Page 171 of Dirty Grovel

That was nearly a week ago now. And still, I have only barely begun to shake the horror of that day.

We flirted so closely to disaster that I can still taste the blood and smoke of a previous explosion.

Only one thing will give me peace: finding the men who did this and throttling them into the grave myself.

From the bedside table, my phone flashes silently. I kiss the nape of Sutton’s neck and drag myself from the bed. My body protests.

Blood thunders through my veins, straight to my cock.

“Oleg,” she murmurs, stretching towards my side of the bed. She squints at me, her eyes still thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

“I have some business to take care of, baby,” I murmur. “I’ll be with you in the morning.”

“No.” Her fingers clutch a fistful of my shirt. “No, stay in bed with me.”

My cock is desperate to comply. The rest of me? Not so much.

But out of the corner of my eye, I notice another flash from my phone.

“Soon, I will take you someplace far away,” I promise her. “Some where we can stay in bed all day and fuck all night.”

Her eyes flutter closed but she smiles. “Hm, that sounds wonderful.”

“But in order to do that, you need to let me go now.”

She pouts. “I don’t want to.”

I kiss her lips softly, but when she tries to deepen the kiss, I pull back. There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to stop this if it goes too far.

Another minute and I’m in serious danger of coming in my pants like a horny teenager.

“Tomorrow’s going to be all about you. But right now, I have to go.”

“Tomorrow’s all about me?”

“And the day after that. And the day after that one, too. Every day will be about you for the rest of our lives. But today… today is about making that possible.”

I steal one more kiss from her soft lips before I grab my phone and slip out of our bedroom. I follow the corridor lights downstairs to my office.

I’ve got several messages from my team. But the only one I open is Artem’s, delivered a minute ago.

ARTEM:I’m here.

My office is teeming with people when I stride in. Artem is standing over the largest computer, staring at ocean coordinates that I can’t make head or tail of.

“Took you long enough,” I remark.

He whirls around, a lopsided smile brightening his face. “It’s been a minute.”

“You were supposed to be here yesterday.” I punch him in the arm.

“Missed me?” He just chuckles louder at the death stare I give him. “I had to postpone it by a day because we got some interesting intel I had to corroborate.”

“It better be good.”

“Consider it an early wedding present from me,” Artem teases. “Before I get into that, though…” He points to the footage on one of the smaller screens. One of my IT guys has an image frozen on screen. “—Luca told me you’re preparing a gift for Vladimir Martinek.”

“Prepared,” I correct. “The footage of his goons planting that bomb on my boat has already been sent to his personal residence in California. He should receive it in a matter of hours.”

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