Page 37 of Dirty Grovel

But there are still a few hard nuts to crack.

Boris loyalists who are terrified of incurring his wrath by siding with me. And in order to oust the head board member, the vote has to be unanimous.

So now, I find myself in the delicate position of having to present proof that Boris and the Martineks had explicitly and knowingly worked together to mount the attack on me.

I’m contemplating possibilities in my head when I come up for air after my fiftieth lap.

Instead of the breath of fresh oxygen I’m looking for, I get smacked with a wave of water right in the face.

“Fuck,” I gasp, coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out where the source of the attack came from.

Squinting through my smarting eyes, I make out a perfect silhouette doused in golden light and dressed in a tiny black bikini.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” I mutter. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“You wanna know what my problem is?” she asks, sending another wave of water at my face. “Youare my damn problem.”

Annoyed and completely in the dark about whatever it is that has got her all riled up, I return fire with fire and send a tidal surge of water right at her.

She’s not even in the pool, but by the time I’m done, she’s totally drenched.

“You asshole!”

“You started it.”

She reinforces that very mature point by hitting back at me with both hands. Water washes hard against my face and I return the favor.

Within seconds, it’s devolved into a full-on water fight.

Which would be cute—if we were ten years old. And/or actually having fun.

But a single glance at Sutton’s face makes it clear that she isnothaving fun. Not in the least.

She is pissed off.

She is foaming at the mouth.

And she wants to make me pay.

For what, I have no fucking clue.

But I’m glad that, at the very least, her armor of choice involves as little fabric as possible.

“Goddammit, Sutton, will you stop?”

“No!” she snaps, retaliating with another splash of water. “Screw you, Oleg Pavlov. Screw! You!”

Reaching my limit, I grab her wrist and drag her right into the pool with me. I hear a half-uttered curse before she disappears under the water.

When she bobs up again a second later, I can tell that I’ve only pissed her off further.

“Will you just calm the fuck down—” I order, grabbing her hands before she can start splashing me again. “—and tell me what’s wrong?”

Her breath heaves. Her jaw is set firmly, her eyes pinched.

Somewhere in the midst of her fall, her swimsuit has shifted. I can see her nipple peeking out from above the half-cup fabric of her bikini top.

“I know what you’ve been up to.”

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