Page 49 of Dancing With Delusion

I sigh heavily. “What are you talking about?”

“She needs sectioning.”

I laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dmitry, she isn’t well, and therapy isn’t helping or she wouldn’t have tried to end her life.”

“That’s not what she did,” I spit angrily.

“I hear she’s a pro at this,” he remarks. “And you want me to believe she didn’t know what she was doing when she severed her artery?”

“She caught it by mistake,” I snap. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

The door opens and Victoria’s doctor comes in. “I’m sure you’ll agree,” my father says, and the doctor waits for him to continue, “that she needs sectioning.”

He hesitates, looking back and forth between us. “Erm, it’s not a bad idea.” I roll my eyes, and my father gives me a smug smile. “Sometimes patients just need a good rest from daily life. With Victoria refusing to speak to anyone, it’s clear she’s not ready to accept the right help.”

“So, you think locking her up is the answer?” I demand.

The doctor shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I only came in here to tell you I’ve spoken to Victoria’s therapist, and she’s agreed with me that she needs her medication adjusted. But if you’re asking for my advice, I’m just saying not to rule it out. She’s very vulnerable right now.” He leaves, and my father takes a seat.

“Dmitry, you’re unfocussed, and being here isn’t helping. Get her in a hospital and let them treat her. She can’t run away, and you’ll know she’s in good hands.”

“And what if she tells them shit she shouldn’t?” I ask, because the last thing we need is her telling a therapist she killed her brother.

He arches a brow. “It’s the exact reason you shouldn’t fuck someone who isn’t already in this life,” he reminds me. “But luckily for you, I know a good place. I’ll handle it.”

“Why?” I ask warily. “You hate her.”

He pats me on the shoulder. “I don’t hate her. She’s just not for you, but it doesn’t seem to matter what I do or say because you’re determined to stick with her. So, I’ll handle this, and you can get back to work.”

Tori

Dmitry sits beside the bed like he has done on several occasions since I’ve been admitted. He doesn’t seem to care that I refuse to speak to him.

I feel his hand slip into mine, and before I can pull it away, he grips it tighter. “I understand why you’re upset with me,” he begins. “I’ve fucked up more than once when it comes to Vivian, and I haven’t handled any of it well. I don’t want to make excuses, but I don’t know how to deal with any of this.” I keep my eyes fixed ahead, refusing to look at him in case I see some kind of vulnerability. I can’t let him lure me back. “I haven’t really considered your feelings. I’ve been so focussed on the businesses and trying to keep Vivian from bringing me down . . .” He trails off, and I risk a quick glance. He’s exhausted, and my heart twists at the dark circles under his eyes.

“Look at what we’re doing to each other,” I mutter, and he realises I’m watching him. Relief floods his face. He thinks he’s going to break down my defences.

“My krasota, I swear, from this day forward, you will always come first. I can’t lose you.” I begin to shake my head in protest, but he brings my hand to his heart, holding it there. “I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see that.”

“I don’t trust you,” I admit.

He looks hurt at my confession. “After everything?” he queries. “Even Marcus?”

I pull my hand free. “Don’t throw that at me.”

“I’m not,” he rushes to add, “but surely that’s the biggest secret we share and you can trust me with it completely.”

“When I realised you’d lied to me again,” I begin, and he bows his head, “I thought about what Harriet had taught me. I knew I had to stay calm and trust you, but a small part of me had to see for myself, had to prove myself wrong. I stood looking at you both from across the bar, and for the first time, I realised something.” He meets my eyes. “We’re not meant to be together.”

“Victoria,” he says, shaking his head sadly.

“Let me finish,” I snap. “I can never be her. I can’t stand and smile while you make boring small talk with rich wankers. I can’t pretend I understand what the hell you’re talking about when it comes to business. All we have, Dmitry, is sex.”

He moves closer, cupping my face in his hands and gently rubbing his nose against mine. “You’re wrong,” he says firmly. “I don’t want a woman who looks pretty on my arm and knows everything about my fucked-up world. I want you. I want your fire and your crazy. I want you to push the boundaries and keep me on my toes. Victoria, when I thought I’d lost you, I realised I am so madly in love with you that I’d give it all up so we can be together.” My heart swells, and my anger slips away as he places gentle kisses over my face. “We can make this work,” he whispers, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “I promise.”

“I have the paperwork,” barks a voice from behind him, and I feel Dmitry tense.

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