I suggest a nice, sexy nurse’s uniform? Or a French maid. I’m partial to either.”

“Role-playing, huh? Is that the way to get to you?”

“One of many. But I’m not about to give away the rest.”

I eye him cautiously, wondering if I dare bring this up now. “I have a new role-playing game I thought we could try.”

He arches an eyebrow, his hands tensing against the chair. “And what roles will we be playing?”

“Something radical,” I tell him. “Friends.”

He leans back in his chair, the stiffness gone from his shoulders. “Friends, huh? That is extreme.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I think—given the circumstances—it’s in this baby’s best interests that we get along. I know it’ll be hard, but⁠—”

“Why would it be hard?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Well, I thought it might be… a strange concept for you.”

He tilts his head and his eyes disappear behind a veil of shadow. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and even less of an idea how he’s feeling.

“Being friends with you wouldn’t be a hardship for me,” he says quietly. I search for the punchline in his tone, but it appears to be all sincerity. “You make it easy.”

“I… I do?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen someone who so many people take to so quickly.” He waves to the bungalow behind him. “Including my best friend and his entire family. Not to mention my housekeeper and her son.”

“You’re leaving out a few key players,” I point out. “Your mother, for one. And your uncle. They aren’t exactly singing my praises from the mountaintop.”

“My uncle is an asshole. And my mother is a bitch.”

I suppress the snort of laughter. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t mean it all of the time. But I definitely mean it some of the time. Oksana Pavlova is a stone-cold bitch when she wants to be. How do you think she survived this kind of life?”

“She’s a badass,” I correct. “I think you have to be if you want to survive. Too many people took advantage of me over the years because they saw my friendliness as weakness.”

“Well, maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement.”

I frown. “Does it involve a contract?”

He smirks. “Just some old fashioned, good faith. We could give each other lessons. You teach me to be more open and friendly. And I’ll teach you to be a badass.”

I can’t help laughing. “You’re qualified to do that?”

“I know every trick in the book,” he reassures me with a wink. “You just have to watch and learn.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I reach into my trouser pocket and pull out my phone. “I wanted to share something else with you.”

He waits patiently until I’ve opened the pregnancy app I installed shortly after my first doctor’s appointment.

“I found this app that helps you track your pregnancy. I was thinking of adding you to the users tab so that you can follow along, too.”

His eyes widen. “That sounds… personal.”

“Call it a gesture of—what did you call it?—good faith. I thought it would help keep us on the same page.”

I hand him my phone and he takes it gingerly, still looking shell-shocked by the idea. He starts scrolling through the features.

“What is this folder?”

“Just things we’ll need for the baby. Strollers, clothes, diapers… I’ve put down my preferences and once I add your name to the user list, you’ll be able to add your preferences, too.”

“I see,” he mutters, continuing to scroll. “You’ve been busy.”

“I get overwhelmed easily,” I flush. “Apps like these are my jam. They help me compartmentalize. I can put things in neat little folders and access them whenever I want. That’s why I started journaling, too.” I point to the tiny little diary icon at the bottom left corner of the screen. “I’ve recorded a bunch of messages for the baby on there. It’s like an audio diary of thoughts.”

Oleg lifts his eyes to mine. “You’d let me hear this?”

“Yes. You’re the baby’s father and I have nothing to hide.”

He holds my gaze for a few seconds longer than usual. The air between us feels charged.

“Thank you,” he says at last, breaking the kinetic energy between us.

I swallow, trying to summon up the courage to discuss my next point of order with him. I’ve been contemplating this for days now.

But now, I’m finally ready to put it into action.

“There’s something else I want to ask you,” I start nervously. “It’s about my sister. I would like to see her. I think she wants to see me, too. But she can’t leave her own home, much less Las Vegas, because her boyfriend—if you can even call him that—is a freaking psychopath. I’m starting to think she might be in real danger and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I did nothing.”

He’s very quiet, studying me with those liquid gold eyes. “What are you asking me, Sutton?”

I can feel my throat closing up. “I-I’m asking… for your help,” I say. “To bring Sydney down to Nassau. Or to maybe get some money across to her so that she can get here herself.”

I don’t expect the reaction I get.

Which is a stark silence that seems to stretch on for ages.

When Oleg finally speaks, his tone is laced with regret, but it doesn’t soften the sting from his words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sutton.”

“But… why?” I blurt out, trying hard not to sound like I’m begging.

Even though I’m completely prepared to beg if that’s what it takes.

“There’s a lot of politics involved,” he mutters, white-knuckling the chair. “Lots of moving parts that I can’t mess with right now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask. “You’re just spewing words! Words that don’t mean anything. If you’re turning me down, I want to know why. Or don’t you trust me anymore?”

Oleg sighs. “Paul Lipovsky is in deep with the Martineks. The same people your boyfriend⁠—”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I correct.

He acknowledges that with a small incline of his head. “My point is, I have a plan in the works that will take down Lipovsky and his entire network.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with my sister?”

“Extricating your sister now would be putting my plan in jeopardy,” he says. “It might tip off Lipovsky earlier than necessary, put him on guard, encourage him to prepare for what’s coming. I’m not planning on giving him a heads-up.”

Angry tears scald my eyes. “So, you’re happy to keep my sister trapped under his abusive roof for God knows how long because saving her might interfere with your takedown plan?”

“I know it sounds harsh⁠—”

“‘Harsh’?” I practically shriek, wringing my hands together to stop myself from itching my skin clean off. “It’s fucking cruel, Oleg!”

This is the one thing I’ve ever truly asked him. And he’s turning me down for what?

The sake of his business? His empire? His pride?

“I will help your sister,” he insists. “But it’ll take time⁠—”

“What you’re saying is, you’ll help her only when it’s convenient to you, when it doesn’t interfere with your great plans.”

“Sutton—”

“You would do it for your sister!” I erupt. “You wouldn’t bat an eyelid if this were your sister we were talking about.”

His silence makes me wonder if I’ve gone a step too far. Maybe bringing up his dead sister was below the belt.

I’m still not prepared to take it back, though.

When I twist around, he gets slowly to his feet. I’m expecting him to walk away. If he does, I’m locked and loaded with curses to shout at his back.

Luckily, I don’t have to.

Oleg walks over towards me. “You’re right,” he says softly. “If there was even a small chance I could have saved my sister, I would have. Plans, power, and pride be damned.”

“It’s no less than what I would do for my sister,” I tell him. “It’s the only reason I would ask you for help. It’s the only reason I’d ask you for anything.”

“I understand that⁠—”

“Do you? Because you seem to be implying that your sister is important but mine is not.”

His eyes flash. “My sister is dead, Sutton. And she’s dead because of me.”

I veer back, shocked at the blackness in his eyes, chasing away all the warmth on his face.

Before I can respond, before he can explain, we notice car lights in the distance as the black gates start to slide apart.

“Jesse’s back,” I mumble as Oleg steps away from me.

“I’ll say goodnight then.”

He doesn’t make eye contact before he starts walking away.

He doesn’t look back, either.

My heart sinks as I watch him go, knowing that Sydney and I are truly on our own. I suppose the illusion that we weren’t was just wishful thinking on my part.

It was all in my head.

Along with the rest of all the things I’d just started daring to hope for.