Page 160 of Dirty Damage

“You need to be patient with yourself,” I tell her.

“It’s hard to be patient when I know you’re waiting for me to give you good news.” Her eyes finally meet mine in the mirror, swimming with tears. “Like you said, you don’t exactly have time to spare, do you?”

I grit my teeth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s good to know where you stand.”

“Come here,” I extend my hand, fighting to keep my voice even despite the rage building in my chest. Not at her—never at her—but at myself, at this whole fucked-up situation.

I planned to come home and celebrate again with her, but she needs something else from me.Deservessomething else.

She eyes my hand like it might burn her. “I… I’m okay right here.”

“Don’t make me come get you, princess.”

Her lips start trembling. “If you touch me right now, I’m going to burst into tears.”

“So then burst.” I meet her eyes in the mirror, unflinching. “I’ll wipe away every goddamn tear.”

“That’s not your job.”

That fucking contract.The urge to find it and tear it to shreds nearly overwhelms me.

Instead, I stalk toward her, my hands going to the buttons of her blouse.

“What are you doing?” she asks, not resisting as I start to strip her with methodical precision.

“You need to calm down. Since you’re clearly in the mood to fight me on this, we’re starting with a bath.”

She falls silent, letting me undress her completely. When she’s naked, I guide her to the floating tub and start the water.

While it fills, I undress efficiently, never taking my eyes off her.

The vulnerability in her posture makes my chest ache. She looks small, fragile—everything she’s not.

My Sutton is a fighter. A survivor.

I slide into the tub behind her, pulling her back against my chest. She’s stiff at first, her breath coming in short bursts that tell me she’s still fighting tears.

I ignore that and start massaging her scalp, working my fingers through her silk-soft hair until I feel her shoulders start to relax. The lavender-scented steam rises around us.

“I need to clarify something,” I say finally, keeping my voice low and controlled. “And I need you to actually hear me this time.”

She tenses again. “Okay.”

“You seem to think I’m disappointed somehow. That you’ve failed me.” I tighten my arms around her. “Let me be crystal fucking clear: I’m not, and you haven’t. The only thing disappointing me right now is seeing you tear yourself apart over this.”

“But this weekend on the yacht?—”

“I was an overbearing asshole,” I cut her off. “It was a bad day for me. But you pulled me out of it.”

She sniffs. “You’re just being kind.”

I snort, the sound echoing off the marble walls. “That’s something I’ve never been accused of before.”

“You like to pretend you’re some unfeeling brute who doesn’t give a shit about other people, but I know that’s not true, Oleg.”

The way she says my name does something to my chest I don’t want to examine too closely.

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