Dirty Grovel: Chapter 49

I don’t understand a damn word of what they’re saying.

But I don’t have to understand to be afraid.

Oksana’s icy alto dances around Oleg’s rough baritone. It’s like glass forming and shattering again and again as they argue.

My skin crawls with anxiety as I lean forward on the staircase, listening, trembling.

Ironically, it’s Oksana who indulges me as she switches into acid-drenched English.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she calls to Oleg’s back as he walks away from her.

“Somewhere in this house where I can’t hear your fucking voice.”

He charges out of the foyer and Oksana’s fingers curl into claws that look like they could gouge a man’s eyes out before she goes striding after him.

Ignoring the permanent shiver running up my spine, I tiptoe down the stairs and follow their raised voices into the kitchen.

Both are standing with their backs to me, so I take the opportunity to shuffle fast into the pantry where the angled slats give me a view of the kitchen without revealing my presence.

Oleg spins around with a tumbler of vodka clutched in his hand. The crystalline liquid sloshes around wildly, spilling over the lip as Oleg gestures at his mother.

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture tonight, Maman. I suggest you go back to your own home.”

“While my son’s house is on fire?” she replies. “I think not.”

Oleg takes a swig of vodka. His eyes are red-rimmed, his gestures jarring, broken, sloppy.

His cracks are splayed out in front of me, ready for viewing.

I feel sick. He’d never want me to see this.

“Fuck,” he thunders. “It’s hot in here.”

He sets down the tumbler long enough to rip his shirt off. A pantheon of muscles stares back at me. For a moment, I can swear I hear a chorus in the background, the voices of a dozen angels raised in praise for the man I’m ogling with pathetic longing.

Maybe it’s when things are at their breaking point that they look the most beautiful to me.

“Look at you!” Oksana rages at him. “Look at the state of you. You’ve survived far worse than this and yet, that pint-sized pantomime has managed to reduce you to nothing.”

“Enough,” Oleg snarls, grabbing his tumbler again. “I’ve done my duty tonight. I buried the fucker, I made a sad speech, I looked suitably mournful, I shook every fucking hand in that cathedral⁠—”

“And yet still, you managed to come up short,” Oksana hisses, her black skirt swishing with every step she makes.

Even rumpled and tipsy, the two of them look like royalty.

By comparison, I’m the court jester who can’t walk in a straight line without tripping over.

Give me a big red nose and a funny hat and my transformation will be complete.

“I’m done talking,” Oleg booms, his presence looming over Oksana. “All I want to do is sit here and have a fucking drink.”

But she doesn’t give him the chance to do that. Bolder than I’d ever be, she reaches up and snatches the drink from his grasp.

Vodka splashes onto her black dress, but for once, she doesn’t seem to care.

Face skewed in an awful grimace, she raises the drink high in the air. “You want to drink? Fine. We’ll fucking drink. Here’s a toast: To my son and his crumbling empire. I didn’t think it was possible to destroy what your father built so quickly. But once again, you’ve proven me wrong.”

“Don’t…”

But Oksana has just gotten started. She circles the countertop like an angry vulture, her eyes reduced to flat, backlit disks under the kitchen lights.

“Raise your glass to the choice you made that set the ship on fire.”

I freeze, eyes widening from the sheer cruelty of her casually flung words.

Oleg is a statue, riveted in place, speechless, motionless, heartless.

“Raise a glass to me, too. To motherhood. I’m so glad my son was able to put aside all that well-honed training, maturity, forethought and cunning I bred in him in order to choose a woman who not only makes him look weak, but is also enough of a liability that she has managed to drag down both him and his reputation in one fell swoop.”

My vision blurs behind a fog of tears. I try to brush them away but every time I do, there’s more to replace them.

Oleg finally moves.

But it’s only to crumble downwards.

The tension goes out of his jaw, his shoulders, his eyes. The cracks I see in him are widening. It’s terrifying to glimpse the heartbreak beneath.

He glances at his mother. “Are you done?”

Oksana raises her glass a little higher. “One last thing: A toast to Sutton Palmer—an unworthy, uneducated, uncultured, white trash gold-digger. Daughter of a father who abandoned her at birth and a mother who landed herself in prison. Sister to an idiotic killer. What a family. Truly, you chose well, son.”

Her words may as well be obsidian blades.

Each one draws blood.

Half-hoping and half-terrified, I wait for Oleg to defend me. I wait for his temper to explode on his mother’s cruelty so that she slinks back to her home and leaves us in peace.

But no explosion seems to be forthcoming. Oleg just sits there at the counter. Slumped. Broken.

“God,” he murmurs at last. “I’m so goddamn tired.”

A startled little gasp wrenches out of me. For a moment, I’m scared I’ve outed myself. Oksana’s gaze veers scarily close to the pantry.

But then her hawkish eyes turn back to Oleg.

Who continues to sit there, head lowered towards his tumbler of vodka as though he’s praying.

His silence confirms a fear that’s been building inside me for days now.

I’ve done this to him.

I’ve made his life infinitely harder.

I’m the poison that will rob him of everything he’s worked to build over the years.

Despite all my fears and reservations about Oleg and his world, despite my insecurities and worries, I do love him.

I love him more than I ever thought I could love a man.

Which means I have to protect him.

Even if that means protecting him from myself.

Faye pulls up outside the house fifteen minutes after I sent her my carefully worded text.

I make sure to throw my duffel into the trunk of the SUV before she’s gotten out of it. But her forehead is pinched at the bridge, her eyes scanning my face as though she’s searching for clues.

“Is everything alright, Sutton? You said you’d explain when I got here.”

“And I will… I just need some air first. Can we take a ride?”

Faye’s eyebrows rise, her gaze flickering past me towards the house. “Where’s Oleg?”

“Inside, sleeping. He was exhausted after today.”

“I would have thought you’d be, too.”

“I am… but I can’t stay in this house any longer.”

Her frown deepens. “Sutton, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything. Just not here. Can we go for a drive?”

Faye bites on her lower lip, her eyes darting back to the house again. But in the end, she nods and gestures for me to get in.

I’m aware that my plan is entirely dependent on Faye and our friendship. But I am hoping that, as new as our friendship may be, it’s strong enough for this.

Security stops Faye on the way out of the property. It’s Pavin on guard duty today. He’s on the older side, intensely loyal, and a stickler for the rules. I can tell he disapproves of our little late-night jaunt.

“Where are you heading, ma’am?” Pavin asks, looking past Faye to address me.

“To the Savins,” I answer brightly. “I need a little girl time. We might stop by an In ‘N’ Out first, though.” I rub my belly. “Cravings, you know.”

He offers me an uncertain smile. “Is Mr. Pavlov aware?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s drunk, so I doubt he’ll remember in the morning. But feel free to go in there and check with him if you like. You might have to wake him up, but I’m sure⁠—”

Pavin’s face pales. “No need, ma’am.” He gives the signal to open the gates.

Faye drives out, her calm breaking the moment we’ve cleared security. “Sutton Palmer, just what the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m sorry, Faye,” I whisper, dropping the act immediately. “I hate to involve you in this but you’re the only person I could trust.”

“Bullshit,” she retorts. “You didn’t call me because you trust me. You called me because I have security clearance.”

I flinch. “Can’t it be both?”

Faye takes the next right turn and then pulls the SUV to a stop on the side of a suburban street. “Okay, tell me straight: What are you planning? Because you’re not really coming to my place for a sleepover, are you?”

I shake my head.

Faye sighs, her eyes closing. “Fuck me,” she mutters. “I was really looking forward to that burger.” Her eyes fly open. “Where do you really want me to take you?”

“The harbor,” I tell her. “I’m going to book myself onto a boat heading to Nassau.”

“Nassau?!” Faye balks. “You’re leaving Palm Beach?”

“I have to. And this decision is not just for myself. It’s for Oleg, too. This is what’s best for both of us.”

“Says you.”

“Oleg would probably say it, too. If it weren’t for this baby, he’d be rid of me faster than you can say ‘trouble.’”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve brought him nothing but complications, Faye. Not even you can deny that. He’s on the brink of disaster and if I stick around, I’m only going to make it worse.”

“Is this about what happened today?” Faye asks shrewdly.

“No. Yes… I mean, it’s a little bit of everything. I ruined everything, Faye. I’m supposed to be an asset to Oleg. Instead, I ended up letting him down, embarrassing him, hurting him.”

Faye shakes her head at me. “Someone’s gotten in your head.”

I bite my lip. “Please, Faye. I know this is a lot to ask but… I have no one else.”

Faye’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. Then her eyes flicker to the ring on my finger. “You can’t just run away, Sutton. You’re engaged!”

I take the ring off and hand it to her. “Not anymore.”

She freezes. “You don’t mean that?”

“I do. I’ve never been more certain in my life. This is the best thing for all parties. If I disappear, Oleg will eventually find a nice, appropriate girl to marry, Oksana will be happy, and the entire Bratva will benefit from it.”

“Honestly,” Faye hisses, “what have you been smoking? Oksana will never be happy, no matter who Oleg picks. And Oleg is not just going to pick some other woman. He’s going to tear the world apart until he finds out. If you’re going to Nassau, he won’t have to look very long.”

“The plan is to hide in plain sight,” I say. “Besides, I’m in contact with Jesse. She has a job lined up for me. I can earn some money, get independent, and… take it from there.”

Faye looks at me as though I’ve just sprouted a second head. “This is not gonna work, Sutton.”

I grab Faye’s arm. “Please—you’re the only one who can help me.”

She sighs heavily. Then both of her hands touch mine. “Are you sure about this, hon?”

I place a palm on my belly and sigh.

There are some stories that just aren’t meant to have happy endings.

There are some beasts who can’t keep their princesses.

It’s not what I want.

But I know it’s what I have to do.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m sure.”