Dirty Damage: Chapter 40

I’m in front of the full-length mirror, tugging on the first item of clothing I’ve worn in twelve hours, when Oleg emerges from the bathroom.

He’s dressed in workout clothes, but his hair is still mussed from my hands.

The sight of him makes my thighs clench.

His gaze catches mine in the mirror. Last night floods back—his hands pinning mine to the wall, his mouth on my neck, him carrying me to bed when we got back to our room so we could do it all over again.

“Sure you don’t want to join me?” He arches an eyebrow, lips curving into that devastating half-smile.

I shake my head. We both know if I go with him to the gym, we won’t be making it out of the locker room.

“Some of us are still recovering from last night.”

“Poor baby.” He moves behind me, hands settling on my hips. “I didn’t hear any complaints when you were screaming my name.”

Heat burns my cheeks. “I wasn’t screaming.”

“No?” His fingertip traces lazy circles on my hip bone. “Then maybe I should try again.”

I elbow him in the ribs and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I like this.”

“What?”

“Us. No phones, no family drama, no business bullshit. Just you and me.”

And just like that, the world back home comes into focus.

The armed men chasing us down the street, my sister and her abuser, Drew and his burner phone.

I’m supposed to be getting updates about Sydney every week, but it’s been two since I last checked.

Guilt smacks me sideways, but Oleg seems oblivious to my inner turmoil. “We should stay another week. Maybe a month. Fuck everything else.”

I force a smile. “Your mother would hunt us down.”

“Worth it.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Back in an hour. Feel free to be naked.”

The door shuts behind him and I count to thirty, heart thundering.

Then I’m diving for the closet, yanking open my backpack, fingers trembling as I dig out the phone I almost didn’t bring with me.

I was afraid Oleg would find it, but there hasn’t been any chance of that because I haven’t even been checking it.

What kind of selfish, sex-obsessed sister am I?

I power on the phone, drumming my fingers nervously as the screen lights up. And…

Fuck.

Eleven missed calls. Three messages.

DREW: Something went down between Sydney and Paul.

DREW: I’m taking Syd away so that Paul can cool down. Why aren’t you picking up?

DREW: Where the fuck are you? Sydney needs you, Sutton!

My hands shake as I hit call.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Drew growls. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days! Where the hell have you⁠—”

“Where’s Sydney?” I interrupt.

“Oh, now, you care about her?”

He laughs, masking his anger like he cares about Sydney’s safety. But I recognize the undertone of jealousy.

He knows where I’ve been.

And with whom.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. It’s been a busy few days.” My voice comes out steady despite the way my pulse races.

Three floors down, Oleg is probably doing his first set of bench presses, completely unaware that I’m up here talking to the man he wants to destroy.

I pace to the window, scanning the grounds below like Oleg might materialize at any second. “Where’s Sydney?”

“Fuck that. Tell me where you⁠—”

A female voice cuts through in the background, high and demanding.

Relief washes over me. Sydney’s okay. She’s alive.

There’s a brief tussle while they fight for the phone, then⁠—

“Sutton?” Sydney is breathless.

My knees give out and I sink onto the bed. I’m holding the phone so tightly I think it’ll snap. “Syd? Are you okay?”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

“Where are you?”

“California.” She hesitates. “Drew brought me here for a few weeks.”

“That was… nice of him.”

I’m hesitant to give Drew anything even resembling credit, but if he got my sister away from Paul, I’m willing to make an exception.

“Not really. Paul made him. Apparently, he couldn’t bear the sight of me anymore.”

The words hang there as the picture expands in front of me. I grip the phone tighter, nails digging into plastic. “Paul kicked you out?”

“He didn’t kick me out exactly.” The denial comes quick, practiced. “He just wanted a… a breather. Some alone time. It was my fault, really. I keep picking fights. I just can’t control myself sometimes.”

My sister. My beautiful, broken sister, making excuses for a monster.

Again.

“Is he with another woman right now?” I spit the question, imagining it’s right in Paul’s eye. “What did he do?”

The silence on the other end of the line deepens and deepens, long enough I think the call might have dropped.

“… Syd?”

“I’m here.” She lowers her voice to a meek whisper. “Listen, I hope Drew didn’t make this sound like a big deal or anything, okay? It’s not. We just hit a rough patch. Paul will cool down and we’ll get past it.”

A rage I can’t leash down bubbles up in me. “‘A rough patch’? Syd, he hit you and then you disappeared for weeks! He basically kidnapped you and then shipped you off with Drew when he was finished.”

“It wasn’t like—” She takes a deep breath, trying to control herself. Not for my sake, but for Paul’s. Because she’s going to defend him, I already know it. “I just didn’t want to talk.”

“To me specifically? Because I’m the only person who tells you the truth?”

Forget toeing the line; I’m dancing on it. I’ll be lucky if Sydney doesn’t hang up on me forever, but I can’t keep any of this inside anymore.

“You’re with a man who makes you miserable!” I add. “Who hits you and makes you feel like shit, and I’m the only one who will tell you to dump his worthless ass!”

“You don’t understand, Sut. You’ve never been in love.”

I laugh. It’s a sharp, bitter sound that makes me feel even worse. “Sydney, you can’t really think you love Paul.”

“We’ve been together for three years. He’s my person.”

“No, I’m your person!” Tears well in my eyes, and I swipe them away angrily. “I’m supposed to be your person, Syd. It’s always been you and me against the world.”

“Oh yeah? My engagement announcement must’ve gotten lost in the mail. You get engaged to a billionaire and I have to find out in the tabloids.”

I recoil from the phone like she hit me herself. “Okay, that’s not— It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I heard that from someone else, too.” She snorts. “Drew told me none of this is real.”

“Drew doesn’t know a fucking thing,” I hiss. “You can’t trust him.”

“At least he’s here.” She sniffles, and I know she’s crying, too. How the hell did we get here? We’re literally, emotionally, on opposite ends of the globe from each other, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“You don’t get to lecture me while you’re engaged to Oleg. At least Paul and I love each other.”

Classic Sydney. Cornered animals always bite the hand trying to feed them.

But fuck if she hasn’t drawn blood this time.

“You may love him, but does he love you?”

“Of course he does.” The response is automatic, robotic. “He’s just… passionate. He gets upset and he⁠—”

“He’s a brute, Sydney!”

“Better a brute than a scarred beast, Sutton!” After a beat of silence, she continues. “Drew told me all about your fiancé and his nickname. Are you really going to tell me our situations are so different?”

I glance at the door, paranoid Oleg might walk in even though I know he’s still downstairs. My hands are trembling so hard I can barely hold the phone.

“They are different,” I say, but even I hear the uncertainty in my voice.

Why can’t I find the words to explain how this thing with Oleg is nothing like her and Paul?

Because it is. It’s so much different. Oleg isn’t a monster. Oleg doesn’t hurt me.

But…

“You’ve made your feelings about my relationship clear. I know you think Paul is using me and he’ll dump me once he’s finished, but what makes you think your billionaire is any different?” she asks. “Unless you want to tell me you think Oleg Pavlov is actually in love with you?”

I want to argue, but I can’t.

The proof—the contract—sits in Oleg’s safe back home, my signature at the bottom. A million dollars for my body, my compliance, my freedom.

Sure, the sex is incredible.

Sure, he can be gentle, even tender sometimes.

But at the end of the day, I signed myself over to him just like Sydney handed herself to Paul.

I was blinded by Oleg’s beauty and charm.

No, that’s not the only reason you signed the contract. You did it for her. To save her. The way she’s always saved you.

“You say it’s complicated only because you can’t face the fact that you’re just like me, Sutton.” Sydney twists the knife. “And that kills you. You think you hide it well, but I know that following in my footsteps is your greatest fear.”

I swallow hard. “I love you, Sydney. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Maybe you should let me decide what’s best for me, huh?”

I want to tell her about the money and how I’ll be able to help her. Just give me some time, and I can get you out. We can be together.

But there are footsteps in the hallway.

I check the time. Oleg should be gone for another forty minutes, but he’s back.

There isn’t time.

“Okay,” I stammer, already moving towards the closet. “Okay, but… please stay in touch. Please don’t go quiet on me. I need to know you’re okay.”

There’s a beat that feels like an hour before she sighs. “I can do that.”

“I love you, Syd.”

The line goes dead before she says it back.

There isn’t time to dwell on it. I shove the phone back in the corner of my bag just as the door bursts open and Oleg comes in.

“I cut the workout short,” he announces to the room. “The blood was rushing to all the wrong places.”

I take a steadying breath before I walk back into the suite, the conversation with Sydney echoing in my head.

Unless you want to tell me you think Oleg Pavlov is actually in love with you?

I want to say yes.

But I’m not sure what I think anymore.