Page 157 of Dirty Damage

“No, ma’am. But he left this for you.”

The note is tiny. Just a scrap of paper, really. But my hands shake as I unfold it.

Three words in Oleg’s bold scrawl:Don’t wait up.

45

OLEG

I grip the polished mahogany edge of the conference table, surveying the room. Every seat at the oval table is filled…

… except one.

The empty chair seems to mock my uncle’s absence, a stark reminder of the power play I’m about to unleash.

It’s been days of early mornings and late nights, poring over spreadsheets, surveillance footage, IP information. The only time I’ve turned my brain off is when I crash into bed next to Sutton and pull her into me.

Some nights, we don’t even fuck; we just lie in the dark whispering about everything and nothing at all.

Occasionally, I catch something deep in her blue eyes. Something like worry. I want to reassure her, tell her I’ve got things under control.

But I’ve never been big on false comfort. I don’t want to make any promises until I’m sure.

Which is why I’m here now.

Fifteen minutes ago, I laid out my plan to Artem. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he saw the stack of documents proving Boris’s attempted deal with the Martineks.

Now, my best friend stands in the corner of the boardroom, arms crossed, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

He knows what’s coming.

My mother’s phone buzzes on the table in front of her. She reads it and sits tall, her blood-red lipstick a slash of war paint across her sharp features.

“Boris is on his way.”

A few moments later, the heavy double doors swing open. Boris marches in, flanked by his two pet assistants. His complexion has the gray pallor of week-old fish left to rot.

“What is the meaning of this, Oleg? Only I have the authority to call emergency board meetings.”

“Actually, I do as well,” Oksana says, rising to her feet.

Boris’s eyes narrow. “True. But it’s a power you’ve never used before.”

“I suppose I was waiting for a good reason.” My mother adjusts her tan lapel with precise fingers. “And now, I have one.”

His gaze darts between us. “Was it necessary to involve the entire board in this?”

“They can be the judges of that.” My mother’s smile is frozen and jagged. “Take a seat, Boris. Oleg has the floor.”

I don’t wait for him to sit. The stack of documents in my hand might as well be loaded ammunition, and I’m about to start firing.

This is about the company. About my future.

But Sutton is in my head, too. Her shy smile as she kissed me goodbye this morning, the way she breathed my name while I was inside of her last night.

The thought of her fuels me.

It’s not justmyfuture I’m fighting for…

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