Page 75 of Dirty Damage

Never one for subtlety, my uncle.

He settles into a throne-like chair beneath a snarling lion and gestures to his bar cart. “Help yourself.”

I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and claim a seat beneath an eagle with bared talons. The lights strung overhead cast deep shadows of my uncle’s lined face.

His eyes are empty sockets, dead and empty.

I take a sip and raise my glass to him. “Very nice.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He fingers his own glass, his eyes fixed on me. “You usually have such discerning taste. I thought in all matters, but… after seeing your engagement announcement, I may have been wrong about that.”

I expected this, but my fingers still tighten around my crystal tumbler. “You do not approve?”

“Sutton.” He spits her name. “Slutton would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it? She’s trash. I know it. You know it. The entire fucking company knows it.”

“Did you spend all day coming up with that nickname?”

“Is her pussy that magical?” His lips curl, and I want to rip them from his face. “Does she have an enchanted throat that fried your brain? That’s the only explanation for?—”

“Don’t say another word.” I swear I feel the crystal flex in my palm, and I set it aside before I stab a shard into my uncle’s carotid. “She is young, beautiful, and will make an excellent mother. That’s all you need to know.”

“What about breeding? Class? Education?” Boris sneers. “I know a hundred women more suitable?—”

“My choice is made. The announcement is public.” I lean forward, letting him look into my eyes and see the violence I’m capable of. “Sutton Palmer will be my wife. She’ll be the mother of my children. If you ever disrespect her again, they’ll be fishing pieces of you out of your precious marina for weeks.”

“You forget yourself, nephew. I’m thepakhan.”

The breeze carries the scent of salt water and makes my uncle shiver. That, or something else has him shaking in his throne.

“I’m in charge,” he adds. “You answer to me. Disobey my orders or lose control of your white trash woman and heads will roll.”

“But whose head?”

“W-what?” he splutters.

“Power isn’t about titles, uncle. It’s about loyalty. And every man in this organization knows which of us would bleed beside them in a fight.” I unfurl a slow smile, flashing my canines as I stand. “If you’re smart, you’ll welcome my future wife with open arms. If you’re not… Well, like you said, one can’t be too careful these days.”

I leave him there, trembling beneath his stone lion.

My phone is already in my hand as I walk away.

OLEG:Meet me at the Pavlov Boatyard in half an hour, princess. It’s time we talked.

22

SUTTON

My cheap stilettos click against the marble floor of the lobby as I stride toward the elevator, fighting the urge to tear off this ridiculous dress and shove it deep in the trash.

What a waste of time and effort. An hour getting ready and amping myself up, all to have Oleg glance at me once before returning to his precious spreadsheets.

It felt good in the moment—yelling at him, standing my ground.

Then I left his office…

Got in the elevator… got back in the car… Let Uri drive me home…

… and nothing.

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