Page 168 of Dirty Damage

Then I burst into bitter laughter.

49

OLEG

The ocean calls to me.

It would be so fucking easy to disappear into that endless blue horizon. Nothing but salt air and ghosts for company.

No complications.

No responsibilities.

No betrayals.

But I didn’t build an empire by running from my problems.

The uneven tap of expensive Italian leather on marble announces Boris’s arrival before he appears. No doubt his bootlicking assistants warned him I was waiting in his office. Probably pissing themselves as they delivered the news.

I turn away from the window as he sweeps in with his trademark arrogance, a calculated smile stretched across his face. The sickly pallor from our last board meeting has been replaced by his usual ruddy complexion.

He’s looking far too pleased with himself.

“Boris.” I keep my voice flat, controlled.

He gives me a wide berth as he circles toward his desk. “Nephew, what a nice surprise. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Perhaps something stronger—vodka?”

My lip curls. “How about an explanation?”

He lets out an affected little laugh as he settles into the leather throne behind his big, antique desk.

We both know it’s just for show—the only thing Boris does at that desk is stroke his ego.

“Really, Oleg. Ask the questions you actually want answers to. Stop wasting both our time with this passive-aggressive dance.”

One clean shot to that smug face would knock him out cold. A little extra force and the sorry bastard might never get up again.

The thought is far too tempting, especially with the rage still burning in my gut from this morning’s conversation with Artem.

I force thoughts of Sutton away.

Not now.

“You chose to betray the company, the family, your brother’s legacy—all for what? For power?”

“For what’s rightfully mine,” he hisses, dropping the fake smile. “For what I built and maintained after your father’s death.”

“You built nothing.” The words come out as a growl. “You just took credit for his work.”

Boris waves his hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve always been more brawn than brains. An arrogant child who feels entitled to Daddy’s empire.”

“I feel entitled to nothing,” I spit. “I worked for everything I have. That surveillance system?—”

“—is vanity!” He cuts me off. “Nothing but an ego trip. Did you really think I would sink millions into a venture concocted by the same reckless fool who got his sister killed? The same tragedy that drove your father to an early grave? You might as well have killed him yourself.”

Ice spreads through my veins, freezing the rage. The accusation has always lingered between us, unspoken.

I thought I was ready for it.

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