Chapter 15

Dmitry

I call my father and the usual tone on the line isn't the one I get when I call him in Russia, which probably means he's back in the U.K. I groan, although it might be a welcome relief to have him watch over Vivian for a while.

He answers right before I'm about to disconnect. "Dmitry?"

"You're back in the U.K.?"

"Erm . . . yes, I landed a few hours ago. How is Victoria?"

I frown. He's never shown concern for anyone, especially not her. "Actually, that's why I'm calling you. The phone number the hospital gave me for the facility she was taken to isn't connecting."

"I told you, they'll be in touch when they have an update," he snaps impatiently.

"I know what you said," I mutter, trying to remain calm, "but I'd like an update now. She'll think I've abandoned her."

"Don't be ridiculous," he hisses. "This isn't about you, Dmitry." And instantly, I feel that guilt again. "Victoria won't have even thought about you because she'll be working on herself. They advise that loved ones wait to hear from them."

"Where is this place?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. I'm usually one for research, but the matter was time-critical and my head was all over. I was happy my father took control, if I'm honest.

"I don't have the details on me right now, Dmitry. I am up to my eyes in numbers with Vivian."

I smirk. "Yes, she was struggling with the accounts."

"Can we do this another time?"

"Don't you want to meet up?" I ask, frowning, because he always hassles me when he's here. Now, it seems he can't wait to get me off the call.

"I'll arrange it with you later."

"Please have the details of the hospital sent over ASAP. I really do want to make contact."

Marshall drives me to my next meeting, which is a half-hour out of the city. "Have you heard anything from the hospital?" he asks me, his tone light and airy.

"No."

He glances at me through the rearview mirror. "It's been four days."

"I'm aware," I say on a sigh.

"Surely, they should have been in contact. And if I know Tori . . ." He trails off when I glare at him. "Sorry, it's just I think she would have called you by now. She will hate being away from you like this."

He's right, I know he is. Victoria would have caused such a fuss, they'd have no choice but to call me. "My father is sending me the details."

"You don't know where she is?" he asks, and I note the concern in his voice.

"Marshall, you're stepping out of your box again," I snap. "Victoria is perfectly fine, and she is being well looked after."

"Okay," he mutters. "One last question," he adds, and I sigh heavily. "Who's paying the fees?"

I hadn't even thought about it, but now I do. I realise my father never even mentioned the fees or when they need paying. "You should concentrate on driving, Marshall."

I'm stepping out the car when my phone rings. I snatch it from my pocket and press it to my ear, not recognising the number.

"Mr. Volkov?"

"Speaking."

"It's Harriet Steele."

I stop walking. "Harriet."

"I wanted to give you an update on Victoria."

"You've seen her?"

She laughs. "I am her therapist, Mr. Volkov."

"Of course," I mutter. "Is she okay? Are they treating her well?"

"She is fine. A little quieter than I'd like, but she's opening up again, which is a good sign. She's comfortable and settling in well."

"And her meds?" I ask. "Is she taking her meds?"

"Of course. She was prescribed Xanax on arrival and didn't fuss."

I relax slightly. "Great. That's good. When can I see her?"

I hear a buzzer in the background. "Mr. Volkov, that's my next client. Look, I'll be honest, I don't think Victoria is quite ready for visitors just yet?—"

"She'll want to see me," I cut in.

"And in time, we'll make sure that happens, but right now, I think it's best that she has no visitors."

"What about a call?"

"I'm so sorry, I really do need to go."

"Can you tell me where the hospital is at least?"

"I'll call you in a few days with an update." She disconnects, and I pull the phone away from my ear and glare at it like it's somehow responsible for what just happened. "Fuck," I mutter.

"Everything good?" asks Marshall, coming up behind me.

"Yes. It was Harriet."

"Victoria's therapist?" he asks, falling into step beside me. "Great. Are you going to visit?"

"No."

"But—"

"Not now, Marshall," I grit out, and he slows, leaving me to go to my meeting in peace.

My meeting takes an hour longer than I'd expected it to, and when I step out, I put a call into Nik. Since our run-in at the hospital, he's been avoiding me wherever possible. He answers on the second ring. "Where the hell are you?" I demand.

"Do you need me?"

"I asked a question."

"I'm just heading to Kat's."

"I'll meet you there." I disconnect and slide into my waiting car. "Stop by V's," I tell Marshall.

I march through the bar to Vivian's office and enter without knocking. My father is leaning over Vivian's shoulder, staring at her open laptop, and I note how cosey they seem. They glance up in unison, and Vivian smiles, sliding her chair back and causing my father to step back to avoid being hit. "Dmitry, what a lovely surprise."

"I spoke to Victoria's therapist," I say, staring directly at my father. "She seemed to rush off when I asked about visiting."

"It was likely she knew you wouldn't take no for an answer and got off the call," he replies dryly. "Can't you just listen to me for once and get your head in the game? Vivian has some amazing ideas for the bar that you need to hear, and the families have noticed you haven't been home so far this year."

"I am home," I say firmly.

"You know what I mean, Dmitry. You're absent and it's being noticed. Now, Victoria is in the best place possible, so please stop worrying about her and take more notice of the businesses."

"I need to pay the fees," I state, and he frowns. "For the hospital. You didn't give me any paperwork, and I've made no payments."

His mobile rings and he glances at the screen before muttering something and heading out the room, leaving me alone with Vivian.

She gives me a sympathetic smile as she rounds the desk. "You look worn out," she says, gently rubbing my upper arm. "Sit down, have a drink, and forget about business for a moment." I suddenly feel so exhausted that I find myself lowering onto the plush couch and burying my face in my hands. A minute passes before she sits next to me, holding out a half-glass of whiskey. "Your father can be hard, but he means well."

"I just can't think straight when she's not around," I mutter. "And what if . . ." I sigh.

"Go on," she encourages.

I knock half the drink back, wincing. "What if she doesn't want to see me?"

"My mother spent many years in and out of those places. It's standard practice to isolate the patient until they're feeling more like themselves."

I drain the glass. "Isolate," I repeat, shaking my head. "I don't want her to be isolated. She's not in prison."

"Maybe throw yourself into work. You clearly need a distraction."

I sigh heavily. "If only it was that easy."

"Yah know, if you're lonely . . ."

I stand abruptly, placing my empty glass on the desk. "Don't finish that sentence, Vivian."

"I'm simply offering a service," she continues. "You're pent-up, and I know it must be killing you to not be in the playroom."

"Stop talking," I snap.

"You can't go from a four-times-a-day kind of man to—" I swoop down, gripping her neck and lifting her to her feet. Her eyes sparkle, and she smirks. "There he is," she whispers. "My Master."

I shove her away in disgust, and she falls back onto the couch. "Every single time I let my guard down, you're there like a desperate bitch in heat," I spit. "I can't make it any clearer, Vivian. I literally walked in here to find my father practically draped over you."

"Jealous?" she quips.

"Jesus, no. I actually felt a second of relief hoping you'd moved on. I love Victoria, and there is no way on this earth I'll ever be with anyone but her, so back off."

I storm out, ignoring my father as he spins to see what the commotion is. I get into the car, taking Marshall by surprise. "Kat's," I bark, and he starts the engine.

When we arrive, I get out the car before Marshall can open my door. "You can get off for a few hours," I tell him.

Nik looks up from my office chair when I stalk in. He jumps up, slamming his laptop shut and tucking it under his arm. "Everything okay?" he asks.

"Should it not be?"

"You just seem . . . distracted."

"So everyone keeps telling me," I mutter. "But in case anyone hasn't noticed, Victoria is locked up in some mental institution and I can't reach her." The office door swings open and Phoebe marches in. I groan. "Great."

"I've just spoken to Marshall," she snaps. Nik steps in front of her, blocking her path to me, and she shoves at him. "Get the hell out my way."

"It's fine, Nik," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. Today can't get much worse. "Leave us."

He reluctantly steps from the office, and I point to the seat in front of my desk. "Where is she?" Phoebe demands.

"Good question," I say.

"What does that mean?"

"Did Marshall tell you everything?"

"I don't know, Dmitry, why don't you tell me what you know, and I'll piece it together," she hisses, sitting down and folding her arms over her chest.

"She isn't well."

Phoebe frowns. "In what way?"

"Mentally."

"What makes you say that?"

"She's been erratic. Her behaviour has been . . . out of control."

"That's just Tori."

"She ripped up my suits and dressed in the cut-offs. She turned up to my business meeting like that, looking deranged."

Phoebe almost smiles. "What did you do to deserve that?"

"Does it matter? It's not normal behaviour."

"Yes, it matters, Dmitry. Tori is," she pauses to think and then smiles, "loud and outgoing. She wants the attention and doesn't care how she gets it. But she isn't crazy. Surely, you got a hint of her personality when she dragged her heel along your car?"

I smirk. "Yes, but this is different, Phoebe. I'm scared for her."

Her smile fades. "I need to see her," she announces. "I'll tell you if she's lost the plot."

"She's getting the best care," I say with as much conviction as I can, because I'm not certain about any of it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Take me to her right now."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Did you know she self-harms regularly?"

She gasps, narrowing her eyes. "What?"

"There's things you don't know about her, Phoebe, and I hate to break her confidentiality, but she's in hospital because she cut herself so deep, she almost . . . well, let's just say she had us all scared."

She takes a minute to process my words. "Why didn't you call me?" Her tone is accusing, and it pisses me off.

"Because I had other things on my mind," I snap.

"Before," she yells, "when you first found out about it, or when you began to think she was unwell?"

"It wasn't my place. She didn't want anyone to know."

"I could have spoken to Marcus. We could have helped her."

I roll my eyes at the mention of Victoria's brother. "He already knew."

Her mouth falls open. "What?"

"Jesus, Phoebe, stop being so blind. Half the reason Victoria is the way she is, is because of him." I pull my drawer open and pull out the file I have on Marcus. I slide it over to her. "He isn't the man you think he is. Take it and do some catching up."

Tori

The door opens and I push to sit. I've been upgraded to a thin mattress on the floor, but my hands are still cuffed along with my ankles. Vivian stomps inside and screams. I stare wide-eyed at her erratic behaviour. Over the last few days, I've started to see I was never the mad one—it's always been her.

I watch warily as she begins to pace, her expensive heels clicking on the concrete floor. "It doesn't matter what I do, he can't get his mind from you," she yells, adding another frustrated scream. I'd laugh if I wasn't at the level where she could kick me. I get up onto my knees. "It's always about you, and I am so fucking sick of it," she continues to yell.

I stand, struggling to get my balance. I'm so hungry that my stomach growls in protest. "What did you think would happen, Vivian? That he'd confide in you, let you get close so he'd realise how great you are?"

"Out of sight, out of mind," she hisses.

"Clearly not because it's been what . . . three days?" I have no idea how long I've been down here, but I think I've counted four or five dark nights.

"Six days," she yells, stamping her foot. "And all he cares about is seeing you."

"Yah know, you can let me go. Dmitry and I are over anyway."

She stops pacing and stares at me. "I'm here because of him, and quite honestly, I'm done." The words hurt me as I spit them, but it's true. Since we met, it's been nothing but chaos, and he's spent months with this bitch in his ear, believing I'm the one losing my mind. In fact, he believed everyone but me and allowed them to cart me off to a hospital without even checking, despite my warnings. Being alone with my thoughts has clarified everything. We're done. I have his baby to think about now.

"You can't stay away from each other," she accuses. "And he'll never let you walk away with his child."

"He doesn't know," I tell her. "You could just let me go, Vivian. I'll go far away, and he'll never find me. You can pick up the pieces, and I'll be free." She looks pensive, like she's considering my words, and hope builds in my chest. Of course, if she frees me, I'll be marching right into the manor to tell Dmitry exactly where I've spent the last few nights and who put me here.

The door opens and Nik saunters in. My eyes widen. I knew he hated me, but seriously, he's in on this too?

"What the fuck?" I spit.

He grins. "How's your stay?"

"Cold, damp, and you'll be lucky to get a one-star on Tripadvisor," I snap.

"Where's Vladimir?" asks Vivian.

Nik shrugs. "I'm not his keeper."

"I don't understand why we're keeping her alive," she snaps. "Why can't he just make a decision?"

Nik sits on the chair I was tied to. "He will."

"The longer she's alive, the more risk there is of Dmitry finding her."

I calm my breathing to stop the panic. Knowing Nik is involved has narrowed my chances of Marshall ever finding me. My blood runs cold. What if Marshall is involved? I frown, dropping to my knees again. He talked me into coming here quietly. The urge to vomit is strong, and I lean forward, resting my hands on the cool floor.

Maybe everything he's done so far was to make me trust him. I begin to spiral, the reality of everything that's happening hitting me hard.

"Yah know, we could just do it," Nik suggests, and I glance frantically between the pair as they stare at one another.

"Vladimir will lose his mind if we go against him," she replies.

"It'll be too late by then. You said yourself, the longer we keep her alive, the more chance Dmitry has of finding out the truth."

"I don't know," she murmurs.

"Look, this was always the plan, no? She should've been dead and buried by now. What else can he do with her now that she knows the truth?"

"We should speak to him, make him see sense."

I hold my breath when Vladimir enters. He stops in his tracks, his eyes running over the pair before landing on me. "What?" he asks.

"Can we talk?" Vivian asks, pointing to the doorway.

They all step out, and I release the breath, feeling the panic take over. Fuck. I'm running out of time, and Nik is right—Vladimir won't keep me alive and risk me telling Dmitry everything.

Vladimir yells in Russian, and a second later, he comes back into the room alone. He sits on the chair and stares at me. After an uncomfortable minute, I cross my legs and sigh. "So, are you here to pull the trigger, or do you pay someone for that?"

"It's all gotten way out of hand," he admits. "But now, I have no other choice."

"There's always a choice."

"If you'd have just stayed away," he says sadly. "He was on the right path. Things were going well."

"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.