Page 106 of Dirty Damage

My hand twitches at my side. “Why are you really doing this?”

“Because contrary to what you might think, I did care about you. Still do.” He steps closer, invading my space with the practiced ease of someone who used to own it. “And maybe I don’t like seeing Pavlov’s hands all over what used to be mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes my skin crawl. “I was never yours.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He presses the phone into my palm, his fingers lingering against my skin. “But we both know different, don’t we?”

I snatch my hand back, but I keep the phone. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach like lead.

Oleg would hate this. Hate that I’m taking anything from Drew. Hate that I’m keeping secrets.

But Sydney…

“Weekly updates,” I demand, my voice hard. “And if anything happens to her?—”

“You’ll be the first to know.” He backs away, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “See you around, sunshine.”

I watch him disappear down the aisle, the burner phone scorching a hole in my pocket. The weight of it feels like betrayal.

I should’ve bought the ice cream.

All of it.

Something tells me I’m going to need it.

30

OLEG

I’m more than happy to ignore the five-foot-nothing blonde stalking me from behind the elliptical. The reason I come to the Pavlov Industries gym at the same time every day is because no one else is ever here.

Working out with the boss isn’t relaxing for them, I guess, so I get the place to myself and don’t have to talk to anyone, whichisrelaxing for me.

It’s better than going back to the penthouse and enduring the silence there.

I saved Sutton.

I beat the shit out of Drew.

I took care of the problem and everything should be better now… but something is wrong with Sutton.

If she was anyone else, I’d be grateful for the break from her constant humming and chatter. Or I’d torture answers out of her.

But she isn’t anyone else.

I have to be patient and let her come to me.

Unfortunately, the only woman coming to me is a petite blonde.

She shifts closer, knocking into the dumbbell rack to her right. A twenty-pound weight plummets to the padded floor, but in the cavernous space, it sounds like a gunshot.

“If you’re going to skulk,” I say without turning around, “you should be quieter.”

She emerges from her hiding spot, cheeks flushed pink. I recognize her immediately as one of the daycare workers. She’s a friend of my… fiancée. The word still feels strange, even in my head.

She straightens her spine. “Sorry about that, but I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time… sir.”

I towel off the sweat on my face and hang it around my neck. “You’re Sutton’s friend.”

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