Page 63 of Dancing With Distraction

“Where to, love?” the cab driver asks. I sigh then reel off Phoebe’s address.

We stop outside, and I pay the driver before hopping out. Standing outside my old place, I look up at the building, noting Phoebe’s lights are on. I climb the steps and press the buzzer to hers. She doesn’t even ask who it is before buzzing me up.

I pass my bedsit on the ground floor, staring at the door like it’s suddenly going to burst open and Marcus will come running out. I take a deep, steadying breath. I’ve pushed that night to the back of my mind. Dmitry gave me a talk about acting as normal as possible and moving forward instead of looking back. Easier said than done now I’m faced with the prospect of ending up back here.

I head upstairs and knock lightly on Phoebe’s door, and she swings it open seconds later, frowning when she sees me. “Oh, I thought . . .” She shakes her head. “Never mind.” I know it was my brother she was hoping for.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” I mutter, and she steps to one side, allowing me in.

“Is everything okay?”

I shrug, dumping my bag. “I’m not sure. One minute, everything’s great, and the next . . .” I sigh. “It all moved so fast.” She closes the door as I drop down onto her bed. “I really like him, Phoebes. Like more than anyone I’ve ever met. I think I’m actually starting to . . .” I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. “Love him.”

She smiles sympathetically. “So, what’s the problem?”

I stand, loosening my long coat and opening it slightly to reveal the green silk set I chose especially for Dmitry. “I got all dressed up to surprise him.”

Her mouth falls open. “Wow, that’s quite the outfit,” she says with a grin.

“Right. I make all the effort, turn up to his bar, only to see him leaving with that witch of an ex, Vivian.”

“No fucking way!”

I fasten the coat and sit back down. “Yep.”

“Didn’t you march over and demand to know what the hell was going on?” I bite my lower lip and give my head a slight shake. “Why the fuck not? It’s not like you to let something like that slide.”

“That’s the thing,” I mutter. “Since I met him, I feel like a different person. And I was scared,” I admit, “of going over to him and him telling me he was still with her.”

“You need to talk to him, Tori. If he’s still seeing her, then you need to dump his arse and move on. What’s your gut telling you?”

Before I can answer, Phoebe’s door buzzer goes wild, ringing constantly. She frowns, and I groan out loud, knowing full well it can only be one person. I shake my head. “Don’t answer. It’s him,” I say, going over to the window and peeking out. Dmitry is staring up, so I dart back out of view. “Fuck, he looks pissed.”

“Tori, you’re the one who should be pissed,” she snaps. “Go and demand some answers.”

“I saw you, Victoria! Open the fucking door!” Dmitry yells.

“You’re the one who should be raging,” she continues.

I push the window open and stare down into Dmitry’s angry face. “Where is she?” I ask.

He balls his fists and cranes his neck to look up at me. “I’m not doing this for the entire damn street to hear,” he snaps.

“Fine, don’t.” I slam the window closed with a satisfied smirk, knowing that will send him over the edge.

“He’s kinda hot when he’s mad,” says Phoebe, standing beside me to watch through the window.

“Tell me about it,” I groan, resting my head on her shoulder.

“What’s the plan?” she asks, pulling me away from the window. “Ignore him all night?”

There’s a loud crash from downstairs and we pull apart, staring wide-eyed at one another. The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs sends a nervous thrill through me, and I give a small laugh. “Oh shit,” I whisper.

“Open the fucking door,” Dmitry yells from the other side.

“Oh crap,” Phoebe giggles, “now what?”

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders before marching over to the door and ripping it open with so much force, I surprise myself. “How fucking dare?—”

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