Page 59 of Dancing With Delusion

“He wasn’t happy.”

“He was,” he snaps. “But you came along with your cheap perfume and crazy behaviour, distracting him from his duties, intriguing him.”

“It’s really not the end of the world,” I reason. “I’m not that bad. You just didn’t get to know me. Besides, I’m done with your son. He’s hurt me too much.”

He laughs, throwing his head back. “You think that’s your choice? Dmitry always gets what he wants.”

“Not this time.”

“Your rejection will only spur him on and distract him further.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, “then put me on a plane far away from you all. Let me live my life and you get Dmitry all to yourselves.”

“You know too much,” he mutters. “I can’t let you leave.”

“So, you’re going to kill your grandchild?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“If you keep me here for nine months, Dmitry will come for me.”

“Which is why I may as well take you back to Russia.”

“Russia?”

“Maybe. Something tells me you’re way more trouble than you’re worth. I’ll make my decision soon. You’ll be the first to know.”

I groan when he rises to his feet. “Until then, eat.” He throws an apple at my feet, and if I wasn’t so hungry, I’d throw it in his face. Instead, I reach for it and take a bite, savouring the juicy bitterness.

Dmitry

It’s been another week since I heard anything about how Victoria is responding to treatment, and something doesn’t sit right with me. I’m on edge, and right now, I’m doubting every decision I’ve made recently with regard to my krasota. Every time I contact Harriet for an update, she’s either unavailable or she rushes me off the call with excuses. I feel like she’s hiding something from me. And whenever I try to dig, my father appears and reminds me I haven’t got my head in the game. He’s like a broken record.

I sit at my office desk in the manor, a whiskey in one hand and my phone in the other, willing it to ring so I can hear her voice. I don’t even care if it’s to give me shit, I just need to hear her and know that she’s okay.

I place the glass on the desk and run my fingers over the condensation, remembering the last time we were in this room together and she was on her knees for me. When did it all get so fucking complicated?

There’s a knock at my door, bringing my attention to the here and now. “Come in,” I shout. Marshall enters nervously, apprehension radiating from him. “Take a seat,” I offer, indicating to the chair opposite me.

He nods, lowering himself. After a few seconds of silence, I sigh heavily. “Spit it out, Marshall.”

He leans forward in the chair. “Don’t kill the messenger,” he says, smiling nervously, “but I did some digging.” I go to interrupt, but he continues before I have a chance. “I know you asked me to stay out of it, but something didn’t feel right. Yes, Victoria is batshit crazy at times and keeps us all on our toes, but something just isn’t right. Have you heard from her yet?” He says the words so quickly, my brain takes a second to process.

I run my hands over my face and through my hair. “No, not a word.” I know Marshall is right, and I can’t deny it any longer. Something is off, and I don’t blame him for going against me and digging further. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Spill it then, Marshall. I haven’t got all fucking day.”

“Well, first, I went looking into her medical records, just trying to find out which hospital they transferred her to.” He mimics my earlier movement, running his own hands through his hair. “Boss . . .” I can see by the worry on his face that I’m not going to like what I hear next. I brace myself. “Victoria’s pregnant.” He delivers the blow with a coolness only Marshall seems to have. He watches me, waiting for me to respond, but as the words play on repeat in my head, I can’t seem to make my mouth move.

I suddenly slide my chair back and slam my hands on the desk. “What the fuck do you mean she’s pregnant? Why the fuck did I not know?” I spin, putting my fist through the drywall. I never would have sent her away if I’d known. And now, the thought of her being alone, probably thinking I’ve abandoned her, makes me sick to my stomach.

“That’s not all, Boss,” Marshall adds, wincing when I turn to face him. “The hospital they’ve apparently transferred her to doesn’t exist.”

I clench my jaw in anger. “How is that even possible, Marshall?” I ask, my voice low and deadly.

“Harriet signed the paperwork to release her. I imagine the hospital had no reason to question it with her being Victoria’s therapist,” he answers. “I also discovered that your father never flew to Russia last week. He’s been in the U.K. for weeks. He suggested the hospital, right?”

I nod then make my way back to my chair and lower into it. My mind races with questions, and the guilt is ripping me apart. How could I have been so fucking stupid? Why did I not do my own research into where they were taking her? She’s the most important person ever to be in my life and I was stupid enough not to check where the fuck I sent her. The dots begin to connect, and I growl angrily. They’ve taken me for a fucking fool, and I’ve let them.

“The reality is, Boss, there has to be someone on the inside. You’ve got a mole somewhere.”

---