Page 116 of Dirty Damage

He doesn’t sugar-coat it. “You’re trying not to be noticed. By people in general, but especially by men. You’ve gotten used to hiding behind baggy clothes because you think you’ll be safer that way.”

The observation stings because it’s true. Because in the weeks I’ve known him, he’s seen straight through every wall I’ve built.

“That’s not true,” I lie, but my voice wavers.

He gives me a look that’s equal parts understanding and challenge. “I’ve never seen a woman like you so intent on hiding her assets rather than showing them off.” His eyes soften. “You realize women go under the knife to get—” He gestures at me with both hands, encapsulating every blushing bit of me.

“Aren’t we supposed to be going somewhere?” I cut him off, staring straight ahead.

“Sure, we are.” He dangles a fancy silver key fob in front of me. “Just as soon as you take the wheel.”

“You want me to drive?”

“Why not? It’s your car.”

My heart stops. Literally stops. “My what?”

He nods, completely serious. “You need your own vehicle. Something safe. Something that can protect you.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t like the idea of you being dependent on drivers,especially after what happened with Drew following you. You need to be able to get wherever you need to go.”

The mention of my ex should kill the moment, but instead, it only highlights how different Oleg is.

Drew used my dependence on him like an anchor.

Oleg’s trying to give me wings.

I run my fingers over the butter-soft leather seat. “This is too much.”

“This isn’t about money.” He catches my chin, turns my face toward his. “This is about knowing you can come and go as you please. That you’re safe. That you have control.”

Something warm blooms in my chest, expanding and stretching to the tips of my toes.

“Take the keys, princess.” His voice is rough. “Let me do this for you.”

A million things I can’t say bubble up, and I swallow them down. Gently, I take the keys from him and get out of the car.

I practically skip around to the driver’s side, suddenly unable to contain my grin.

The leather is warm from his body and it cradles me as I slide behind the wheel. Everything gleams—the dash, the console, the chrome detailing.

“This is incredible,” I breathe, running my hands over the steering wheel. “I’ve never driven anything this nice.”

“That’s because you’ve never been my fiancée before. My fiancée deserves only the best.” He programs the GPS while I familiarizemyself with the controls, trying to tamp down the hope buzzing in my bones.

He cares—about my safety and my happiness. Maybe even about me?

I start the engine, and it purrs to life like a satisfied cat. “Thank you, Oleg. Really. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s a necessary part of our little pantomime.”

Just like that, the warm bubble of happiness around me pops, letting in the cold reality I’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

None of this is real.

The car, the engagement, the way he seems to understand exactly what I need—it’s all just an elaborate show. Method acting at its finest.

“Is that what we’re doing?” My voice comes out steady even as my hands tighten on the wheel. “Playing pretend?”

“And we’re doing a damn good job.”

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