Page 46 of Dancing With Distraction

I growl, struggling to contain my anger. “Bullshit. I just heard what she said.”

“It’s a show,” he hisses. “It’s all a fucking show.”

I clap. “Well, bravo, it was fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Look, go home, let me come over tomorrow and explain everything.”

I shake my head, starting to walk away. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to listen to your lies and your promises of a sexless marriage to her. I’m done.”

“No,” he barks, “it’s not fucking done until I say it is.”

I turn to face him, continuing to walk backwards. “We’re over, Dmitry. Done. Finished. Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Tori . . .”

“This isn’t me playing hard to get or throwing a tantrum, Dmitry. I am serious. If you show up at my door again, I’ll call the police and have you arrested. Have a great life with the Wicked Witch of the East. I hope you’re both very fucking happy.”

I round the corner, and when I’m certain he hasn’t followed me, I stop and lean against a nearby wall to gather myself. I’m unable to stop my tears this time, but I bite my lower lip to stop the sound of my shattering heart escaping. I’m not sure how long I’m there before a car slows and the driver’s window goes down. Marshall gives me a sympathetic smile. “Get in.”

“I can walk,” I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.

He gets out the car and opens the back door. “I didn’t ask if you had the use of your legs, Victoria. Get in, I’ll take you home.”

I slide into the backseat, and he closes the door before jumping back into the driver’s seat and pulling into traffic.

“Did he send you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“He’s getting married,” I state.

“He is.” I rest my head against the cool glass. “But it’s not as it seems.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let the dust settle and I’m sure you can work something out.”

“No,” I mutter. “It’s better this way. Besides, he was way too bossy.”

Marshall smirks at me through the mirror. “He likes to be in control.”

“Of everything,” I add, nodding. “And it was kind of pissing me off.” A plan forms in my drunken brain and I send a text to a guy I used to booty call before I met Dmitry.

Me: Long time no sex. Are you free?

His reply is immediate, telling me he is. I send him the address and settle back in with a grin on my face. Fuck Dmitry. “The best way to get over someone,” I tell Marshall, “Is to get under someone else.”

Dmitry

I grip my phone tightly as I watch Victoria—my Victoria—riding some guy like she’s on a fucking bull. She throws her head back in ecstasy, but I know it’s fake. Her body isn’t responding the way it does when I fuck her.

“Dmitry,” my father calls, and I stuff my mobile in my pocket and head over to where he’s talking business with Ronnie. “We were just discussing a percentage deal.”

“I thought we’d already settled that?” I ask, turning to Ronnie.

“Nothing was in stone,” he says, grinning.

“I believe we agreed to a thirty-seventy split if I married Vivian.” It’s a shit deal, one I wouldn’t usually entertain, but once I have an idea of the scale of what he runs, I plan on taking over completely. Not that I’ve voiced that to anyone but Leo.

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