Page 50 of Dancing With Delusion

He keeps my face cupped in his hands as he looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He releases me and straightens his jacket. Dmitry’s father steps into view, and I frown. “Give us a moment,” says Dmitry. “I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

“About what?” I snap, pushing to sit straighter. Having that man near me makes my skin crawl, and there’s a hint of glee in his eyes as he gives a nod before handing over some paperwork to Dmitry and leaving.

Dmitry takes a deep breath. “We think it might be best if you go away for a few days.”

My heart rate speeds up. “What?”

“Just until you feel better.”

“I feel fine,” I snap.

“Victoria, you’re not fine,” he says with a sigh. “You’re in the hospital. You tried to . . .” He trails off, and I glance down at my bandages.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I hiss. “I went in too deep, that’s all.”

“It’s just for a short time. My father knows the hospital?—”

I give a cold, empty laugh. “I’m sure he does. I bet he swooped right in here to make the offer, right?”

“It’s to help you.”

“It’s to help you,” I scream. “He wants me out the way and you know it. This is him getting what he wants.”

Marshall appears in the doorway holding two coffees. He frowns. “What’s going on?”

“Get him out,” I yell.

“Victoria, calm down,” Dmitry orders.

“I’m not going into a fucking mental hospital,” I snap. “You don’t have my permission.”

“A what?” asks Marshall, looking alarmed as he places the coffees down.

“It’s for the best,” Dmitry tells Marshall.

“Boss, listen to me,” he begins, moving between us. “I don’t think Tori is unwell.”

Dmitry scoffs. “You suddenly got a degree in mental health?”

“No, but I’ve been thinking about it all, and what if someone is setting her up?”

Dmitry scowls. “What are you implying?”

“What if Vladimir is using one of your men to frame Tori, making her look crazy to get her out the way?”

“Exactly,” I cut in.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps. “Firstly, I trust all my men. They work for me, not my father. And secondly, you’re only feeding her hope by making bullshit excuses. She’s unwell, and we have doctors who agree she needs real help.”

“What if I’m right?” asks Marshall.

“And what if you’re not?” Dmitry returns, getting in his face. “What if she walks out of here and gets a second chance to fucking kill herself?”

“I didn’t try to kill myself,” I repeat.

“I’m not taking the risk. She’s going to the hospital and that’s the end of it.” He stomps out, and I stare at Marshall.

“I’m not crazy,” I mutter.

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