Page 13 of Dancing With Distraction

“For god’s sake, Tori, get down,” Phoebe shouts.

“I can’t, my fucking foot is stuck,” I growl, panic replacing the excitement. “Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to bloody well help me?”

She laughs hard and gets out the driver side. “This serves you right for ignoring me.”

The men are now slowing as they approach the gate, and a familiar voice says, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” I recognise him as one of Dmitry’s goons from the VIP area.

He sounds amused as he takes in my trapped foot, so I go for comedy and wink. “Erm . . . I got myself into a bit of a bother. You couldn’t help a lady out, could you?”

“You like getting yourself into trouble, don’t you, Victoria?” He gives my foot a shove until it pops free, and his smile fades as he fixes me with a hard stare. “Be very careful. You’re playing with fire, and this could be seen as borderline stalker behaviour.”

I try to think of a reason why I’m scaling the gates, something that would make this a little less embarrassing. “Well, you know, I thought, seeing as you didn’t let me into the VIP area, I’d check out the stately home instead. Besides, I was just passing.”

“Be on your way before I contact the police.”

I grab Phoebe’s hand, and we head to the car. “And Victoria?” I turn back to face him. “Don’t be passing by here again.”

Dmitry

Marshall rounds the table and lowers until he’s close enough to my ear that he can update me without the entire dinner party hearing our conversation. “It was the girl.” His words wash over me, and I briefly close my eyes in irritation. It’s becoming quite clear this woman isn’t going to leave me alone, and I’m not sure whether that excites me or pisses me off.

“What did she want?”

“She was just passing, apparently.” He sounds amused, and I cock an eyebrow until he straightens his face.

“Where is she now?”

“Gone, Boss. She was with a friend. I warned her not to come back, and they drove off.”

“It seems our warnings fall on deaf ears. Maybe I should plan my own little visit.” I sit back in my chair, effectively dismissing him, and he walks away.

“Everything okay?” asks Ronnie, Vivian’s father. I give a nod, taking a large gulp of my red wine.

Vivian leans closer, keeping her voice low. Since our encounter yesterday, she’s been on her best behaviour. “You look stressed,” she whispers, and I feel her hand on my knee under the table. She begins to slide it upwards, nearing my cock, and I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes until she removes it.

I throw my napkin on the unfinished plate of food. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite, and now, my head is full of her . . . again. “Excuse us for a moment,” I say, taking Vivian’s hand and pulling her to stand.

I lead her from the room and down the hall to my office. It’s the closest room where we won’t be interrupted, and the second we step inside, I slam her hard against the door, knocking the breath from her. “Do you think it’s appropriate to touch me the way you were in front of your father?”

She immediately lowers her eyes to the ground. “No, Sir.”

“Tell me your safe word, Vivian,” I demand, stepping back and unfastening my belt.

She thinks, taking too long on purpose, and I crack the belt against the floor, startling her. “Slut,” I snap. “Your safe word will be slut.”

“Sir,” she agrees.

As she bends before me, lifting her dress and removing her underwear, it’s Victoria I see. She touches her toes, pushing her tanned backside in the air. I run my palm over it, grabbing a handful and squeezing. She hisses, and I bring my hand down hard against the skin, instantly pinking it. “Why did you touch my thigh?” I ask, circling her.

“To check you were okay, Sir.”

I bring the belt down on her backside, and she cries out in surprise. “Liar.”

“I wanted to please you,” she cries. “I wanted to touch you.”

I bring the belt down again, and she flinches, earning herself another hit. The need to punish Victoria for coming to my home clouds my mind, and I lose count of the stripes, only breaking the mist when I hear sobbing and the faint sound of the word ‘slut’. I immediately drop the belt and take in Vivian’s bleeding thighs. Fuck.

“Vivian,” I whisper, unsure how to approach her as she crawls on her knees to put space between us.

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