Dirty Grovel: Chapter 46

By nightfall, my whole damn empire is crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.

The board files a no-confidence motion to try to unseat me as CEO of Pavlov Industries.

My allies scatter like cockroaches in the sunlight, some even going so far as to break alliances that have been generations in the making.

Even my father’s oldest and most loyal friend in Moscow gives me a call just to tell me to lie low for six months.

Six fucking months.

“Everything I’ve built,” I growl to Artem as he hands me our fifth shot of vodka. “Gone.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that.”

“You’re talking as though it’s all over.” Artem’s eyes cast out towards the dark horizon.

The sea is still tonight. It’s almost as though it’s mourning right alongside me.

“What makes you think it’s not?”

He does a double-take. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

“I spent years building this shit, Artem. Fucking years. Now, the people who were eating out of my palm are deserting me, one by fucking one.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he suggests. “You don’t need them anyway.”

I stop playing coy and just grab the whole damn bottle of vodka. No sense in pretending that I’m not going to guzzle through the entire thing.

“What does Oksana have to say about all of this?” my friend asks.

“She was pretty confident this morning,” I say. “But that was before the Martineks managed to brainwash the whole city in a matter of hours. Now, I’m not so sure.”

With a glower, Artem snatches the bottle from my hand. “Jesus Christ, man, get a fucking grip.”

“Give me the bottle or I’ll push you overboard.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “You can’t walk straight long enough to push an inanimate object overboard.”

“You underestimate me.”

“Actually, you’re the one underestimating yourself.” He keeps holding the bottle out of reach. “Have you spoken to Sutton about all of this?”

A grunt whistles through my teeth. “Sutton’s not talking to me at the moment.”

“Well, if she were talking to you, you know what she’d say?” He doesn’t wait for me to guess. “She’d tell you to stop being a dramatic asshole and focus on what matters.”

I bark out a harsh laugh. “Yeah well, Sutton isn’t here, is she?”

But instinctively, my fingers flicker towards my phone, desperate to call her, hear her voice.

Even if she does tell me to fuck off and leave her alone.

“She’s pregnant, emotional, and terrified for her sister,” Artem says gently. “She’s just taking her anger out on you.”

“As she should,” I spit. “It was a mistake giving her free rein. I should never have put her in harm’s way.”

“You didn’t.”

“Only because the scene played out the way it did. But if it had turned out differently… If Drew had been working on a trap of his own, if he had been backed by the Martineks⁠—”

“None of that happened.”

“But it very nearly could have!” I roar. “Don’t you get it, Artem? All these years and I haven’t learned a single fucking thing. I put Sutton in danger the same way I compromised Elise and Oriana’s safety. I could have lost Sutton the same way I lost the two of them—to ego and recklessness.”

Artem arches an eyebrow. “Your pride has also given you a lot,” he points out. “In fact, I think your pride is the very thing that might be able to save your ass and pull you from the cesspit you find yourself in.”

“I’ll believe it when I fucking see it.”

Artem sits up and leans forward, elbows propped on his knees. “What is the project you spend years developing? What is the ace you’ve got up your sleeve? The one thing that neither Boris nor the board were ever able to get their hands on?”

“My surveillance system.”

“Precisely.” Artem nods with satisfaction. “Your surveillance tech is solid. It’s state of the art, powerful, extremely precise. Not to mention, it’s worth fucking billions.” In the moonlight, his eyes gleam like a wolf ready to go on the hunt. “You need to drop that shit in the right laps. Chum the waters and the sharks will come. No businessman worth his salt is going to pass up a golden goose quacking in his face. Or honking, or whatever fucking sound geese make.”

My fingers curl possessively around my phone. “There has been a lot of interest in previewing my tech,” I admit. “I was just keeping it locked away so that we could launch it under the Pavlov Industries banner.”

“Except Pavlov Industries is being a little bitch,” Artem presses. “And you need to bring the board to heel. Therefore…”

Artem’s right: If I hawk my surveillance system outside of Pavlov Industries, the profits will be mine and mine alone.

Which means I’ll have all the bargaining chips in my pocket.

I’ll have the power to either raise Pavlov Industries or destroy it in favor of starting anew.

I rise to my feet, my body humming with bloodlust and fresh determination. “You’re right. No sense feeling sorry for myself. It’s time to fight dirty and watch them all come crawling back.”