Page 117 of Dirty Grovel

“I have suggested she see one in the past. She’s never really been too keen on the idea.” I chew on my bottom lip. “But I can try and convince her to see one now. Given everything she’s been through, maybe she’ll even say yes.”

“Good.” He nods in approval. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you.”

“Wow, you’re doing a lot of talking today. Usually, I’m the one who can’t put a lid on it.”

He doesn’t smile, though. He just cups my hands in his, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. “I owe you an apology, Sutton. On the flight over here, Sydney explained what happened with the boudoir shoot. She told me everything. I never should have believed Drew, especially not over you. That was my mistake.”

The sigh escapes past his lips with a kind of melancholy I’ve never seen in him before. “I’m not used to giving trust freely. It is still difficult for me, despite… despite everything. Despite you.”

Then he raises one hand to stroke the soft curve of my cheek. “Can you forgive me?”

All thoughts of making him squirm vanish the moment he asks the question.

“You saved my sister. I’ll forgive you anything, Oleg. Thank you for bringing her home safely. Today, you really are my hero.”

He grins. “You’re an angel on earth, Sutton Palmer.”

“I’m a hero; you’re an angel—we’re quite the duo, aren’t we?”

I laugh and butt my head into his chest playfully. “Oh, most definitely. They should build statues in our honor.”

“Is that the kind of thanks you give a hero?” he asks. “I’d prefer something else over statues.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “What does the hero have in mind?”

Teasing glimmers dance across his eyes as he bumps his hips into mine. “Something that involves the angel getting on her knees, maybe.”

I pretend to be scandalized. “Why, Mr. Pavlov! What can you be thinking, asking that of me? I’m a respectable woman.”

He smirks. “Tell that to all those people who saw your boudoir shoot.” My smile drops. I glare at him while he reflects back a sheepish grin. “Too soon?”

“Too soon,” I say. “Way, way too soon.”

Chuckling in that low drawl that turns my indignation to putty, he grabs me and pulls me towards him. “Then allow me to apologize again,” he murmurs in my ear. “MaybeI’llget down on my knees foryou.”

“Hm, I do like the sound of that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess,” he growls. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

My heartbeat is strangely enthusiastic about the prospect. “Bring it on, Beast. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

He plucks me off the ground by the waist and I lock my ankles behind his back as our lips melt together.

But he’s only just slipped his tongue into my mouth when a ringtone slices through the building heat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, setting me back on my feet. “I’m sorry… I have to take this.”

Just like that, the world reminds us that it is far from tamed. Lipovsky might be dead and gone, but Drew and the Martineks are still big players who are very much on the board. Oleg has to deal with enemies outside the castle walls and also the ones who share his blood.

I watch carefully, looking for clues as he speaks fast Russian to his phone. When he finally ends the call, it’s beyond obvious that we won’t be picking up where we left off.

“It’s okay,” I tell him before he can even say anything. “It’s really not a big deal. You have to go and be the boss. I understand.”

He sighs. “I’d much rather be with you.”

“I know. But duty calls.”

He keeps squinting at me, almost as though he wants to make sure that I’m really okay and not just pretending as though I am.

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