Page 52 of Dancing With Distraction

I think over my night, but everything feels so muddled. “I got in a different taxi and got dropped off here. I was exhausted, so I got straight into bed and went to sleep. He woke me . . .” I shudder at the memory.

Dmitry hesitates before asking, “Did he rape you?”

I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the ground, shaking my head. He releases a long breath, sounding relieved. “I didn’t give him a chance to,” I mutter.

“Good,” he praises, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “Now, we have to get out of here. I don’t want you to look at him.”

“We can’t just leave his body here,” I say, the words rushing out in a panic.

“I’m taking care of it,” he reassures me. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he leads me from the bathroom, making sure I can’t see the kitchen as we exit. One of his men is in my bedroom, stuffing my things into boxes.

“What’s he doing?” I ask Dmitry.

“If anyone asks, you moved out last weekend into my apartment. We’ve got removers coming to get the last of your things.”

We step out, and he leads me to his car, seating me in the passenger seat and fastening my seatbelt before rounding to the driver’s side. A removal van pulls up in front of us, and I watch as men dressed in black clothing get out. “Who are they?” I ask.

“Pig farmers,” he mutters, starting the engine. I whip my head around to look at him, and he gives me a wink. “Let’s get you settled.”

We arrive at his apartment, and he goes straight to the kitchen, telling me to go and get into bed. Instead, I walk over to the large window and stare out over London. Visions of my struggle with Marcus assault my brain and I glance at my hands, checking for blood that has already been washed away. I can’t help the tears that fall. I’m so tired of crying.

Dmitry returns holding a mug of hot chocolate. He stands beside me and hands it to me. I smile, taking it gratefully. “It’s all such a fucking mess,” I whisper.

“You did the world a favour.”

“I hated him, like really hated him, but it wasn’t my job to take his life.”

Dmitry turns me to face him. “What did I say?” he asks. “Those words can’t leave your mouth again, Victoria. What’s done is done. Now, we move forward.”

“How? I can’t just forget.”

“You don’t have a choice.” He pulls out his mobile phone and fiddles with it, glancing up to the corner of the room where I notice a camera. “There’s always someone listening,” he says, “even when you think they’re not.” I stare back at the camera, worry etched on my face. “I’ve turned them off,” he tells me, tucking his mobile back into his pocket.

“Where were you?” I ask, looking back out over London. “When I texted you?”

Now, it’s his turn to look guilty. “I was sleeping on my desk.”

“Why?”

“Because, my krasota, life suddenly felt too heavy and I thought the responsible thing to do was drink an entire bottle of whiskey.”

My lip lifts slightly at the thought of a drunk Dmitry. He’s always so put-together, it’s hard to imagine. “You should’ve been celebrating, and instead, you got drunk alone?”

He takes the mug from me and places it on a nearby table. Then he takes my hands and looks me in the eyes. “I’m not marrying Vivian.”

He looks so sincere, but I struggle to erase the image of his smiling face from my mind as he wrapped her up in his arms. He sees my conflict and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “You have to be patient with me, Victoria. There are so many things that could go wrong when I break off the engagement, but I will break it off.”

I pull my hands free. “Don’t,” I say, and he frowns. “Don’t break it off for me. I’m a mess. What if I get caught? I’ll spend my life in prison. You can’t wait around for me.”

He smirks, pushing his hand into my damp hair and tugging my head back slightly. He steps close until I’m craning my neck to meet his eyes. “I’ve already told you, you’re not going to prison. By the end of today, there will be no body. No body, no crime. And you’re not a mess, my krasota . . . you’re perfect.”

“Why are you helping me?” I whisper, watching his lips and longing for them to be on mine.

“I love you,” he replies, and I inhale sharply. “You are mine and I am yours, so there will be no more hook-ups with other men. I’ll kill every single man who touches what’s mine.”

I shiver at his words. “And Vivian?” I ask.

He finally presses his lips to mine, kissing me until I’m breathless. “Leave her to me.”

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