Page 137 of Dirty Damage

I could tell him I was actually trying to leave said “wrong people,” but the possessiveness in his voice strikes a chord of defiance in my chest.

“I was havingfun. Maybe you’re too busy working to notice, but this is a party. I was just dancing with a nice guy and his wife.”

“‘Wife’?” He barks out a harsh laugh. “Is that what they told you?”

I replay our introductions and it was admittedly brief. We went from “hello” to grinding a bit too fast for specifics, but I’m not about to tell Oleg that.

“Francesca is Conti’s mistress,” he explains. “And that dipshit you were dancing with is her fuck boy.”

“Conti’s mistress…” I do my best to draw the tangled web in my mind, but it still doesn’t make sense. “But we met his wife! She’s here on the yacht.”

“Oligarchs have complicated social lives.” His lip curls. “It’s not for us to get in the middle of. Literallyorfiguratively.”

The champagne buzz is fading fast. “I… I didn’t know.”

“You would have if you’d asked me first.”

I bark out a laugh. “Well, you weren’t exactly around to ask, Oleg. I was alone for over an hour.”

“I can’t trust you to be alone? Do I need to order you to keep your hands to yourself while I’m conducting business? Do I need to cuff you?”

I jab him in the chest. “You have no right to order me to do anything.”

“That ring on your finger says otherwise.”

I gasp. “Then maybe I’ll take it off.”

I grab for the ring, but before I can twist it off my finger, Oleg closes the distance between us and snatches my hand. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His chest brushes against mine with every breath. The world has narrowed to this empty room, the thrum of my heart drowning out the music above deck.

“I may be your fiancée, but I’m not your property, Oleg. You don’t own me. I can make my own decisions.”

He folds my hand in his, pinning it between our chests. His heart thunders against the back of my hand. “You’re in my world, princess. These people… They want more from you than you understand. Those two wanted to take you to bed.”

“They wanted to dance!”

“They wanted tofuckyou.” His voice descends into a growl that vibrates through my bones. “They like inviting thirds into their bed. They propositioned me at a party last year.”

An image of Oleg tangled up with Francesca while Antonio watches fills my head, and I hurry to shove it down.

I feel sick. Jealous over something that never even happened.

And that’s when it hits me.

I look into his dark eyes, shimmering with rage and something else, something possessive. “You’rejealous.”

His brows jump in surprise before he grinds out a condescending laugh.

“It’s true!” I pull my hand away from his. I’m pressed against the wall, so there’s nowhere to escape to, but I lean back to give myself more space. “You are! You didn’t like seeing us dancing together.”

“I didn’t like seeing you acting like some innocent little lamb in a pack of hungry fucking wolves.” He reaches for my chin,but I swat his hand away. “You’re going to be my wife, Sutton. You have to know who these people are and what they want from you. Everything comes with strings and everything has consequences.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Like how dancing with another man comes with the consequences of making Oleg very jealous.”

His nostrils flare as he looms over me, blotting out the dimmed lights in the ceiling. “You think I’m jealous?”

“I don’t have to think about it. I can see it in your eyes.” I meet his glare head-on. “You didn’t like me dancing with Antonio. And not just because I’m your ‘fiancée,’ not just because of what people will think. But because of what you felt when you saw me with him.”

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