Page 46 of Dirty Grovel

“You are getting dangerously close to being pushed overboard, my friend.”

He chuckles. “Please don’t make me walk the plank, captain,” he says, fingering his silk shirt. “We have a business party to attend in an hour and this shirt is new.”

Gritting my teeth, I check the time. Artem and I RSVP’d to this yacht party by a big-time client weeks ago. Otherwise, I would have definitely cancelled. My head’s not in the right space for partying.

Artem clears his throat. “Faye’s a little worried about her.”

I roll my eyes. “Typical of your wife. She sides with Sutton before she sides with me.”

“Only because she’s an excellent judge of character. She doesn’t think that Sutton is capable of double-crossing you. And as for the baby… we both think there’s no question as to who the father is.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“This is a good thing, Oleg. In more ways than one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“What scenario is better: Having a child with a woman you loathe or having a child with a woman you could possibly love?”

My jaw drops. “Love was never on the table.”

“Fine. Forget love. But you care about this girl, brother.”

“You’re just seeing what you want to see, Artem,” I say, rising from my seat. “And it’s starting to get annoying.”

“Then why are you considering her sister in all this?” Artem asks slyly. “You don’t want to risk doing anything that might cause Sydney harm because you know that would hurt Sutton.”

If there’s one thing I absolutely cannot stand, it’s when Artem attacks me with logic that I can’t counter.

“Come on,” I grumble. “We better get going; otherwise, we’ll be late.”

Thankfully, Artem follows behind me without a word. But his smirk is pronounced enough that I fantasize about pushing him off the dock the entire walk to the ridiculous, three-decked yacht that I had sold only last month.

Lights flash from every deck on the gigantic vessel. Women dance in obscene bikinis while bodyguards patrol the yacht, looking conspicuous and important in their double-breasted suits.

Murtagh finds us a few seconds later. He’s wearing a captain’s hat and a Hawaiian shirt left unbuttoned.

His most obvious accessory, however, is a pretty young blonde draped over one arm.

“Ah, the man of the hour,” he greets, clasping my hand before pulling me in for a hug I barely tolerate.

When he releases me, he gestures to the pretty bauble by his side. “Allow me to introduce Anna. She’s never been on a yacht before; can you believe it?”

I can believe it.

Especially since she looks about seventeen.

“Hello,” she purrs, fluttering her eyelashes at me.

“A pleasure,” I reply shortly.

Murtagh slaps her ass and sends her off in the direction of the bar. “Get me another beer, baby. Daddy’s thirsty.”

She gives him a wink but her eyes are trained on me as she walks away. She joins a small flock of girls, all of whom turn back to peek at me, their laughter trickling over towards us.

“You’ve got yourself a new plaything, Murtagh,” Artem notes, his nose pinched up in distaste. “Is she even legal?”

He bellows out a laugh. “We’re celebrating her nineteenth birthday next week. There’s nothing like fucking a teenager, lemme tell you. She invited several of her friends tonight. Feel free to take your pick,” he offers as though they’re his to give.

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