Page 60 of Dancing With Desire

He glances around to make sure no one is listening, not that anyone employed by Dmitry would dare talk. “It’s not what it looks like,” he almost whispers, his eyes searching my own. “Keep calm, for the sake of the baby.”

“The baby?” I scoff. “You think me walking into that shitshow is going to keep me calm?”

“She was here when I arrived, dressed like that. I think she planned one last attempt at seduction,” he rushes out, gripping tightly onto my hands.

“How did she know you’d be here?” I demand.

“She called the house, and someone told her I was headed here.”

“And how the hell did she end up . . . dead?” I ask in an angry whisper.

“That was always the plan, Victoria. It just happened sooner than I thought.”

I pull my hands free and fold them over my chest. “You agreed I could be there, and now, I find her like that, alone with you, half-naked.”

He cups my cheeks and smiles. “The opportunity arose, so I took it. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“I’m sure her state of undress contributed to that,” I snap.

“Mykrasota, we’ve been here before, and each time, I tell you that she is nothing to me. I was furious seeing her like that after everything she’d done. And now, she’s no longer a threat to you or our child.”

I drop my head and sigh. What have I become? I’m angry because I wasn’t there. After everything she’s done to me, I deserved to see her take her last breath. How sick does that make me? I shudder as I try to gather my emotions.

Dmitry hooks his finger under my chin and tips my head back until we’re making eye contact again. “No regrets,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. “She was a threat, and now, she’s not. You are mine, mykrasota. No one will ever harm you again.”

I swallow my hurt pride and give a nod. “No regrets. She deserved it.”

Somehow, feeling this way makes me realise I’ll never be the same again. There’s a beast inside me, awoken by Marcus and now Vivian. But I don’t feel sad at their deaths. They were bad people who didn’t care about hurting me. And now, with Dmitry by my side, and our child on the way, I know I’d do the exact same to protect them. Anything. No regrets. It’s a fierceness thatI’ll hold on to forever now, because I never want to be a victim again.

I push onto my tiptoes and place a kiss against his lips. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I want this arrangement here.”I point to the picture in the wedding magazine. We are surrounded by different swatches, bridal magazines, and food choices as we sit at the dining room table.

“What about this one?” Phoebe asks. She was ecstatic when I asked her to be my maid of honour, and even when I explained there was only a week to plan, she didn’t seem phased. She’s been my rock over the last few years, and I wouldn’t have considered anyone else to stand beside me on the most important day of my life.

“No, I want them to be subtle, nothing too crazy,” I say as I take a sip of my water.

She laughs. “Says the one who’s marrying the head of the fucking Russian mafia, leaving only a week to plan an entire wedding.”

“Touché,” I reply, also laughing.

Rachel, the wedding planner Dmitry hired to help me pull this thing off, enters carrying two dress bags and hangs them on the back of the door. “Phoebe and Poppy’s dresses,” she announces, doing a small curtsy and laughing. “I told you they’d arrive on time.” We’d ordered them on such short notice, I was convinced they wouldn’t arrive, but she had connections, which is just one of the reasons I adore her. She’s so good at what she does, and nothing has been too much trouble. “Wanna see?” she asks, grinning as we both push to our feet.

I opted for a long gown in maroon that gathers at the waist, knowing it would complement their figures beautifully. It’s important they feel just as amazing as me on the day. It’s been such a hard year for us all, and this wedding will be the turning point.

Phoebe runs the silk material between her fingers with a happy sigh. “I love it,” she whispers.

“You’ll look incredible,” I say.

“It must have cost a small fortune,” she murmurs, and when she brings her eyes to mine, she looks ready to cry.

I smile. “Well, like you said, I’m marrying into the Russian mafia, so no expense will be spared, especially for my best friend.”

She turns to me, wrapping me in her arms. “Thank you, Victoria. I love it.”

“Don’t get soppy me on me now, Phoebs, my hormones are all over as it is. Go and try it on.”

She nods, grabbing the hanger and rushing off upstairs.

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