Page 23 of Dancing With Desire

I almost smile. “Nothing bad happened,” I whisper. “And if it makes it easier, tell him you didn’t know. Tell him I was being difficult and refused to let you in the place. Whatever you want that’ll get you out of trouble. But don’t tell him about Vivian.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Because she doesn’t deserve any more airtime. It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anytime soon, does it, so I have to get used to seeing her around.”

My phone rings and I hand Marshall’s back to him before clipping my seatbelt back into place and answering my phone. “Hello?”

“Ms. Harding? It’s Lucinda from Stiletto Scene. We’d like to offer you the position of store assistant.”

I inwardly groan. Vivian knew I was there for a job and she might come back and check. “Actually,” I say with a sigh, “I just accepted another from an interview I had yesterday,” I lie. “But thank you so much. I really appreciate your time.” I disconnect.

“You got the job?” asks Marshall sadly.

“Yep, and Vivian strikes again.”

I’ve been homefor less than an hour when I hear Marshall at the door with what sounds like an irate Dmitry. I sit up on my bed and listen, recognising the hushed whispers. I pull on a shirt and wrap it around myself before going into the living room. Marshall spins to face me, almost looking apologetic. “Did we wake you?” he asks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I mutter, staring at Dmitry. “What do you want?”

He arches a brow, and his chest heaves in that way it does when he’s angry but doesn’t want to lose his shit. Sometimes, I wish he would, just so I could see how he really feels. “You just left,” he says, still sounding shocked.

“So?”

“So?” he repeats, and his eyes narrow as his fists clench into balls.

“Marshall, could you give us a minute?” I ask politely.

“I said I’d get Phoebe from work,” he replies, looking relieved as he grabs his car keys. “Take it easy, boss, yeah?” he suggests,looking Dmitry in the eye before slapping him on the shoulder and leaving.

Dmitry stares after him. “I pay him to watch you, and now, he thinks he can stand between us.”

“Maybe he recognises it the same as I do,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest. “That it’s you I need protecting from.”

He glares for a second, his chest still heaving with anger. “You used me today,” he says, and for a second, I feel a tug on my heart.

“Not true,” I mutter, staring at the floor. “You said I could come to you when I had the urge, so I did.”

“Will that agreement stay in place if we never get back together?” he asks, and my head whips up. I hadn’t thought of that. “Will I always take you into the dungeon to squash the urges you have to self-destruct?” He sounds pissed, and I press my lips together in a fine line. “Will I be expected to never move on so I can be at your beck and call to use whenever you feel like it?” Bitterness laces his words.

“You’re thinking of moving on?” I ask, trying to sound unaffected.

“Isn’t that what you want?” he spits, taking a step closer. “To move on? That’s what you said. You want to find a man who can love you for all the crazy,” he repeats my earlier words like they leave a bad taste in his mouth. “Will he be able to chase the urges away, Victoria?” He’s standing so close now, I feel the warmth of his breath as it brushes past my cheek.

“I’m trying to get through one day at a time right now,” I mutter. “I haven’t thought about the future.”

“Because I think,” he says, taking a stray piece of my hair and wrapping it around his finger, “that you need someone who can keep you grounded, Victoria. Someone who can tame the crazy and put it to good use.”

“I think you should leave,” I mutter.

His hand pushes into my hair, taking a handful and tipping my head back to look at him. “I miss you,” he says, gently rubbing his nose along my jawline. I close my eyes, my willpower melting away. “I miss your smart mouth.” He places a light kiss to the side of my lips. “Please, Victoria, forgive me.”

“You need to leave now,” I say, taking a deep breath and moving from his touch. His hands fall to his sides, and he stares at the ground. “Marshall promised me you wouldn’t come here. He said this would be a safe space from you and Vivian and all the other shit that you bring.”

He gives a slight nod, still not meeting my eyes as he turns to leave. He gets to the door and rests his hand against it. “I love you,” he mutters, pulling it open and leaving.

Ten minutes later,Phoebe comes in. “Marshall said Dmitry was here?” she asks, dropping her bag and rushing to kneel before me on the couch.

“So much for this being a safe place. Only when it suits him, right?” I mutter.

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