Page 92 of Dirty Damage

We kept her waiting.Strike one.

I open my mouth to bite back and earn us a strike two, but Sutton steps forward. “That’s my fault. I was running a little late.”

“Then get dressed earlier.” It’s not a joke, but Oksana lets out a tinkling laugh anyway.

Sutton’s smile falters and I pull her into my side to keep myself from doing something stupid. “We’re the guests of honor, Maman. We’re supposed to make a grand entrance.”

“Yes, but you can’t make a grand entrance once everyone has gone home,” she mutters through thin lips.

She turns back to the ballroom, her face transforming into a mask of pure delight. The change is so jarring it’s almost demonic.

Sutton squeezes my arm. “You didn’t introduce me.”

“She already knows who you are, Sutton.”

“But I don’t know her,” she whispers. “I’m here to get to know her.”

Sweet, naive little thing.

If only it were that simple.

“You were scared of sharks in this ocean, but this is where they really live. You’re here to show them you know how to swim.”

My mother raises a crystal flute, tapping it with a gold-plated knife. The room is turning to us and I’m going to have scars from how tightly Sutton is holding onto me.

“But Idon’tknow how to swim, Oleg. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to?—”

“The happy couple!” My mother turns to us as the room erupts in applause.

I pry Sutton’s fingers from my arm and place a hand on her lower back, pushing her forward and hoping I’m not chumming the water.

“Pretend.”

Whether my mother likes it or not, Sutton is charming.

Her self-deprecation puts the women at ease. Her warm smile and unbelievable body keep the men interested until I level them with a glare fitting of my nickname.

And my mother doesn’t like it.

Not any of it.

Not at all.

It’s good for the family that Sutton can hold her own here, but the scowl my mother has worn most of the night lets me know she’d rather be right than pleasantly surprised.

She’d rather watch Sutton stumble and fall.

She’d rather I stand in the center of this party and publicly end my engagement than have to admit that I made the correct call with my selection.

But watching Sutton breeze through the party, making friends and playing nice, IknowI made the right call.

I don’t need my mother’s approval.

Sutton is standing at the bar, saying something that has Desiree Franco in a fit of laughter. The woman owns a chain of high-end lingerie boutiques across the country, and I make a mental note to order Sutton something from each of them.

Starting now, any friend of my fiancée is a friend of mine.

“She’s trying too hard.”

---