Dirty Grovel: Chapter 15

It’s been three nights since the night.

My body is still thrumming with frustrated need after what I’d experienced by the pool. I wake up with that memory every morning and I go to bed with that memory each fucking night. It’s taken on the steely edge of torture.

Sutton’s silhouette against the stars.

Her breathy moans.

That desirous little gasp that carried all the way down to me from her balcony.

It haunts me like a fever dream.

And it doesn’t seem to matter what I do or how busy I make myself; I can’t seem to escape her.

It’s starting to become a real problem.

Being this distracted is not good for business. Now more than ever, I need to have a clear head, I need to make sound judgements. My priorities have never been clearer.

This business with Lipovsky and the Martineks won’t wait for me to sort out my messy feelings about a woman who may or may not be carrying my child.

That’s the main reason I organized this trip to Florida. Yes, I have business here, but it’s more about getting some space from Sutton.

Not that we share much space even when I’m in Nassau. I’ve done a great job of avoiding her like the plague.

That night by the pool was the one exception. We weren’t even close, but the mere sight of each other had driven us both to dangerous territory.

I can’t give in to my lust for Sutton.

The last time I did that, I regretted it.

And since the paternity test results have still not come in, I have even more reason to keep my distance and sort out my chaotic thoughts.

The moment my yacht docks in the Miami harbor, Artem climbs aboard. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s wearing the biggest smile as he rushes aboard and grabs me in a bear hug.

“Yo, brother! It’s been a minute,” he booms, clapping me on the back.

“How’s the newest kid doing?” I ask. “And Faye? She recovering well?”

“She’s SuperMom,” Artem says proudly. “Honestly, I don’t know how she juggles it all. I lucked out when I met that woman.”

Something pulls at me from the insides as I listen to Artem boast about his wife. That’s not something I’ll ever have. It’s not something I thought I wanted, either…

I open a bottle of champagne and we toast to the new baby. Then we toast to Faye. Finally, we toast to Artem’s growing family.

By the time we’re done with all the toasts, Artem looks pretty close to being tipsy.

“So…” he starts and I know immediately what’s coming.

I cut him off at the pass. “What do you have for me? I read some of the preliminary reports but nothing in too much detail.”

“I didn’t want to put it in writing,” Artem admits. “But we’ve been monitoring the situation closely. There’s no hard evidence yet, but there definitely seems to be some chatter between the Martineks, Boris, and Lipovsky.”

“That’s what I thought. No such thing as coincidence in our world.”

Artem arches a brow. “Do you have a plan in mind?”

I nod. “We need to take one of them out. It will serve as a warning to the other two and hopefully, drain their resources at the same time.”

“We could hit Lipovsky first,” Artem suggests. “If we take him out, that means Anton will be hung out to dry as well. Two birds, one stone.”

“I would normally agree…” I hesitate, mulling it over as I slosh around the champagne remaining in my flute.

“But?”

“Sutton’s sister,” I murmur. “She’s in Lipovsky’s power. If anything goes wrong, he could use her against me.”

I finish the rest of my champagne in one gulp. But what I’m really craving is something harder, stronger, something that will burn on the way down my throat and force me to forget the woman who’s been stalking my days and nights.

“How are things with you and Sutton?”

I’ve been expecting this question since Artem walked onto the top deck. I turn my face towards the ocean, convinced he’ll be able to see the conflict in my eyes if I look at him.

“Things are… fine. She hates my guts, but that’s par for the course.”

“Have you done anything to deserve her hate?”

“She’s the one who fucked up.”

“Did she?” Artem asks calmly. “Or do you need to believe that in order to preserve whatever twisted notion you have about love and women and family?”

I scowl. “I forget that, every time you have a baby, you fancy yourself some sort of philosopher.”

Artem just laughs. “Defensive. Now, I know I’m onto something.”

“You know fuck-all,” I snap. “Just like I don’t know if Sutton’s baby is mine.”

“I do.”

He’s so damn confident that I meet his gaze. “How can you be so sure?”

“I may not have known Sutton very long, but I don’t think she’s the kind of woman who can play the spy game. What you see is what you get with her.”

“So how do you explain the fact that she kept her contact with Anton from me?”

“Maybe she thought it was none of your business?”

“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.

“I’m married,” Artem says coldly.

Murtagh looks confused by the concept. “So am I. What your wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I can tell by the way his jaw is throbbing that Artem is very close to letting his polite act drop entirely.

I grip my friend’s shoulder. “We’ll let you get on with hosting, Murtagh. Don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“Anything for my main man.”

Once we’ve cleared Murtagh’s cringy presence, Artem and I find a quieter spot in the back of the yacht. We lean against the railing and look out into the open sea.

“Is this really the kind of life you want?” Artem asks, his tone curling with disgust. “Meaningless sex with underage bimbos? Throwing around money and power just because you can? Living the kind of hedonistic lifestyle that rots your soul and drains you of your humanity?”

“So much judgement from the party boy of Nassau.”

Artem rolls his eyes. “That was a long time ago,” he says. “And I was a single man then. In any case, I can speak to how empty that life is. It’s miserable.”

“You didn’t look very miserable at those yacht parties we used to throw.”

He punches me in the arm. “Make fun all you want. But sometimes, it takes finding meaning to realize how meaningless your life has been up until that point. Faye was my meaning. Sutton could be yours.”

My eyes flash to his. “Are we seriously on this topic again?”

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for what happened with Oriana and Elise, brother,” he says gently. “Denying yourself happiness is not going to bring them back.”

I push myself off the railing. “I think I need another drink,” I say coldly. “Excuse me.”

“Brother—” Artem calls after me but I ignore him and walk to the other side of the yacht.

Fucker thinks he knows me.

Well, he’s wrong. This is not about punishing myself. And it has absolutely nothing to do with Oriana or Elise.

This happens to be about trust and Sutton has wrecked mine.

It’s hard to find a quiet corner on this party yacht. I’m trying to block out the music when someone clears their throat right behind me.

I turn to find myself faced with a pretty blonde in a bright orange string bikini that barely covers her tits.

“Hi!” She gives me a shy wave. “I’m Roxy.”

I nod. “Hi, Roxy.”

“I needed some quiet. I’m guessing you wanted the same?” she asks, coming up and leaning against the railing next to me. “My friend is dating the owner of this yacht. I saw you talking to them earlier.”

“She has poor taste.”

Roxy giggles. “She’s never had much sense when it comes to men. She always picks the wrong ones.”

I narrow my eyes. “She’s eighteen years old. How many bad choices could she have made?”

“You’d be surprised.”

She turns towards me, breasts thrusted forward. It would have been hard to look away on a normal day.

But somehow, at this moment, it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“So… are you here alone or⁠—?”

“I’m here with a friend.”

She sidles a little closer. “Your friend seems to have ditched you,” she observes, her smile growing a little wider, a little more playful. “I can be your friend for the night.”

“Trying to outdo Anna with the bad choices, are you?”

She giggles. “Are you saying you’re a bad choice?”

“The worst,” I growl, hardening my features and turning the scarred side of my face towards her.

She smiles meekly. “I think you’re wrong… and I like your scars. I think they’re kinda sexy.”

“That’s because you’re stupid and horny.”

Her smile drops instantly, her hands tensing against the railing. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” I snap. “You’re stupid and horny and far too young to know what a fool you’re making of yourself. For the record, I don’t date little girls. And I certainly don’t fuck them. So run along and pick another man to boost your self-esteem, because it’s not going to be me.”

By the time I’m finished with my tirade, there are tears standing sentinel in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivers.

“Told you,” I snarl. “I’m the worst choice you could possibly make.”

She whirls around and runs from me.

I watch her go calmly.

“You deserve better,” I murmur to her back.

But it’s not really her I’m talking to.