Page 40 of Dancing With Distraction

“What is it about him?” I ask. “He seems to be causing you a lot of problems.”

She trails her fingers over my stomach, drawing circles there. “She’s seeing him. At least, I think that’s what she was trying to tell me before I lost my mind.”

“You don’t want her to?”

She shakes her head. “He’s bad news.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.”

Her stomach growls in hunger, and I laugh. “You need food.”

“I’m fine,” she mutters sleepily. I move her off me, and she snuggles into her pillow.

“I’m calling for a Chinese. You have to eat.”

As I stand, my phone vibrates on the bedside table and I pick it up, seeing Leo’s name. I glance at Victoria, who has her eyes closed, drifting off to sleep, so I step outside the bedsit and into the hall to answer. “Yeah?”

“Boss, I got some serious shit on this guy, Marcus.”

“I’m almost done here and then I’ll be home. Get it sent to my office there. Is there anything huge that stands out?”

He scoffs. “Boss, the guy’s a paedophile, but he doesn’t use the name you gave me. The family who fostered him are Harding, but that’s never been a legal name. Before that, he was Marcus Shaw. He changed it again after he got put on a register when he was eighteen. These days, he goes by Jason Beadle.”

“Did he serve time?”

“Yeah, but get this, only six months, and he served half that for good behaviour. Now, who the fuck touches a little kid and gets that, unless the judge was bent?”

“How old was the kid?”

“Eight. I got the court transcripts, make of it what you will, but it sounds to me like his charges were played down. This fucker raped that kid and got it down from sexual assault of a minor under the age of thirteen to sexual assault by touching. And to top it off, it wasn’t heard at the Crown Court where it was originally scheduled but in the Magistrates’. The difference in punishment between the two courts is nine and a half years.”

I sigh heavily. “Thanks, Leo. Send it over.” I disconnect and lean against the wall. Maybe that’s why she hates him so much, because of what he’s done.

“Hey,” a small voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I push off the wall. I recognise Victoria’s friend from the bar. She’s sitting on the stairs, watching me. “Is she okay?” I give a nod, and she looks relieved. “Good.”

“Phoebe?” a man’s voice barks from somewhere above, and she jumps up.

“Coming,” she says, giving me a small smile and running up the stairs.

I go back into the bedsit. “You need to pack up some things,” I tell Victoria. She doesn’t respond, and I move closer to see her chest rising and falling. I smile to myself, swooping down and taking her nipple in my mouth, sucking it until it hardens. She stirs, stretching out and smiling sleepily. “Wake up,” I whisper. “Pack your shit.”

Her eyes open. “Huh?”

“I have a place for you to stay.” It’s not what I’d planned, but I need to keep her safe until I can figure out what kind of threat her brother is to her.

She frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“A place,” I repeat, irritated that she isn’t listening. “A safe place where he can’t upset you.”

“No,” she says firmly, and I see that stubbornness return. “You’re not sticking me in some shag pad. I like it here.”

I look around in disdain. “Really? You like this cupboard?”

She narrows her eyes. “It might seem like a shithole to someone like you, but to me, it’s my own space.”

“You rent it,” I remind her, “and there is no space.”

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