Page 4 of Dancing With Delusion

“I dread to think.”

“What’s worse, Father?” I ask, placing my elbows on the desk and clasping my fingers together. “Me dumping Vivian or me marrying a nobody?”

He takes a large gulp from his whiskey. “So, you’re marrying her?”

I give a slight nod. “Yes.”

“It’s disappointing, Dmitry.”

“I’m sure the thought of your only son being happy is extremely disappointing,” I mutter dryly, “but that’s not why I asked to meet because despite what you think, I neither want nor need your approval on my marrying Victoria. It’s Ronnie Fraser that I want to discuss.”

“I landed ten hours ago, and I’ve already heard whispers of the chaos you’re causing.”

“Chaos?” I repeat. “Then you’re talking to the wrong people. Business is booming.” I slide a file towards him, and he flips it open, scanning the increased percentages I had printed out to show the profit I’ve made in the last four weeks since upping our supply. “With Ronnie out the picture, things are improved, no?”

He frowns in irritation, probably hating the fact I’m proving him wrong. We never needed Ronnie. “You think this impresses me?”

“Not much impresses you, Father. I learned that a long time ago. But it shows that cutting out the middle-man was worth it.”

He closes the file, “And how exactly did you do that?” he asks, arching a brow. “I haven’t been able to get hold of him for some days.”

“That’s the news,” I say, wincing. “Ronnie is dead.”

Victoria greets me at the door, dressed to impress. I take in the long purple dress, admiring the slit showing flashes of her slender thigh when she walks, and I smile. “My krasota, you are exquisite.” I try to pull her in for a kiss, but she dodges my advances.

“Nuh-uh, you are not getting me out of this dress when it took me ages to look this good.”

We arrive at the hotel just half an hour later to attend a charity function raising money for children who have suffered abuse. It’s a charity close to Victoria’s heart and now my own. “Do I have to bow?” she whispers as we enter the building hand-in-hand.

I smirk. “To my father?”

“Yes.”

“No, my krasota. He doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

She places a hand on her stomach and releases a long breath. “I am so nervous.”

My father spots me as we manoeuvre through the crowd, and when his eyes fall on Victoria, his brows pinch together in annoyance. “Father,” I say, forcing a smile, “this is Victoria.”

“Hi,” she almost squeaks out.

This irritates him further. “Vivian is here. You need to go and speak to her,” he says bluntly.

“I’ll sort that later.”

“Maybe taking her to dinner will soften the blow.”

Victoria stiffens beside me, sliding her hand from my own. “Please,” I hiss in his direction, “show some fucking respect.” I grab her hand and lead her away. “Ignore him,” I mutter. “I have no intention of meeting with Vivian let alone taking her to dinner.” I pull her into my arms, planting a kiss on her cheek. It’s out of character for me to show affection in public, but I need her to see I’m serious about this. Vivian’s come between us far too much lately. “I love you.”

“He’s got a point,” she mutters, pressing her cheek into the palm of my hand as I slowly brush my thumb over her lips. “She needs to know her father is dead.”

“Deep down, she already knows the truth,” I say. “It’s the life we lead.”

Tori

The waitress passes us with a tray of Champagne, and I take one and knock it back. This isn’t my scene and my nerves are getting the better of me. Dmitry eyes me suspiciously as I place the glass back on the tray and take another. I don’t even like Champagne, but if I’m going to endure the company of Vivian and Dmitry’s father, I need something to dull the unsettled feeling in my stomach caused by the leering eyes.

“Take your time, Victoria. We all know how you get when you’ve drunk too much,” he whispers, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. I let out a long breath that I hadn’t even realised I was holding. “Relax,” he says as he takes the glass from me and places it on a nearby table. He grabs my hand, guiding me through the crowd to the dance floor.

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