Page 39 of Dancing With Delusion

Dmitry

Ipushed her to this, I know I did, but even knowing that, it doesn’t stop the anger pulsing through my body. I pace the reception area, fighting the urge to go marching back in there and scream at her to make her see she’s acting fucking crazy.

My mobile rings and I snatch it from my pocket. “What?”

“Your father asked me to call to see if everything is okay,” says Vivian, and for once, her tone sounds caring and calm.

“Did he?” I snap. “That’s the first time he’s given a crap.”

“Dmitry,” she says softly, “you know we’re all worried. We’ve said it numerous times. I thought you had her with a therapist.”

I scowl. “How do you know that?” I demand, because I’ve been very cautious about who knows about this.

“Your father mentioned it.”

“He shouldn’t have. It’s private.”

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“I don’t believe we were ever that, Vivian.”

She sighs, and I wonder why she just doesn’t give up trying to be nice when I only ever give her shit. “Well, business partners at least. I’m sure it’s hard to watch her going through whatever this is.”

“It’s nothing,” I bark.

She gives a small laugh. “She turned up to our meeting wearing a ripped-up suit.”

I roll my eyes and rub at my forehead. “Well, she likes fashion, you know that.”

It breaks the ice a little and she gives a relieved laugh. “Yes, I saw, but maybe she needs to work on those designs.”

“I have to go,” I mutter.

“Okay. But, Dmitry, I’m here if you need someone.”

“I don’t,” I say firmly. The last thing I need is to blur the lines I’ve so clearly drawn.

“There’s no ulterior motive. I’m here any time,” she offers then disconnects.

I sigh heavily and drop down in a seat. I don’t know how much more I can take of Victoria’s craziness. I love her, that’s not in doubt, and yes, I like her danger and the way she doesn’t give a fuck who’s watching, but she doesn’t know when to switch it off. In fact, there’s no off switch, clearly. And there are too many eyes watching, waiting for me to break so they can take it all. I can’t walk away with nothing after I’ve spent my life becoming this man. Not even for her. And if it comes down to her or everything I have, I’m not sure I can take the risk.

It’s another half-hour before Harriet steps from her office, minus Victoria. I stand and ask, “Where is she?”

She hesitates. “I’m about to finish up the session. I’ve booked her in again for tomorrow morning. She’s feeling embarrassed right now, and I have some concerns, but maybe get her settled in the car and we can talk about it in the office?”

I give a nod, and she disappears, returning minutes later with my krasota, who looks drained and exhausted. A pang of guilt hits me hard. I slip my hand into hers, but she pulls away, folding her arms over her chest and passing me to head out to the car. I sigh and follow. I stand on the top step, watching as Nik opens the door and she slides in. “I’ll be right out,” I tell him before heading back inside.

“Take a seat,” Harriet instructs, but I ignore her and go over to the window where I can keep an eye on the car. The last thing I need is Victoria breaking free again and running around London dressed like a crazy hooker. “Or stand,” she mutters, joining me by the window.

“Given the things you’ve told me about Victoria, and the things she’s offered herself, I feel we’re dealing with a personality disorder.”

I scowl. “She’s just . . . extra.”

“Unstable personality disorder to be more precise,” she continues. “Her impulsivity, her outbursts of anger, the paranoia and mood swings, it all fits.”

“She doesn’t need a diagnosis,” I snap. “She came here for help.”

Harriet offers a sympathetic smile, something she’s never shown me before because she’s usually so cool and stand-offish. “I can treat her better once I know the diagnosis. There’s medication and therapy, all things that will help get Victoria back on track.”

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