Dancing With Delusion (Distraction #2)

Chapter 1

Tori

I straighten my jacket before pushing open the door to the coffee shop. I don’t know why I feel so nervous. This is my friend, Phoebe, and having coffee with her is like sitting in my favourite old chair and relaxing. It was probably Dmitry’s list of instructions that set me on edge.

My mind wanders back to earlier this morning, when I had finally managed to calm Phoebe’s frantic phone call with an offer to meet in person to discuss the letter she received telling her my foster brother was dead. Dead. But, of course, I already knew that little snippet of information because I was there. I was the one who ended the bastard.

I give my head a shake as I spot Phoebe sitting in the far corner with her head hung, staring into her mug.

I approach cautiously. She seems on edge, and I don’t want to frighten her, but as I slide the chair out to sit, she looks up in alarm. I offer a smile, but she doesn’t return it, making the sick feeling in my stomach swirl faster.

Without a word, she slides a piece of paper towards me and watches as I open it. The scrawled handwriting reminds me of a child, and I take a deep breath before scanning the note. “When did this come? How?”

She pulls out a tissue and wipes her swollen eyes. “I found it first thing. It had been slid under my door.”

“So, this didn’t come in the post?”

She shakes her head. “Why did they put it under my door and not yours?”

I shrug, though I was thinking the exact same thing. “It’s probably just some crazy person, maybe a guy who likes you and got jealous.”

“Nobody knew about me and Marcus,” she whisper-hisses. “And I told you it was weird he just disappeared.”

“It’s not weird,” I counter. “He does this all the time.”

“No,” she snaps, shaking her head and swiping the note back to stare at it. “Something is wrong, I can feel it.”

“The note’s set you on edge, but it doesn’t prove anything.”

“Have you heard from him?” she demands. When I stay quiet, she arches a brow. “Exactly, and neither have I.”

“Christ, Phoebe, he isn’t dead.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I actually wouldn’t put it past him to send that note himself. It’s probably his way of dumping you. He’s always been a coward.”

“His phone’s been off for weeks.”

“Maybe he changed the number.”

“Why aren’t you worried?” she cries, and a few people look over.

“Because,” I hiss, leaning closer, “I know him, and I know what he’s like. I told you this would happen. I asked you not to get involved with him.”

She sniffles, wiping her nose. “I think we should call the police.”

My heart slams hard in my chest. “And have them laugh at us? Phoebe, it’s some wacko writing crazy notes. We can’t go to the police with no evidence.”

“He’s your brother and he’s missing. They’ll take it seriously.”

There’s a steely look in her eyes, and I sigh heavily. “Fine, I’ll report it.” I hold out my hand, and she reluctantly places the note in my palm. “They’re more likely to listen to me as his relation,” I add.

“I’ll come with you.”

I shake my head, pushing to stand. “No. I should call my parents and let them know first. They may have heard from him.”

“I thought you said you’d checked with them.”

This morning when she asked me, I’d lied and told her I’d already asked my parents and they hadn’t spoken to him. Dmitry said it was best not to involve anyone else in the lies in case the police do get involved. Not that they’d find anything—Marcus is long gone.

“I did, a week or two ago, but maybe he’s been in touch since then and they just forgot to update me.”

She also stands, rubbing my arm. “Thanks, Tori. I know you didn’t see eye to eye, but he loves you, and if there’s a chance this note could be true, we owe it to him to find out the truth.”

Marshall opens the car door, and I slide in. He gets in the driver’s seat and turns back to look at me. “Did you get the note?”

I hand it over, and he reads it. “Right, we’ll have some tests run on it. Boss wants me to drop you back home.”

I roll my eyes. “I bet he does. Take me to wherever he is.”

“Come on, Tori, that never ends well. He’s busy.”

“It wasn’t a request,” I snap, pulling the seatbelt on. He reaches for his phone, and I slap his hand away. “Nuh-uh, you’re not warning him.”

He grumbles, starting the engine. “I think you want to get me sacked.”

He drives the five minutes it takes to get to the bar, and I jump out before he can round the vehicle and open my door.

I head for the main doors, which are always unlocked during the day to allow the cleaners to come in and out. I breeze through and head straight for Dmitry’s office. He looks up in surprise when I enter without knocking, his expression turning to confusion. “Didn’t it go well?” he asks, rising to his feet.

I throw myself at him, and he catches me, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I bury my nose into his neck, and he holds me tightly, not stopping even when I hear Marshall enter the room. “Here’s the note,” he tells Dmitry.

“That’s it?” he asks, sounding disappointed. “Marcus is dead? What kind of fucking note is that?”

“Short and sweet,” Marshall jokes.

I squeeze my eyes closed, not wanting to think about the note or Marcus. Dmitry lowers to his seat, keeping me with him and placing my legs either side of his. “What did Phoebe say?” he asks, trying to prize my arms from his neck. I squeeze them tighter, and he gives up with a laugh.

“She’s not dropping it. She wants me to go to the police.”

“Can’t we just take the bitch out?” asks Marshall, and I spin my head in his direction, narrowing my eyes.

“No, we can’t just fucking kill my best friend, Marshall.”

Dmitry chuckles again. “Relax, my krasota , no one is killing Phoebe.”

I bring my eyes back to his. “I don’t want to go to prison, Dmitry.”

He smiles, running his thumbs over my cheeks. “That won’t happen, Victoria.”

“But if they agree with Phoebe and start looking into things . . .”

“They’ll see a child sex offender on the run.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” I mutter.

He pulls me closer, kissing me slowly and reminding me of last night, when he spent hours ravishing my body. Last night, before all this shit happened. I groan in annoyance. “Who would’ve sent a letter to Phoebe? Surely, if they really knew anything, they’d send it to me, seeing as I’m his foster sister.”

“Unless they know what you did,” Marshall says, and Dmitry gives him a look of despair as my eyes widen in panic.

“Oh my god, do you think someone knows the truth?”

“Marshall, go and run tests on this thing,” he snaps, sliding the note back across his desk. “Drop the lock on the way out.”

When he’s gone, Dmitry unfastens the buttons on my blouse. “We talked about staying calm, my krasota . No matter what.”

“That was before your henchman told me someone could know what I did.”

“How would they know? There’s only us who know.”

“Unless . . .” He ignores me, pushing my blouse off my shoulders and lowering the cups of my bra. “Unless you told someone who would want to see me locked up.”

“Like?” he asks, dipping his head to take my nipple in his mouth.

“Like your fucking ex?” I snap, pushing off his knees and pulling my bra back in place.

Dmitry groans, dropping his head back in his seat. “Why would I tell Vivian one of your biggest secrets?”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what your pillow talk is like, Dmitry.”

“You think I fuck Vivian and lie beside her, telling her all about you?” he asks, quipping a brow.

The image pops into my head and I’m instantly jealous. “Maybe.”

“I tell you I love you and ask you to marry me, and you accuse me of sleeping with Vivian.” He shakes his head in irritation then opens his laptop. “Go home, Victoria.”

I hate his dismissal. “I’m just worried,” I admit, my voice low. “If she knows, she’ll hang me out to dry just so she can get her claws back into you.”

He leans back in his chair, fixing me with a glare. “You think the mafia princess would go to the police?”

“I don’t know, Dmitry,” I snap, “but I’m scared, okay.”

He relents, pushing to stand and moving towards me. “You can’t lose your composure over a stupid note, Victoria. A note that doesn’t even say how he died or that you were involved. Now, why don’t I ask Marshall to take you shopping?”

I arch a brow. “Why would I want to go shopping?”

“Because you need clothes suitable to meet my father.”

Dmitry

The thought of having my krasota in the same room as that man makes my skin crawl, but hiding her away like a dirty little secret, will only intrigue him more. And as he announced he was flying back to London this morning, I have no choice but to make that happen now.

“What does that mean?” she asks, suddenly looking nervous.

I place a kiss on her forehead. “He’s coming back to discuss business.”

“Vivian’s father?” she guesses, glancing at the spot behind my desk where she last saw him. “That’s on the agenda of things I need to tell him,” I admit.

“He doesn’t even know?” Victoria screeches. “Does she know?” I pull out one of my credit cards and hold it out. She stares at it in disdain. “I know you’re not about to buy me off with a card.”

I groan, realising all too late it’s a mistake to treat Victoria like a princess. I retract the card, deciding I’ll transfer the money directly into her account. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Victoria,” I say as patiently as I can muster, “I’m here to do the worrying so you don’t have to.”

She scowls. “And I should just spend money and look pretty?”

“No,” I tell her, placing another kiss on her forehead before rounding my desk again and sitting down. “I’d also like you to fuck too,” I tease, and she huffs before stomping from the office.

When my father arrives, Nik leads him through to the office. I left strict instructions that no one was to treat him any differently to any of my other business associates. Because if we’re about to cut ties, and become enemies, I don’t want him to feel welcome.

He heads straight for the minibar and grabs a decanter of whiskey, pouring himself a large one before bringing his eyes to me. “Long flight?” I ask.

“It’s not the flight that bothers me, Dmitry. It’s the news you’re about to tell me.”

“News?”

“Don’t play games. I’ve had time to think over our last talk. I know you’ve broken off the engagement with Vivian.”

I smirk. “You think that’s why I asked to meet?”

“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.”