Page 30 of Dancing With Delusion

“Yes, I got the fucking picture,” I snap.

She scribbles in her notepad. “What do you think the next step should be?” I shrug. “Stop running? Ask him outright to discover the truth for yourself?” she suggests.

I give a nod. Confronting Dmitry while staying calm will be hard. Running is the easiest option, but I have this need to prove to Harriet that I’m working on myself. And a small part of me wants to do this, to prove to myself I can.

On the way home, a plan forms in my mind. Dmitry asked me to be waiting for him naked, so I’ll do as he’s asked. But this time, I’ll play a game to get to the truth. No shouting, no throwing shit.

I keep an eye out the bedroom window, and when I see his car coming to a stop outside, I take my place at the foot of the bed, lowering to my knees. I bow my head, knowing this is exactly what he craves—me in submissive mode.

He enters the bedroom a few minutes later, and I hear him exhale. A small smile plays on my lips as I remain in place. “Now, this is what I like to come home to.” I hear the glee in his voice and then his footfalls as he stalks towards me. He places his thumb under my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, full of lust, but his answers will determine how this latest dance plays out.

I rise to my feet and smile at him seductively, licking my lips. “Did you have a nice meal, Sir?”

“Nothing compares to coming home to you, my krasota,” he says with a smile, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hum in approval at the taste of his warm whiskey breath. Tori, get a grip, I scold myself, now is not the time to give into temptation. “And your father? Was it nice to have some male bonding time?”

“Like everything with my father, it was a ball ache.”

“I’m sure you missed female company.”

He frowns slightly but then smiles. “Forget the small talk, my krasota.”

I pull away, placing my palms on his chest and pushing him back gently. “You’re using the same lips to kiss me as you’ve had pressed against your little cum slut?” I step back from his grasp.

His brow furrows as my words penetrate his brain. “I was with my father, my krasota,” he soothes, reaching for me.

I shrug him off again. “Nuh-uh, don’t lie to my face, Dmitry.” I’m calm and collected, though deep inside, rage runs through every single fibre, desperately trying to break free. But I have this under control.

He moves quickly, grabbing my wrist, and I feel my pulse racing under his touch. Keep your composure, Tori. I inhale and straighten my shoulders. “No, you don’t, Mr. Volkov. You don’t get to manipulate me with your bullshit lies and gentle caresses. If it’s Vivian you want, let me fucking leave, because you can’t have us both,” I spit as I snatch my arm out of his grasp.

He runs his hands through his hair, looking exasperated at my words. “Tori,” he begins. He only uses my preferred name when he’s trying to sweet talk me, but that’s not going to work tonight. “I was at a business meeting with my father. Why would I lie?”

Before I know it, my hand rears back and slaps him across the face. Damn, I was doing so well.

“Fuck you, Dmitry, and your promises of forever.” I push him back as hard as I can muster. “I told you before, I’m not a fucking damsel in distress, and you certainly aren’t my knight in shining armour.” I shove him towards the door. “It’s okay for you to nearly murder a man for being in the same car as me while I fuck myself, but you can fuck who the hell you like? Get the fuck out. I don’t want you and your wandering cock anywhere near me,” I shout as he stumbles through the door and I slam it in his shocked face.

I slide down to the floor and notice my hands shaking. The enormity of what I’ve just done weighs heavily on me. So, I slapped him, my bad, but I didn’t go completely mental. I feel like it’s a win for my recovery, right?

Dmitry bangs his fist on the door, and I feel it vibrate against my back. “Victoria,” he shouts as he connects with the door over and over, “open this fucking door.”

“There’s plenty of spare rooms in this house, Mr. Volkov. Go find one, because tonight, your company isn’t required,” I shout back, resting my head on my knees. “At least, not by me.”

His banging stops and he sighs heavily, then I hear his footsteps walk away.

Dmitry

Isit in my office for an hour staring into space while I swill a half-drunk whiskey in my glass. There’s definitely an improvement in her mood—she didn’t break anything, unless you count my face. I scrub my hand over my cheek and smile at the sting she left there.

There’s a knock on the door and Marshall enters. He looks unsure, but I give a small smile, letting him know I’m not about to break his bones again. I point to the seat opposite me, and he carefully lowers into it, wincing. “Still in pain?” I ask.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve, sir. What can I do for you?”

“Victoria,” I mutter, staring down into my glass.

“I called Nik, and he agreed for her to see Harriet,” he declares, looking panicked. I frown slightly, but I don’t bother letting on that Nik never relayed it to me. I was so busy ranting about my father when I got in the car, maybe he didn’t get a chance.

“Go on,” I urge.

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