Page 21 of Dirty Grovel

“A paternity test. I need to know if the baby is mine.”

You’d think I’d landed a punchline as opposed to asking for a medical test to be performed.

The doctor gives me a sideways smirk. “That can only be done with the consent ofbothparties.”

“Fine. You’ll get the consent. What do you need?”

“A blood sample from the mother. A DNA swab from the potential father,” she answers. “And of course, a signed consent form.”

I glance towards the door, ready to march in there and demand Sutton do what needs to be done.

But the doctor seems to sense what I have in mind because she grabs my arm before I can storm back into the hospital room.

“You need to take a step and think about what you’re doing,” she says harshly. “The girl is not in a good state of mind. She doesn’t need to be confronted with a paternity test right now.”

“I need to know?—”

She holds up her hand. “There is a good chance that this baby is yours, yes?”

I nod reluctantly.

“Then you need to sort out your priorities. What’s more important: your pride? Or your child’s life?”

When she puts it that way…

“Being a good father doesn’t start when the baby is born,” she continues, her dark eyes glittering. “It starts at the moment of conception. It starts with how you treat the mother of your child. Never forget that.”

I don’t like her tone or the assumptions she’s making about me.

But even I have to admit…

It’s good fucking advice.

7

SUTTON

“Take us home, Ilya,” Oleg commands.

I feel the resonance of his voice all the way to my core and immediately start pretending that it doesn’t affect me at all.

“It’s not my home,” I insist, turning my face towards the tinted window. “Wherever you’re taking me is not my home.”

“It’s a damn sight better than anyplace else you were going to go.” His lip curls.

“Ihaveno place else to go.”

“Precisely.”

Sighing, I hug myself and keep gazing out of the window, refusing to meet his golden gaze for a second longer than I have to, even though I feel it on me.

“What was the plan, exactly?” he asks after a few beats of tense silence. “You were gonna hide out on one of my yachts indefinitely? Live off rations and avoid crew members?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” I mutter. “But I think the concept of hiding in plain sight had merit. And you did tell me that your yachts were the safest vessels on earth.”

He sighs. I wonder if he’s reluctantly impressed. “Why hide at all?”

I contemplate not answering him at all.Fuck it,I decide. There’s nothing lost from telling the truth. “I was scared.”

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