Page 93 of Dirty Damage

My mother’s voice shatters the moment. I hide my sigh with a sip of my whiskey. “There’s no such thing.”

“There certainly is.” She slides into my periphery, impossible to ignore. “She isn’t one of us, and she’s making that obvious.Theyshould be trying to become friends withus. Not the other way around. She’s making us look desperate.”

“‘Desperate’ was you telling me to pick a woman—anywoman.”

“I assumed you had more sense than this,” she spits. “I assumed you had standards.”

I place my empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and turn to her. “I do, which is why I never would’ve married any of the women you chose for me.”

Her cheeks flush with anger—the only sign that she has a heart at all. “Is this some kind of rebellion? Did you choose Sutton just to upset me?”

“Believe it or not, Maman, I’m a grown man and my decisions have nothing to do with you. I need a wife and an heir to claim what’s mine. I found one.”

“You need my support to overthrow your uncle,” she hisses. “Thatwas the deal. Or are you forgetting that you still need me?”

Maybe at one point that was true. But watching Sutton not just survive but thrive… The two of us together might be stronger than I anticipated.

“Uncle Boris isn’t even here tonight. Looks like I might be well on my way to taking his place already.”

She smiles as a woman dripping in diamonds and unbearable perfume squeezes her shoulder as she passes, then waits until the woman is gone before she leans in close. “He’s still the head of this Bratva. You can’t afford to alienate him this early.”

“You underestimate me.”

“Only because I know how impulsive and reckless you can be.” Each word is a precise strike between my ribs, finding old wounds easily, effortlessly.

I deserve the pain.

I deserve every reminder of the two lives that were lost because of me.

Still, I square my shoulders. “I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve learned to handle myself.”

“I thought so, too.”

The icy tone in her voice makes it clear enough what she thinks. But I don’t care.

Gritting my teeth, I throw myself into the crowd. I move fast enough to discourage people from stopping me.

I shouldn’t have let her get to me. Rookie mistake to even give her the window of opportunity. Oksana Pavlova never misses a chance to pour salt in an open wound.

I blow past people, not slowing as they say my name or try to offer congratulations. I don’t stop until I finally see Sutton, cornered by…

My ex-girlfriend.

Fuck.

Calling Andrea Montgomery my girlfriend is a stretch. We fucked for a month before I cut her loose and never spoke to her again.

Until now, apparently.

I approach from behind, so Andrea can’t see me as she practically hisses at my fiancée, “Working withchildren… Why on earth would you want to do that?” She throws her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder, spraying her sickly-sweet perfume like the skunk she is.

For the first time all night, Sutton isn’t smiling. She’s staring Andrea down like she’s deciding where to land the first punch. “I happen to like children. And they like me, too.”

“I guess that makes sense. Children are always getting into places they don’t belong. You probably have a lot in common with them.”

The jab lands. Sutton flinches but doesn’t retreat.

Fight back, I’m silently roaring at her.Don’t take this lying down.

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