Page 17 of Dancing With Distraction

I make quick work of applying a dressing to her wounds. “This has to stop,” I nod down at her thighs, and she goes to protest, but I stop her before she has the chance to come up with more lies and excuses. “I know what you need. Let me help you fight those urges.”

She scoffs. “How can you know what I need if I don’t even know what I need myself? I certainly don’t need a man to roll in and put me back together.”

“You could’ve fooled me, Ognyena Maria. You’re clearly doing a grand job by yourself,” I respond, my voice dripping in sarcasm. I take my tie off the bed and fasten it back in place around my neck. “Think on my proposal, but your body’s already telling me what you need.” I make my way to the door. “And fucking lock your door. Anybody could walk in here.”

“Fuck you, Dmitry,” she spits, and as the door closes, I smirk. Oh, Victoria, you will be fucking me if I have my way . . . and I always get my way.

Tori

The rain is soaking me through to the bone as I stand in the alleyway beside Kat’s, just waiting for the opportunity to get inside and give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind. I’m sure as hell not going to let him get away with his ridiculous proposal, and the fucker needs to know he can’t just turn up at my place and do what he did, then leave as if it never happened. Even if he is built like a god.

I watch from the shadows as his sleek Range Rover pulls up, the damage to his shiny paintwork still evident along the passenger door.

His normal goons follow the same routine as every other time, getting out the vehicle first and opening the door for him. He steps out in all his glory, adjusting his cufflinks and straightening his shoulders, and I shiver. Even from a distance, his presence oozes authority.

Another dark-coloured vehicle pulls up behind, and three men pile out, looking just as powerful as Dmitry but much older.

They all shake hands in greeting before entering the side of the building. I give it a few minutes before making my way to the doorway they’d entered through. I pull gently on the door, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence, but it doesn’t give. I sigh in frustration, as nothing seems to be going to plan. Not that there had been any well-thought-out plan, just another spur of the moment, crazy idea of mine after lying awake for most of last night, working myself up to this moment.

I groan out loud. There is no way in hell they’re gonna let me just stroll through the front doors. Given my track record, they’ll probably think I’m some kind of bunny boiler trying to stalk him.

I go back to lurking in the shadows, tucking myself into the opposite doorway in an attempt to keep myself dry. I just have to pick my moment. Smiling to myself, I can’t wait to see his reaction when I surprise him for a change.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes as the water soaks into my shoes. I realise all too late that Christian Louboutin heels are not the sort of footwear for wet weather or stakeouts.

It’s then I notice a cleaner exiting the building to put the rubbish bags in the skips. She props the entrance open with a mop to prevent it from closing. It’s the break I need, so I rush over, sneaking past her while her back is to me, then I close the door quietly behind me.

The warmth of the building hits me as soon as I enter, wrapping around me like a blanket.

I never thought this far ahead in my unorganised plan, not expecting to get through the doors without creating a scene, so I consider my next move carefully.

Muffled voices come from the main bar area, so I make my way in that direction. I kick off my heels, collecting them in my hand so as to not alert anyone to my arrival, and pad down the hallway, leaving wet footprints as I go.

My heart is pounding in my chest, though I’m not sure if it’s excitement or nerves. The thought of challenging him and calling him out on the shit he pulled causes a mixed reaction.

As I get closer, I hear the gruff tone of his voice and it ignites a fury deep inside me. He needs to know I won’t just lie down and be ordered about by yet another man. At least, not without a fight. I smirk at that thought.

I notice last night’s dirty glasses stacked on the bar, waiting to be washed, and I bite my lower lip as my mind races into action. In one swift swipe, I send them crashing across the room and they shatter into tiny pieces on the floor.

The talking stops and I notice everyone’s eyes are on me. I smirk, loving the reaction so far. Dmitry stands immediately, sending his chair backwards. His expression is one of fury. Well, that certainly got his fucking attention.

I march over to him with purpose. There’s no going back now, so I may as well go the whole ten yards. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I demand, pointing my finger in his face. “How dare you come into my home unannounced, like some fucking madman, and think you can take control of my fucking life?” His nostrils flare and his pupils dilate. He glances around, probably wondering if this is some kind of joke, but I’m not laughing, and he certainly isn’t either. The men are still sitting at the table, watching the exchange with interest. “Fuck you, Dmitry, and fuck your shitty offer. I’m no damsel, and you’re certainly not my fucking hero.”

His eyes burn with fury, and I love that I’ve surprised him, that I’ve been the one to catch him off guard. And then he does something I half expected—he pulls a gun from his waistband, the same one I felt last night when he had me pinned to my bed. I scoff at his overreaction. Fucking men think they can scare and intimidate me. I grin, placing my hand on the barrel and forcing it to my forehead. “Go on. Fucking do it, Dmitry. I dare you.”

He smirks. The prick actually fucking smirks. Holstering his gun as quickly as he drew it, he swoops down and launches me over his shoulder. Again, it takes me by surprise, and I scream in frustration. “Put me down, you fucking moron,” I yell, kicking my legs and hitting my fists against his back.

“Sorry, gentlemen. Please give me a moment to discard some trash,” he murmurs, unfazed by my thrashing around. And then he does something equally as infuriating as it is hot—he slaps my backside. It’s swift and hard, but it has the desired effect and I still, savouring the luscious sting he’s caused.

The men laugh as he stalks out the main bar area towards his office. He kicks the door closed behind him before sliding me down his solid body slowly. I feel every hard muscle, and it sends sparks of desire shooting through me.

He slams his fist against the door, right beside my head, and I flinch slightly. He places both hands beside my head, caging me in while he fixes me with an angry glare. The excitement of last night returns and I wonder what he plans to do now he has me alone, and I mentally scold myself. Don’t give in, Tori. Don’t give in.

The tension in the room is palpable. Neither of us speaks while his eyes bore into mine as if he’s looking at my darkest secrets. I turn away uncomfortably, but he grabs my chin, pinching it between his finger and thumb, and forces me to look at him. “That little display out there must never happen again, Victoria.” His voice low and menacing, but all it does is make my body react harder.

“My name is Tori,” I spit, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my body’s deception.

“You will go home and calm down. Do I make myself clear?”

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