Page 15 of Dancing With Desire

“Okay, we can take it at your pace,” Phoebe agrees, and I nod in appreciation. Being outside scares the crap out of me, but Phoebe is right, I can’t stay in here forever. Sooner or later, Imight come face-to-face with Vivian or Vladimir, and hopefully, I’ll be strong enough to stand up to them.

I notice Marshall worrying his bottom lip and I take pity on him. “Look, they’re hardly going to shoot me in front of everyone. The only reason they got to me before is because they managed to separate me from you and Dmitry. That won’t happen again, right?”

He nods, standing. “Right.”

“So, let’s just grab something to eat and come right back.”

He sighs heavily before nodding in agreement. Phoebe stands, winking at me and heading for the door. “Fabulous.”

We don’t go faras there’s a nice restaurant just around the corner. It’s so close, we can walk, and luckily, they have a table free.

We take our seats and the offered menus. “Can I get you some wine for the table?” the waiter asks.

“No. Water all round, please,” says Marshall.

The waiter leaves, and Phoebe glares at him. “I would’ve liked wine.”

“Tough,” he mutters, regarding his menu.

“Seriously, that moody bullshit you have going on is annoying,” she states, opening her own menu. I smirk when he snipes back with something equally as childish.

“We’re like real housemates,” I announce, closing my menu and placing it on the table. They glance at each other, then at me. “Well, you fight and pick at one another. You’re like brother and sister . . . right?” I arch a brow to get my message across.

“Relax, Tori. Phoebe is way too straitlaced for me,” says Marshall with a grin, then he goes back to the menu. Phoebe’smouth drops open, and she shakes her head before slamming her menu closed and placing it a little too hard on the table, earning glances from diners nearby.

“Are you going to find out the sex of the baby?” she asks, deciding to change the subject.

I shrug. Thinking about the future and other scans makes my heart ache. I don’t want to do this alone.

“I’m sure Dmitry will want to know if he’s having a son,” Marshall utters.

“Why?” I ask, my tone brisk. “What difference will it make?”

He meets my eyes. “Well, yah know, if it’s a boy . . .” He trails off.

“It makes no difference. This child will not be a part of his family.”

“Tori—”

“No,” I snap. “You think I want my child to be like him, like them? Greedy and conniving?”

“Greedy and conniving?” I inhale sharply at the sound of Dmitry’s voice, slowly turning to find him behind me. My eyes trail up his body until they meet his, and then we’re locked in a stare so full of pain, I think my heart might explode.

“Dmitry,” I whisper.

“What are you doing here?” snaps Phoebe.

“More to the point, what are you doing here?” Dmitry counters, dragging his eyes from me and narrowing them on Marshall for an explanation.

“Boss, I?—”

“I’m not a prisoner,” I cut in, suddenly finding my words.

“No,” he agrees, nodding, “but you may well be in danger.”

“As I’ve already explained to Marshall, they’re not likely to kill me in public.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he warns, glancing around.

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