Chapter 6

Tori

L ooking at my watch for about the hundredth time within the last ten minutes, I wonder why the hell I ever agreed to see a counsellor.

I went to bed early last night, but I tossed and turned throughout most of it, not wanting the nightmares to plague me. The constant worry about sitting down with a counsellor who's on the books for one of the most dangerous men in the city weighed heavily.

I get up from the sofa again and make my way across to the window, watching for her arrival. My throat is dry and tight with anxiety, and the need to vomit is overwhelming, even though I couldn't eat breakfast this morning.

Biting my nails, I make my way back across the lounge, back to the sofa. I'm sure my pacing over the last half-hour is wearing away the flooring beneath me.

Dmitry appears in the doorway offering me a weak smile, and there's a look of pity in his eyes which just enrages me as I flop down on the sofa.

"This is a bad idea," I sigh out to no one in particular.

Dmitry closes the gap between us and kneels in front of me. He reaches his hand out and gently strokes the side of my face, that same look still plaguing his eyes.

"Don't pity me," I spit. I know I'm taking out this nervous energy on him, but right now, all rational thinking has left. "I don't need your damn sympathy." Bunching his shirt up in my fist, I pull him closer. "But I know what I do need, Sir," I whisper and lean in, loosening my grip and running my hands down his chest, then down to his crotch. He hisses, and I almost think I've got him right where I want him when he stands abruptly.

"As much as I want to be buried deep inside you, my krasota ," he runs his hands over his chin, almost as if fighting the beast within, "this is more important."

There's a knock at the door, pulling his attention away from me, and I take a nervous breath, rising to my feet to follow him.

Dmitry pulls open the door, and I eye the woman suspiciously. She's a petite brunette, wearing the most impeccable fitted trouser suit. Her hair is bunched up in a messy bun with a few loose curls framing her face.

Dmitry stretches his hand out for her to shake and begins to introduce himself.

"I know who you are, Mr. Volkov," she interrupts him, and he scowls. I can't help but smirk, loving the fact she's put him in his place. She's oozing power as she enters, passing him without so much as a glance.

I point in the direction of the living room, and she heads that way. I press my lips together to stop the laugh that's trying to escape me. Dmitry is completely shocked, and his expression shows as much. "I already like her. She can stay," I whisper, following after her.

"You must be Victoria." She walks towards me and offers her manicured hand, and I take it. "I'm Mrs. Steele, but you can call me Harriet."

We shake, and her expression seems more friendly now, helping me to relax. "It's Tori," I tell her as I close the doors, giving Dmitry a quick wink.

Harriet takes a seat on one of the sofas, reaching into her bag and taking out a notepad and pen. I sit opposite her, watching as she places the pen between her lips before reaching back in her bag and pulling out a tape recorder.

I frown. Surely, Dmitry hasn't agreed for these sessions to be recorded. My eyes flick to the camera in the corner of the room. Although I'm sure he'll have his own copy . "We aren't recording these sessions," I say firmly. I fidget with my fingers nervously, swallowing hard as the gravity of the whole situation catches up with me.

She gives a nod, placing the tape recorder back into her bag without so much as another word. She clasps her hands together, resting them on the notepad. "I can't say this process is going to be easy, and I certainly can't say things won't get worse before they get better but know that I will help you every step of the way." She smiles, and I give a weak nod, my eyes already beginning to fill with unshed tears. "Where would you like to start?"

I scoff. Is she for real? "Well, given that you're the professional ," I use air quotes to emphasise the word, "surely, you're the most qualified to decide that."

She doesn't seem phased by my attitude. "I work very differently, Tori. My sessions are all client-led." She pauses, pulling her hands apart and picking up her pen. "That means the pace of our sessions is dictated solely by you." I relax a little, appreciating that I can decide how much to say. "So, for our first session, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

The lounge door opens and Dmitry strolls in with two bottles of water. He places them on the table and eyes me as if he's searching into my soul, checking I'm okay. I know if I was to give him the nod now, he'd let me out of this whole situation. But he's right—I can't go on as I am.

"Mr. Volkov," Harriet's voice is laced with annoyance, "this will not work if you barge in here. You'll only be wasting your money and my patience."

I feel the corners of my lips lifting into a grin. I definitely like this woman . It makes a nice change from women falling at his feet as soon as he flashes his grin.

Dmitry raises his hands in defeat and smiles at me. I'm pretty sure it's on the tip of his tongue to ask if she knows who the fuck he is, but instead, he turns his smile to her and says, "Of course, Mrs. Steele. Please accept my apologies. I just thought you might need a drink." He leaves, closing the door with a little more force than necessary.

I throw back my head and laugh. When I manage to calm myself, I see she's looking at me like I'm crazy. "Sorry, it's just that not many people get away with talking to Dmitry in that way."

She smirks. "Well, Tori, I don't change who I am for anyone. I'm here to do a job." She opens the notepad. "Now, where were we?"

Rubbing my hands over my tired face, I stand to show Harriet out. She shakes my hand. "It was lovely to meet you, Tori. I'll see you later in the week for our next session."

All I can manage is a nod. The session has me reeling internally, and I feel exhausted even though we haven't reached anything of major significance.

I open the front door and the bright sunshine instantly heats my face, comforting me. Harriet is already halfway down the steps. "Harriet," I say, and she glances back, "thank you."

She offers a friendly smile. "You're welcome. Get some rest."

When I turn, I bump straight into Dmitry's hard chest and immediately melt into his touch. He wraps his strong arms around me, making me feel safe, and I inhale his familiar scent. "Are you okay, my krasota ?" I hum in response, not trusting myself to speak in case I burst into tears. He's seen enough of my erratic behaviour over the last few weeks.

He places a gentle kiss on my head and the simple touch makes my heart leap. This man really does care, and it's clear he'd do anything for me. I tip my head back to look at him, noting he looks relaxed and at ease. "Do you mind if I go to Phoebe's?" I ask. His expression changes to one of concern, but before he can object, I add, "I just need some female company. . . to clear my head."

The concern ebbs away, and he places a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Of course. Nik will take you." I push up on my tiptoes and place a soft kiss on his lips as his hand brushes my backside. "Go, before I change my mind and tie you to the bed so you can't leave."

I grin. "Promises, promises, Dmitry."

When I arrive, I find Phoebe lying on her sofa, wrapped in a blanket, with a tub of ice cream resting on her knee. I slump down on the sofa next to her with a sigh and tug some of the blanket over myself. I prise the spoon out of her clutches. "Oi, this is my pity party," she whines, and I laugh as I plunge the spoon into gooey goodness and then into my mouth, allowing the ice cream to melt on my tongue before swallowing.

"I remember a time when you took mine away completely and told me to get my shit together."

She cocks her eyebrow and smirks. "I don't believe you."

"Anyway, I'm joining your pity party today."

"Trouble in paradise?"

I groan, placing the spoon back in the tub. "Not so much trouble, but Dmitry's got me seeing a counsellor."

She turns to face me, tucking her legs under her. "Right," she says, and I huff out, bracing myself for the motherly bashing from my best friend. "You want the truth?" she asks.

I know, no matter what the answer, she'll give it to me anyway. "Do I get a choice?"

She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm. "You've been spiralling for some time. Your erratic behaviour is seriously going to get you in trouble." She pauses, waiting to see my reaction, and when I don't get defensive, she continues. "You've been pushing the boundaries for some time now. I've been concerned about you." She looks sad, and I instantly feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, Phoebe. I don't mean to, but you know it's a coping mechanism. I like to pretend I have my shit together and then it all overflows."

She offers me a weak smile. "So, counselling can't hurt, right?"

I know she's right. "Well, at least she managed to put Dmitry in his place," I say to lighten the mood. She laughs, and I realise I haven't heard her laugh for some time. It's a welcome relief. "She literally handed the bloke his balls." We both cackle at the thought of any woman handing Dmitry his balls.

Her smile fades as she dips the spoon in and out the ice cream. She sighs heavily. "Just open up to her, Tori. What have you got to lose?" She's right. She's always right.

The rest of the afternoon is spent watching reruns of sitcoms, eating ice cream, and catching up on gossip. It's been such a long time since we did this.

I glance at my watch. "I need to go, Phoebe, but I'll check back on you soon." She nods, not taking her eyes from the television. "Oh, and Phoebe, take a fucking shower."

She laughs at me, sniffing herself. "I don't smell that bad."

"No, just like something died," I tease.

As I reach the door, she calls my name. "Tori, a letter came for you the other day. I left it by the door."

I flick through the pile of letters on her side, grabbing the one addressed to me. "Thanks," I shout, leaving.

Nik opens the back door of the car the second he spots me leaving the building. I slide in, wondering why the hell he never speaks. He's so fucking rude.

I turn the letter in my hand, noticing the address label is printed and it's arrived by post. I frown, wondering why someone would send it to Phoebe's. I rip it open and unfold the letter, my frown deepening at the small poem printed in the centre of the paper. Fear grips me as I stare at the words. My throat feels tight, and for a second, I forget to breathe.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Marcus is pig feed,

All thanks to you.

The tears I'd battled to keep at bay all day begin to flow freely, dripping from my cheeks onto the paper.

Dmitry

"Has my father left London yet?" I ask Leo.

My Sovietnik shakes his head. "We've had men tailing but nothing. He's lying pretty low."

"I don't understand why he's still hanging around London." I tap my fingers on the desk in frustration. He's overstayed his welcome and it's putting me on edge. "We need to anticipate his next move."

There's a loud bang outside my office, and I instantly grab my gun from the drawer and approach the door. It swings open, knocking into the wall behind it. Victoria's eyes land on me and she throws herself into my arms. Her eyes are red and puffy as she sobs uncontrollably. I stroke her back as her tears soak through my shirt, and I guide her over to my desk.

Nik's large frame stands in the doorway, and I frown at him. "What the fuck is going on, Nik?"

"Sorry, Boss." He approaches me cautiously, placing a folded piece of paper on the desk. "Another note, this one addressed to Victoria."

Lifting the paper off the desk with Victoria still wrapped around me, clinging for dear life, I stare at the note. "Fuck, where did this come from?" I bark, and Victoria flinches.

"I don't know, Boss."

I sit back down, pulling Victoria with me. "Calm down, my krasota ," I whisper, lifting her head so she meets my eyes. I wipe her tears away with my thumb. "Tell me everything."

She squares her shoulders and takes a steadying breath like she always does when she's battling with herself. "It was posted to Phoebe's flat. She gave it to me on my way out." She pauses, rubbing her chest. "Dmitry . . . someone knows. I'm going to prison." She cries out the last bit, and my men exchange a smirk.

"Stop fucking smiling. Do you know what this means?" I yell while trying to soothe Victoria by running my hand up and down her thigh. "One of my own men is behind this . . . some fucker I trust with my life is trying to fuck me over." Both men fidget uncomfortably. "This does not leave this fucking room, do I make myself clear? And do some digging. I want the mole found." They both leave without a word. "It will all be okay," I whisper to Victoria.

She looks down, chewing on her lip. "Dmitry," my name barely even audible, "I . . . erm . . ." She runs her hands over her face and swallows hard. I wait patiently for her next words, even though I'm certain I know what she craves. "Please, Sir."

"Stand," I command, releasing her. She rises to her feet, her eyes downcast, ready to play.

"Yes, Sir," she whispers.

I grab her hand and pull her behind me, heading for the dungeon. Right now, she needs me. She needs this .

"Strip," I order once we're inside, and she does so without any complaint. No smartarse comeback. No resistance. She knows what she craves, and I'll give it willingly if she plays by my rules.

She eyes my belt, licking her lips as I remove it slowly, and I arch my brow. "Do you want to feel my belt across your bare backside, my krasota ?" She nods. "Words!"

"Yes, Sir," she says breathlessly.

"Do you remember your safe word, Vict?—"

"Distraction," she says eagerly, cutting me off, and I smirk at her desperation.

Pushing her down on the bed, I bend her over the edge so her arse is in the air. I run my hand over her backside, and she pushes back, letting me know she's waiting for me to begin.

I slap her left cheek with my hand, but she doesn't even release a murmur. Taking the belt, I step back slightly before I bring it down on her arse. The welt shows immediately, bringing me a sense of calm. The first strike is hard enough to jolt her forward, but she wastes no time repositioning herself and bracing for the next strike.

I give her another, the sound bouncing around the room as it connects with her skin. This time, she groans in satisfaction, so I repeat it in the exact same spot, shuddering when I see the little pebbles of blood rising to the surface.

I grab her hair roughly at the base of her skull to draw her body up against mine. I press my cheek to hers, and she smiles in satisfaction. "Are you wet for me, my krasota ?" She nods, pulling forward slightly so my grip on her hair tightens. I yank her back to where I want her. "Words, Victoria. Is your cunt dripping wet for me?"

"Yes, Sir." I release my hold on her hair, and she moans at the loss of contact.

Using the belt, I make quick work of restraining her hands to the ring that's hanging from the top beam of the four-poster bed. I pull it tight enough so she's stretched up on her tiptoes.

Leaning closer, I bite down on her nipple. It pebbles between my teeth, and she sighs, letting her head fall back.

I guide my hand between her thighs. She's fucking soaking . I run my fingers through her folds and insert a finger into her tight pussy. She bucks against my hand, trying to gain more friction. She whimpers with each grind on my hand.

I take a step back, and her eyes shoot open at the loss of contact. She pulls on the restraints. "You look fucking perfect like this, on display for me."

I drop down onto my knees and grab both her legs, guiding them over my shoulders so they're wrapped around my neck. She pushes her pussy forward, eagerly directing me. "Patience, my krasota ." I smile up at her before blowing gently on her glistening cunt.

"Please, Dmitry," she begs as she lifts herself again. She smells fucking divine. I nip at her clit and trace my tongue through her folds before pushing it into her pussy. I feel her clench as she throws her head back, pushing her hips closer to my face, her legs clamping my head.

I suck on her clit as her legs begin to shake and her juices coat my chin. I continue to fuck her with my mouth while she rides out her orgasm.

"I need to be inside you, my krasota ," I murmur against her. I slide up her body, releasing the belt from the loop. Her arms flop down, falling around my neck. I kiss her, parting her lips with my tongue, and she hums her approval at the taste of herself.

My cock is solid, and the only thing it craves right now is to be buried inside Victoria. I lift her in my arms and line myself at her entrance, lowering her down onto me and impaling her. She's so fucking wet right now as she glides effortlessly over my shaft, her walls already choking me.

I continue to lift her at a punishing pace as she buries her face into my neck. Her legs begin to shake as she comes a second time. I thrust deeper, and her cunt squeezes me as I grunt out my own release.