Page 8 of Dancing With Distraction

I nod. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

“And I do not know you.”

“Nope.” I sigh. “Anyway . . . sorry.”

“You’ve said that part.”

I clench my teeth as Phoebe’s words float through my mind. Stay calm. “And the bill for your car . . .” I continue, noting the scoff that comes from his female hang-on.

“I imagine you’ll have no trouble paying for it?” he asks, almost smirking.

“Actually—”

“Because as you so rightly pointed out, you were wearing a five-thousand-pound dress. You’re a clothes designer, no?”

“Uh-huh.” The lie clogs my throat and comes out more like a squeak as I nod.

“Excellent. I look forward to receiving the money.”

“That’s where I know you from,” says his attachment as she points a red-painted nail in my direction. “Harrods.” I give another nod, praying to God that’s as much as she knows, but then her smile turns cruel and her eyes narrow in a way that tells me she’s got my number. “Shop assistant.”

“Personal shopper,” I correct, and she laughs out loud.

I watch her throw her head back, her black shiny curls bobbing as she laughs. “Oh my god, you helped my friend pick out the worst winter collection. We had to request someone else.”

She’s lying. I haven’t picked out anyone’s winter collection yet, seeing as we’re still early in autumn and I wasn’t in the position last year. Dmitry’s eyes are back to assessing. He’s waiting for a reaction, and I do my best to ignore this bitch and her cackle. “Anyway, I should go.”

“Why did she tell you she was a clothes designer?” she screeches, still clearly amused. “Did you think he’d go for you?” It’s more like a sneer than a genuine question.

I square my shoulders. “I like my men a little less stuffy,” I snap, and his eyes glint in delight. I think he likes my fire.

“Vivian, leave us,” he barks, and she glares at him, waiting for him to take it back. When he doesn’t and his eyes stay pinned on me, she huffs and stomps away.

“Just like a good little puppy,” I whisper.

“Careful, Ognyena Maria, you have no idea who you’re messing with.”

I smile. “When you get bored of little miss tight cunt, come and find me. I’ll show you some real fun.” I turn on my heel, about to walk away, when I’m hauled back to face him. His hand is wrapped tightly around my wrist, and instead of fear, I feel a thrill. He walks me back a few steps until I’m against a wall and out of view of anyone else. My heart beats wildly as he moves so close, we’re practically one.

“You have a filthy mouth,” he whispers close to my ear. “I know a good way to cure that.”

“Trust me when I say many men have tried and failed.”

I feel his breath on my neck, and I close my eyes. His thumb is rubbing the soft area on my wrist, occasionally pressing a little harder so I can feel the beat of my own pulse. “Those men didn’t have what you crave.”

“And what’s that?” I ask, sounding breathy.

His lips brush my ear, and I inhale sharply. “Discipline.”

Before I can respond, he releases my wrist and takes my chin, pinching it between his thumb and fingers. “Now, listen up, temptress. Find a way to come up with my money or I might have to speak with your boyfriend, and by the looks of things between you, he’s not going to be pleased.”

I shrink back, and he releases my chin. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I spit, pushing past him and rushing back to Phoebe.

Dmitry

I don’t know if it pleases me to know that her dinner partner wasn’t her boyfriend, because now, I know there’s no reason for me not to do all the things I’ve been thinking about since I pressed her against the bonnet of my car. I shiver, watching as she grabs her friend and leaves the club.

“What was that about?” asks Vivian, folding her arms over her chest.

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