Page 161 of Dirty Grovel

“Ms. Palmer… where is she?”

“She’s at the Savins’, sir. Miss Faye picked her up last night.”

His words feel like a blow to the head. Not least because I know it can’t possibly be the truth.

There’s something final about her absence.

Something permanent.

But fuck if I’m going to accept that lying down.

I hang up on Pavel and call Faye. She picks up immediately, almost as though she’s been expecting my call.

“Yes, I broke her out last night,” she says instead of the traditional greeting. “And no, she’s not with me anymore.”

“I’m not mad,” I assure her. “I just need to know where she is now.”

Faye sighs. “I can’t tell you that, Oleg. I promised her.”

“Jesus Christ, Faye!” I growl.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I said I wasn’t mad. But you’re starting to change that.” I clench the phone harder. “She’s pregnant and alone, Faye. She can’t manage on her own.”

“She’s scrappier than you think.”

Squinting, I twist towards the gardens. “Do you honestly think I mean her any harm?” I ask. “She means fuckingeverythingto me.”

Faye hesitates, inhaling and exhaling nervously. “Is this for real or are you just trying to manipulate me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Faye, what do you think?”

Another breath.

Another pause.

Then… “She took a boat ride. I’m sure you can guess where.”

I hang up and send instructions to ready the jet. The princess can run.

But unlike Lipovsky, I’ll be damned if I let her hide.

51

SUTTON

First, there was the princess bride.

Then there was the runaway bride.

Now, there’s me.

A wannabe princess with a stowaway in her belly and an engagement ring that her friend refused to take back.

I’m no bride.

I’m definitely not a princess.

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