Page 150 of Dirty Damage

To handle whatever is bothering him alone.

Oleg wanted to hurt me so I’d leave the way everyone else has, and if I give him what he wants, I won’t be giving him what heneeds.

Which is why I’m scooping risotto into two bowls, trying to keep my hands from trembling. I didn’t just cook for him—definitely not because he said it was all I was good for.

I’m doing it forus. For this fragile thing growing between us that has nothing to do with contracts or obligations.

I find him on the bow, a dark silhouette against the star-scattered horizon. His broad shoulders are rigid with tension as I approach.

Part of me thinks this was a stupid idea and I should scurry back below deck and eat risotto alone in the dark of my cabin, but I force myself forward.

I extend the bowl like a peace offering and he eyes it warily, eyebrow arched.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His jaw tightens. “I wouldn’t blame you if it was.”

Well, that’s progress. It’s a small win, but I’m going to need more.

“Is that supposed to be an apology? Because if it is, you need to work on your delivery.” I take a step away from him, tearing my eyes from the sharp line of his jaw. I can’t let myself soften until he makes the effort and meets me halfway.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t nudge the door open.

“Did your presentation this morning not go well?”

He stiffens. “How did you?—”

“The walls at your penthouse aren’t soundproof, Oleg. And contrary to what you might think, I’m not completely self-absorbed. I know today was important.”

He takes a bite of risotto, chewing slowly. The moonlight catches the scars on his face, making them look deeper, older somehow.

“Boris sabotaged me. He hacked my servers, doctored my numbers, and made me look like a fucking amateur in front of the board.”

The bitterness in his voice makes me flinch. “And your mother?”

“Abstained from voting. As usual.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “The great Oksana Pavlov, forever refusing to choose between her son and her own neck.”

“I’m sorry.”

The words feel inadequate. The person who should love him more than anyone in the world won’t stand behind him. I don’t know how to apologize for that.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault my family’s fucked up.” He sets the bowl down, turning to face me fully. “Which is why I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The things I said?—”

“—were cruel,” I finish for him. “And hurtful. And unnecessary.”

“I know.” His eyes lock with mine. “There’s so much at stake here. If I don’t secure my position, if I don’t prove I can lead both the company and the Bratva…” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “You would be— Our child would have no protection. No legacy. Nothing but enemies waiting to strike.”

The weight of what he’s saying settles over me like a shroud.

This isn’t just about business or pride.

It’s about survival. About ensuring our future child has a place in this dangerous world he inhabits.

But understanding doesn’t equal forgiveness. Not yet.

“I get it,” I say quietly. “But if you ever speak to me like that again, I’m gone. Contract or no contract.”

His eyes darken, jaw working as he processes my ultimatum.

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