Dirty Grovel: Chapter 20

I’ve stared down the barrel of a Glock 94.

I’ve ridden a motorcycle away from men who wanted me dead.

I’ve suffered third-degree burns on half my body and the nightmarish memories that came along with them.

After everything I’ve endured, who would have thought something as simple as a six-year-old’s birthday party would be the thing that does me in?

In all fairness, it’s not just any party. It’s a costume party.

When I’d argued with Sutton that I was just the host, not an actual guest, and therefore shouldn’t be required to wear a costume, she pointed out that as the host, it was incumbent upon me to set an example.

I only have myself to blame. My mistake was giving her one of my black platinum credit cards and telling her to “go nuts.”

It was my way of saying, I’m trying to make you happy.

Her new and evolving requests appear to be her way of saying, It’s nowhere near enough.

I’ve spent the last three hours playing pirate, courtesy of the costume Sutton so kindly picked up on my behalf. That’s three hours of swinging kids around by their arms, acting like a pretend monster while the little ones run away screaming.

I’m all ARRR’ed out.

That’s game, set, and match for Sutton Palmer.

Was there a time when I thought she might not be cut out for the Bratva wife’s life? Because right now, I’m thinking she might be the secret weapon I never knew I needed.

I’ve stolen away from the party, with an ice-cold beer and what’s left of my sanity.

But I don’t even get halfway through my drink before I spy a pleasant hallucination coming my way.

A gorgeous, buxom pirate wench sauntering toward my beach chair, her blonde hair spilling over her chest and covering her generous cleavage.

I sit up a little and focus.

That’s no hallucination.

That’s the sneaky siren who conned me into this torture in the first place.

“You look comfy,” she says accusingly, flinging me an arched eyebrow and a barely-there smile.

My pants get even tighter. I’m not a fan of any of these ridiculous costumes—unless she happens to be the one wearing them.

“Just needed some quiet,” I mumble.

She laughs. The sound is oddly sinister—and intensely seductive. I notice that her breasts are slightly sunburnt. I’m on the verge of offering to lather her up with suntan lotion when she cuts me off.

“It’s cute that you think it’s break time.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Sutton, I’ve been at this for three hours. With all the money you’ve blown on this party, you didn’t think to hire a clown or something?”

“I’m looking at our clown,” she purrs. “Now, come on—you don’t want to break the kids’ hearts, do you?”

Scowling, I hug my beer a little closer. “As of right now? I don’t mind it, to be honest. They’ve had their fun. Now⁠—”

“Did you really think your costume was just for show?” She steps forward, hip cocked wide. “You’re the captain of the ship.”

“What?”

She smirks. “You’re taking the kids out on The Water Star.”

“Like hell I am⁠—”

Her jaw tightens. “I promised Teo, Oleg. And I’m not about to break my promises to a six-year-old on his birthday. So, chop-chop, or I’ll have to make you walk the plank.”

She stares at me.

I stare at her.

She stares at me some more.

I concede.

“Fine,” I growl, forcing myself to my feet and throwing Sutton a dirty look. “You should have come as the devil. Would’ve been more appropriate.”

She just laughs. “Maybe for the next party. Now, stop scowling—you’re going to scare the children.”

She leads the way to my own boat. Somewhere during the walk, I leave my resentment behind.

Maybe because I’m a little too entranced by her behind. The woman has an ass that can make a man think things he really shouldn’t be thinking.

Especially not at a six-year old’s party.

She also has an ass that can make a man agree to things he really doesn’t want to do. Case in point: Half an hour later, I find myself the pirate captain of a ship sailing the high seas.

Let’s ignore the fact that we’re about ten meters from the dock, and that there’s a paddleboard and a lifeguard in the ocean to catch the kids whom I’m making “walk the plank”.

By the time the fifth kid jumps overboard, I’ve perfected my pirate growl. And there might be a small chance that I may be enjoying myself.

Just a little.

All part and parcel of the witchcraft that Sutton has managed to pull on me.

Soon enough, we’re waving goodbye to the last guests. I’m so exhausted, I feel like I’ve spent the last six hours getting pummeled in the boxing ring.

“Thank you, Mr. Oleg!” Teo squeals running up to me and hugging me around the middle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. This was the best party of my whole entire life!”

I can’t help smiling down at the kid. Jesse, Faye and Sutton are standing off to the side, watching the exchange with maternal grins on their faces.

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” I say. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“I had so much fun!” he cries. “But Mama says I have to go to bed now.”

“She’s right—you need your rest. But before you head back, I have to give you my present.”

Jesse spasms in place. “Mr. Oleg, you really don’t have to. This party was a gift enough.”

“Nonsense. You and Teo are valuable members of the crew. A present is absolutely necessary. Pirates always share their booty.”

I glance towards Sutton, who is staring at me with narrowed eyes. I’ve gone rogue on her here and I’m not sure she likes it.

“Artem,” I call, “why don’t you bring in my gift?”

With a smirk, Artem leaves the living room. All three kids are bouncing around in anticipation of this gift. Sutton walks over to me, still dressed as a pirate wench, albeit a tired-looking one.

“You got him a gift?”

“It’s from both of us.”

“But—”

Just then, we hear a tiny little bark. Teo freezes, Lily perks up, and Noah lets out a little gasp.

“Oh my God,” Sutton exclaims. “You didn’t!”

Artem enters the living room again, carrying the tiny Labrador pup that I picked out myself early this morning at one of Nassau’s premier dog breeders.

“Happy birthday, Teo. He’s all yours.”

The kids erupt in screams of excitement. I even get a little squeal from Sutton as she rushes towards Artem.

The only one who isn’t drooling all over the puppy is Faye. She’s standing apart from the crowd clustered around Artem and the trembling puppy, watching me with a knowing half-smile on her face.

I point my chin up towards her and she purses her lips, her smile growing more pronounced.

Damn woman thinks she knows me.

I ignore her.

Artem, after relinquishing the puppy to the kids, walks over and pats me on the back. “Well done, man. This was an epic party. One of your best yet.”

“How did you get away with not wearing a costume?” I gripe.

“I was the lifeguard!”

“Here’s to cheap labor, I guess,” I mutter, grabbing another beer. It must be my fifth or sixth drink for the day, but who’s counting?

“Sutton did an amazing job.”

“Yeah, yeah. She can really plan a party.”

“Sure, that, too,” Artem acknowledges with a sneaky grin. “But I was talking about the job she did on you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s really got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

“I did this for Teo. And Jesse.”

Artem laughs and shakes his head. “Right. Of course. What was I thinking?” He drops the suggestive smile and drapes his arm over my shoulder. I suspect I’m not the only one who’s had a few too many drinks. “What the fuck are you waiting for, man? She’s great. Stop wasting time and seal the deal already.”

“You’re drunk.” I duck from under his arm and move to the bar.

I’m pouring myself another drink when Sutton walks over, taking me off-guard with her sweet seductive smile.

“The dog was a stroke of genius,” she murmurs. “You did good.”

Her fingers brush against my arm. It’s the briefest of contact, but my skin sings at her touch.

When she walks away, I find myself wondering if Artem may be right.

What the fuck am I waiting for?