Chapter 8

Dmitry

S tepping out the Range Rover fastening my suit jacket, I give Nik a nod and make my way into the restaurant. My father sits with his back to me. Vivian's smile beams as I approach the table and she rises to her feet, leaning in for me to peck her on the cheek in greeting.

"Oh, Dmitry, it's lovely to see you again," she gushes, making my skin crawl. I can think of better ways to spend my evening, ways which include Victoria's mouth sucking me dry. I smirk at the thought before pulling the chair back out for Vivian to take a seat. My father glares at me over his wine glass, choosing not to verbally acknowledge my arrival. I take a seat opposite him, giving him the same stoic stare he's throwing my way.

"I would appreciate if we could make this quick. I have places to be," I tell them.

My father arches his brow. "Are we keeping you from your dirty little hooker?" His voice drips in sarcasm.

Vivian reaches over the table, resting her hand on my father's arm. "Now, now, Vladimir. He can't help the psychotic princess has her claws in him." She laughs, cold and calculated.

I slam my hands on the table, grabbing the attention of the nearby tables. "Enough. I will not have you disrespect my fiancée." I hiss, my jaw ticking in frustration. "Either of you."

Vivian throws her head back, her curls bobbing as she laughs. "Please, Dmitry, we all know you'll be bored of her soon. She's clearly losing it and doesn't have a grasp on reality. You'll tire of her moods." She lifts her wine to her lips, a callous smirk evident behind the rim of the glass. "She's proved that recently with her erratic behaviour." Vivian is pushing my buttons, and she fucking knows it.

My father clears his throat, bringing my steely stare away from Vivian. "Vivian isn't wrong, moy syn . The woman's got a death wish if she thinks she can play with me. She isn't going to last in this world, and deep down, you know it. She's deranged."

I ball my fists, restraining myself from punching the arsehole in the face for being so fucking disrespectful about my wife-to-be, but I bite my anger back. They want me to lose my shit, and I won't give them the satisfaction. "I did not come here to talk about Victoria. This is a business meeting, is it not? I will not sit by and have you disrespect her in my presence. So, if you have nothing else to say . . ." I stand, the chair scraping along the floor, and I hold my father's gaze.

Vivian grabs hold of my arm, and I look at where she touches with complete disdain. "Hands," I bark, and she instinctively removes them.

"Dmitry," she whispers softly, but it does nothing to calm the raging monster inside me right now. "Please, sit down. We're just trying to look out for you." She leans over the table, grabbing the bottle of wine and filling my glass. "Sit, let's talk business."

I sigh, lowering back into my seat. My father summons the waiter over. "Another bottle of wine," he orders.

"Whiskey for me," I interrupt. If I'm going to tolerate this pair for the next hour or so, I'm going to need something stronger than wine. The waiter nods and leaves.

"Okay, let's talk business." Vivian's the first to break the silence. "So, as we said before, Dmitry, I have brought your father on board for the businesses. I've never had to take care of these things before, and I believe it would be an asset to have you on board too. You already own fifty percent of V's Wine Bar, but your father and I decided we would like to bring you in on everything." I look between the two in confusion. What's their fucking game? My father watches me with interest, like he senses my distrust.

The waiter arrives with our drinks, placing them on the table. I take a swig of the burning liquor, allowing it to settle my unease. This constant battle for power between us is exhausting.

"It makes logical sense, moy syn . Vivian has no experience in business, and her mother shows no desire to take over. I will be required to be in Russia, so bringing you on board will mean that business is well taken care of."

This isn't something I want, working with these two on a permanent basis. I know it is going to cause all sorts of problems. All I ever needed was Ronnie's underground shit, which I now have, but if I don't agree, it gives my father a chance to take over without me, and I'll be damned if I let him take everything I've worked hard for.

"Before I make any decision, we need to talk money." I have every intention of delaying my decision while I weigh up the options. I also need to consider Victoria. She will need to accept that I will be spending more time in Vivian's company, and I already foresee that being a huge problem.

"We think a three-way split is reasonable, a fair price. Wouldn't you agree?" my father asks. He knows what he's doing and that he's got me by the balls. How can I refuse such a good deal when it's being offered on a plate? But his ulterior motive is to have a hold over me, and I'm not blind to that fact. He sees me slipping away and can't stand it.

"I need to discuss it with my advisor," I declare, draining my whiskey and placing my glass back on the table. "I like to run these things past him, I'm sure you would appreciate that."

"Of course, Dmitry." My father grins, knowing he's already got me.

The evening is going by without too much incident, even though the tension in the atmosphere is palpable and none of us actually want to be here. Perhaps apart from Vivian, who constantly smiles my way flirtatiously.

My phone buzzes in my chest pocket and I pull it out, glancing at Victoria's name dancing across my screen. Cancelling the call, I place it back in my pocket. If I answer while in Vivian's company, I know she will take great delight in letting her presence be known.

"What's wrong, Dmitry? Trouble with your companion?" Vivian snipes, her venom knowing no bounds. "Maybe you need a real woman?" I sigh at her feeble attempt to flirt with me. What she doesn't realise is she has nothing on Victoria, who sparks something feral inside me, something I've never experienced before.

"Vivian, my shlyukha ," I lean in close, whispering in her ear, "you were just a filler. You just kept my bed warm until someone better came along." Vivian stares at me, her eyes full of fury and hurt. My lips curl at the corners, knowing I've hit a nerve. She rises from her seat, throwing her napkin on the table before stalking off to the restroom.

I feel my phone vibrate against my chest again and take it out for the second time, in case it's something which requires my urgent attention. It's Victoria again. This time, I place my phone face down on the table and let it ring out.

"You've upset Vivian again," my father murmurs. "You really should learn some respect for your business partners." I scoff at his attempt to protect Vivian, especially when he's the most unforgiving bastard I know.

"If you're that concerned, you fuck her. She's a wild ride, you'll appreciate her. She takes instruction like a pro." I lean over the table inches from his face and whisper, "Just remember, I taught her everything she fucking knows." His jaw twitches and his eyes widen.

"Do not disrespect, moy mal'chik . Remember who's in charge. Just because you're my son doesn't give you a free pass. Now, sit the fuck down, and you will apologise to Vivian when she returns."

I laugh and sit back in my seat, checking my phone as it rings again.

Tori

Staring down at the image on my phone, my blood boils as my anger takes over. Dmitry lied to me. The fucker told me he was meeting his father, yet here I sit with an image that proves he's with his fucking whore.

It shows him clearly leaning into Vivian and kissing her on the cheek. His hand is resting on the small of her back, and her eyes are alight with that all too familiar affection. It's the look she saves just for him.

I dial his number again, ready to give the bastard a piece of my mind, but it just rings out for the fourth time, which only pisses me off more.

How could I be so fucking stupid? I launch my phone across the room, just missing Marshall as he enters the room.

"For fuck's sake, Tori, what's got into you now?" he questions as he looks down to where my phone is now in pieces on the ground.

"As if you don't fucking know," I snap as I rise from the bed and grab a bag from the wardrobe. "You fucking goons all protect him. Heaven forbid any of you would think for yourselves." I pull open a drawer and riffle through, throwing clothes into a bag. Marshall approaches me, sitting beside my bag on the bed. "Fuck you all," I seethe. "How could I be so fucking stupid?" I scream the last sentence, more for my own benefit than anyone else's.

Marshall stares at me like I'm a raging lunatic, his brows furrowed. He goes to open his mouth, but I shut him down instantly. "Don't you fucking dare defend him."

He sighs. "Tori, calm down and tell me what the hell has got your knickers in a twist. I have no idea what's going on." He puts his hands out to placate me, as if I'm a wild animal that needs taming. I sigh, dropping to the floor, my eyes filling with unshed tears.

"He's seeing that stuck-up cow." I shudder as images assault my brain of what he could be doing with her right now. I blink away the tears, but they fall anyway, and I swipe them away quickly . He isn't worth my tears .

"Tori," I glance up to see him watching me cautiously, "he's at a business dinner, that's all." I can see in his eyes that he believes he's telling me the truth, but he can't deny the images I've seen.

"Hmm . . . looks that way." I frown at him, rubbing my hands over my tired face. "Someone just sent me a picture of him kissing Vivian. He told me he was with his father at a men-only meeting, but that picture looked like a cosy fucking dinner for two." I groan as a pain hits my chest, squeezing my heart. "I need to leave. I need to go. I can't do this dance anymore."

"I'm sure it's nothing. At least let him explain. Besides, you can't leave." I scoff, and he sighs again, this time heavier. "You know I can't let you leave."

"Fuck off, Marshall." I stand from the floor, returning to packing my bag. Marshall places his hands over the top of it, trying to prevent me stuffing anything else inside.

I scream in frustration. I'm spiralling, I know I am. I can feel the anger radiating through me, making me want to do something crazy, but I can't get Marshall into trouble again. He's only just started healing because of my last little escapade. I'd never forgive myself if I got him killed.

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. It's what Harriet advised. Suddenly, my eyes shoot open in realisation. "Could you at least drive me to Harriet's, please?" I ask, looking at the floor as more tears sting my eyes. My heart thumps heavy in my chest. I've never admitted I need help, but right now, I don't know what else to do.

Marshall stands, placing his hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "That sounds like the most rational decision you've made for some time." He laughs, and I join him, feeling some of the earlier tension ease.

Pacing the floor outside Harriet's office, I wait for her to finish with her client. Marshall eyes me wearily as he stands by the door, watching my every move. These fuckers all think I'm losing my mind, watching me like they're ready to catch me. Maybe I am losing it .

I crouch on the floor with my head in my hands, pulling on the roots of my hair so I can feel something, anything. I relish in that little bit of pain as I grip it tighter.

I stand abruptly, the urge to run kicking in. "Fuck this, let's go," I say, making my way towards Marshall just as Harriet's office door opens. I shake my head at Marshall, my eyes pleading. "Forget it, let's just go."

He places his hands on each shoulder, looking me dead in my eyes. "You came this far. This is the right move. Don't make me use my safe word." He grins and turns me around to face Harriet, who's watching me tentatively. She steps aside, opening the door wider. "Come in, Tori."

I glance back at Marshall, and he nods towards the door. I exhale loudly as I make my way into her office.

"Take a seat." She smiles at me, and I instantly relax. My mind is racing. Why the hell am I here? She can't change anything. He's fucking Vivian, and I should just leave. Start again. Away from him.

She pours me a glass of water from the jug, placing it in front of me on the small coffee table.

"Now, tell me what's got you so flustered that you had to book an urgent, last-minute appointment."

I take a deep breath, gaining some courage to explain my crazy. "He's still fucking her," I whisper, my voice breaking slightly with emotion.

"Who is?" She picks up her pen from the table, opening her notepad.

I stare at her, frowning. Really ? "Dmitry. Who do you think I mean, the fucking Pope?" My sarcasm knows no bounds right now. I pick up my glass and take a sip. "He's fucking Vivian."

She scribbles some words down on her notepad. "How do you know this?"

"Someone sent me a picture of them together. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to leave."

She nods, glancing up from her notes. "Well, you did the right thing, Tori. You've been running from something your entire life, but today, you've made the right choice." I slump in the plush chair, resting my head against the back and staring at the ceiling. "Where did you think he was this evening?"

"He told me he was meeting his father for a business dinner. Just men, apparently." I roll my eyes.

"Do you have the picture? Maybe we can dissect it together."

I give an unamused laugh. "No, I threw my phone across the room. It's in a hundred pieces."

"Tori," I pull my gaze down to hers and see she's frowning, "who sent the pictures?"

"How do I know? They didn't sign them with love."

"But they were there, on your phone?"

My jaw ticks. What's she trying to imply, that I'm making this up? "Of course."

"It's just that you saw your brother when he wasn't there, so I want you to be certain the picture was real. We talked before about destructive patterns and how sometimes our brains can conjure things to help us self-destruct."

I groan then go to stand. This was a bad idea. I should have gone with my gut and just ran. It would have been easier that way.

She puts her hand up to stop me. "It's just a question, Tori. You've been through so much, no one would blame you for falling into old patterns."

"Yes, I got the fucking picture," I snap.

She scribbles in her notepad. "What do you think the next step should be?" I shrug. "Stop running? Ask him outright to discover the truth for yourself?" she suggests.

I give a nod. Confronting Dmitry while staying calm will be hard. Running is the easiest option, but I have this need to prove to Harriet that I'm working on myself. And a small part of me wants to do this, to prove to myself I can.

On the way home, a plan forms in my mind. Dmitry asked me to be waiting for him naked, so I'll do as he's asked. But this time, I'll play a game to get to the truth. No shouting, no throwing shit.

I keep an eye out the bedroom window, and when I see his car coming to a stop outside, I take my place at the foot of the bed, lowering to my knees. I bow my head, knowing this is exactly what he craves—me in submissive mode.

He enters the bedroom a few minutes later, and I hear him exhale. A small smile plays on my lips as I remain in place. "Now, this is what I like to come home to." I hear the glee in his voice and then his footfalls as he stalks towards me. He places his thumb under my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, full of lust, but his answers will determine how this latest dance plays out.

I rise to my feet and smile at him seductively, licking my lips. "Did you have a nice meal, Sir?"

"Nothing compares to coming home to you, my krasota ," he says with a smile, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hum in approval at the taste of his warm whiskey breath. Tori, get a grip , I scold myself, now is not the time to give into temptation. "And your father? Was it nice to have some male bonding time?"

"Like everything with my father, it was a ball ache."

"I'm sure you missed female company."

He frowns slightly but then smiles. "Forget the small talk, my krasota ."

I pull away, placing my palms on his chest and pushing him back gently. "You're using the same lips to kiss me as you've had pressed against your little cum slut?" I step back from his grasp.

His brow furrows as my words penetrate his brain. "I was with my father, my krasota ," he soothes, reaching for me.

I shrug him off again. "Nuh-uh, don't lie to my face, Dmitry." I'm calm and collected, though deep inside, rage runs through every single fibre, desperately trying to break free. But I have this under control.

He moves quickly, grabbing my wrist, and I feel my pulse racing under his touch. Keep your composure, Tori . I inhale and straighten my shoulders. "No, you don't, Mr. Volkov. You don't get to manipulate me with your bullshit lies and gentle caresses. If it's Vivian you want, let me fucking leave, because you can't have us both," I spit as I snatch my arm out of his grasp.

He runs his hands through his hair, looking exasperated at my words. "Tori," he begins. He only uses my preferred name when he's trying to sweet talk me, but that's not going to work tonight. "I was at a business meeting with my father. Why would I lie?"

Before I know it, my hand rears back and slaps him across the face. Damn, I was doing so well.

"Fuck you, Dmitry, and your promises of forever." I push him back as hard as I can muster. "I told you before, I'm not a fucking damsel in distress, and you certainly aren't my knight in shining armour." I shove him towards the door. "It's okay for you to nearly murder a man for being in the same car as me while I fuck myself, but you can fuck who the hell you like? Get the fuck out. I don't want you and your wandering cock anywhere near me," I shout as he stumbles through the door and I slam it in his shocked face.

I slide down to the floor and notice my hands shaking. The enormity of what I've just done weighs heavily on me. So, I slapped him, my bad, but I didn't go completely mental. I feel like it's a win for my recovery, right?

Dmitry bangs his fist on the door, and I feel it vibrate against my back. "Victoria," he shouts as he connects with the door over and over, "open this fucking door."

"There's plenty of spare rooms in this house, Mr. Volkov. Go find one, because tonight, your company isn't required," I shout back, resting my head on my knees. "At least, not by me."

His banging stops and he sighs heavily, then I hear his footsteps walk away.