Page 31 of Dirty Grovel

Jesse nods. “Maybe. But we still wouldn’t have been a couple. Which meant we would have had to co-parent Teo, and co-parenting is never easy, especially between two people who are practically strangers.”

I swallow hard, feeling the burn in my throat. She makes a very good point. Not that I can benefit from it anymore.

Then again, Oleg isn’t sure that this baby is even his.

Maybe if I can convince him of that fact, I can earn my freedom. I can release myself from the contracts that will bind me to Oleg for the rest of our lives.

I won’t have to co-parent with a man who thinks the worst of me.

“Sutton?” Jesse interjects. “Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?”

I pick my expression up off the floor. “No, not at all,” I rush to assure her. “I’m just… preoccupied. I need to find a good OBGYN and I have no idea how to go about it in Nassau. Can you help me?”

“Of course!” she says enthusiastically. “And I know just the person. I’ll hook you up.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, meeting Jesse’s eyes, wondering how much I can trust a woman who has worked for Oleg for years.

“What?” she presses.

“Can I trust this doctor?” I wonder out loud.

The question I’m really asking is,Can I trust anyone?

But then Jesse lays a hand on my forearm and looks at me with all the kindness in the world.

“Yes,” she says quietly, fervently, hopefully. “I believe you can.”

My third attempt at conversation is shot down yet again by another scowl.

You’d think that Oleg would be happier, considering we’re staring at a lobster main course, courtesy of Jesse’s expert cooking skills.

But apparently, neither the lobster nor the spectacular view from the terrace are making the slightest bit of difference.

“Is something bothering you?”

His gaze slides down to my body.

I’m wearing another bikini, because the room I’m sleeping in is replete with them, and a skimpy cover-up that, again, doesn’t cover up much.

“You’re going to catch a chill dressed like that,” he snaps.

I suppress a smile, subtly proud that I’m able to get a rise out of him so easily.

“I run hot,” I declare, pulling up my cover-up the tiniest bit so that he gets an eyeful of naked thigh. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about you,” he retorts. “I’m worried about my baby.”

“You’re not sure it’s your baby yet, remember?” I remind him coldly.

His scowl freezes. Then he looks out over the terrace, towards the bright greens and blues blinking at us from the ocean.

“Have you found a doctor yet?” he asks gruffly.

“I’m working on it.”

“You have until the end of the week to find one or else I’m going to have to step in.”

I pick at my plate, distracted by something that I really shouldn’t care about at all. “Why is the walk-in closet in my room filled with women’s clothes?”

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