Dirty Grovel: Chapter 25

She avoids my gaze the next morning.

Despite that, there’s a tentative rapture in the air. The faint hint of hope that lingers in the pulsing energy between us.

I know she’s waiting for me to break the silence. Bring up last night, perhaps.

“Breakfast?”

She says nothing, just walks to the upper deck, forcing me to follow. I’m so distracted by the sight of her perfect ass in my face as she takes the steps that I almost miss her next words.

“I have no desire to sit through another interminable meal with your mother.” She turns to me, jaw squared, eyebrows arrowed downward. “I’ll be spending the morning with Jesse and Teo.”

She waits for me to object. I consider doing it, if only to get a rise out of her. Maybe even another excuse to grab her, push her against the yacht’s railing and take her right here, out in the open sun, in full view of the bungalow and the cottage.

“I don’t blame you,” I say instead.

The set of her jaw softens. “You could join us, too, you know.”

“That almost sounds like an invitation.”

“Only if you wanted to.”

“I do want to,” I say. “But I have business to handle.”

“You have your mother to placate, you mean.”

“There’s very little difference between the two.”

She smirks, but then she swallows the smile a second later. “I meant what I said last night.”

“I believed you.”

“Good. Because what happened last night doesn’t mean I’m going to be your plaything, Oleg. I am not yours to use whenever you decide you want me.”

Her fierceness is thrilling. My cock jumps to life at the sight of her parted lips, her flushed face, her heaving chest. She’s got so much righteous dignity churning around inside her and it’s not even eight in the morning.

“Understood.”

She looks at me for a moment longer before she nods. Then we walk up to the bungalow together.

When the path forks, she takes the left branch towards Jesse and Teo’s cottage.

There’s a rather large part of me that wishes I were going with her. Facing my mother on an empty stomach never bodes well.

But right is the only way I can go.

I sneak into the kitchen, hoping to at least get some caffeine into my system before our inevitable conversation.

But I’m too late. Oksana is sitting in the breakfast nook, cradling a fresh mug of coffee and a sour sneer, her eyes following me like a bird of prey.

“Imagine my surprise,” she sniffs, “when I walked into the kitchen this morning to find it cold and empty.”

She’s not wrong. Jesse usually has something on the table by now. It’s not her day off, either, which means her absence is calculated.

“Am I to interpret this as some sort of statement?” she continues, sliding one finger around the rim of her mug.

My mother. The woman could give a master class in intimidation tactics.

Lesson one: It’s in the simple things.

The arched eyebrow.

The pursed lips.

The way she tracks my every movement without so much as blinking.

I pour myself a full mug of coffee, breathing in the heady scent as I join her in the breakfast nook. “What does it matter? You don’t eat anyway.”

“That’s not the point. She is your employee and she has a job to do. Her personal feelings don’t come into it.”

“That’s not how I run my estates.”

Oksana’s eyes flash to mine. “I see. You don’t hire employees; you hire friends. Is that it? It’s the only explanation I can see for why you would throw Jesse’s son a party in this house. It appears that the yachts were used, too?”

I grit my teeth. “We should have had you make the children walk the plank,” I suggest wryly. “Although that might have been a little too on the nose.”

“I’m guessing it was her idea.” Oksana’s eyes veer towards the cottage. Toward Sutton. “Is she there now? Having breakfast with the help?”

“Jesus Christ,” I snap. “You’ve known Jesse since she was a child. Oriana and Jesse were friends. They might have been closer if you hadn’t been such a snobby bitch. Do you really think it’s beneath us to have a relationship with her simply because she works for us?”

Her eyes are frigid ice. “Your sister was a kind soul.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She rips away from me to stare out over the hazy horizon visible through the French doors. “Oriana was… messy. She didn’t always understand how things worked.”

“She didn’t like your archaic fucking rules, you mean.”

Oksana picks up her coffee mug and hides behind it for a moment. “I used to think you were different,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I used to think you understood what was expected of us. Of you. But I can see now that you like things to be just as… messy.”

I sigh. “Get to the point, Maman.”

“Why her?” she asks. “Out of all the fish in the sea, why her?”

“You disapprove of her because she’s—in your words—‘messy’? Am I right?”

“To put it mildly.”

I snort. “Well, I have news for you, Maman. Children are messy. It makes sense to choose a woman who understands what that means.”

“Children…? Why on earth—?” She stops short, her eyes going wide as the realization sinks in. “What are you saying? Do you mean…? Is Sutton pregnant?”

“Yes, she is,” I answer without batting an eyelid. “And before you ask, I had a paternity test done weeks ago. I’m the father. A new contract has been drawn up, the i’s have been dotted, and the t’s have been crossed.”

Oksana’s complexion pales. “And… what is the plan?”

I tilt my head to the side. “Is that a trick question?”

She leans forward, abandoning her coffee. I can smell the thick scent of it on her breath. “You told me, mere weeks ago, to find you a bride. That is the reason I’m here⁠—”

“I apologize for the unnecessary trip. And for the weeks you have wasted trying to select a bride for me. But I no longer need your services.”

Oksana nods. “You plan on marrying Sutton then? Does she know this?”

I shrug. “She will soon enough.”

My mother’s eyes turn towards the glittering, diamond-encrusted waters we can see in the gaps between swaying palm trees and bobbing yachts.

It’s hard to read her expression. I have no idea what to make of her tightened mouth and pinched eyes.

“I know you hate her, but she is now the mother of your grandchild and your future daughter-in-law. For the sake of the family⁠—”

“‘Hate’ is a strong word,” Oksana interrupts, her gaze veering back to me. “I can’t say I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. No one has been important enough.” She takes a deep breath. “I suppose that’s the end of it then.”

“Maybe for you. For me, this is just the beginning. Sutton is not like any of the women you would have picked for me. And frankly, I consider that a good thing.”

“She is an unconventional choice.”

“Precisely her appeal.”

Oksana nods. “You want me to make nice with her.”

“Only if you expect to have a relationship with your grandchild,” I say icily. “Alienating the child’s mother is a bad way to do that.”

“I have just one question.” She sighs and waits for me to signal for her to continue. “You were sure not so long ago that she was working with your enemies to take you down. What makes you so sure now that she’s innocent?”

I take my time answering. When I do, my words come slow at first. “I’ve spent my life surrounded by schemers and liars. People grasping for power or influence or money. I judge everyone I meet by those standards. Meeting and getting to know Sutton has shown me that there are different kinds of people out there. Ones whose ambitions are no greater than being happy and safe.”

Oksana’s eyes bore into mine. “She seems to have a way of getting through to you when no one else can.”

“She has a unique perspective. I appreciate that.”

“As long as you don’t let yourself be blinded by it,” Oksana advises. “She may be a breath of fresh air, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have secrets. Or ulterior motives.”

“I can handle my own affairs, Maman. But she is to be my wife and I will not have her treated as the enemy. I have determined that she’s not a threat. I expect you to treat her accordingly. Treat her as you would have had you been the one to choose her.”

Oksana exhales sharply, her breath whistling as it passes her lips. “I suppose congratulations are in order then.”

She rises to her feet and I do the same. I’m not expecting the hug she gives me, but she holds on to me longer than I expect. “It’s finally happening,” she murmurs. “A baby in the family. The first one since you and your sister were born.”

Oriana’s name is on the tip of my tongue, but Oksana’s eyes are already looking a little distant, damn near misty.

If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she was on the verge of crying.

I do know better, though.

“Speaking of family,” Oksana says when she releases me, “we need to discuss Boris.”