Chapter 8

TORI

I t felt good to be in control, to have some power over one of the most powerful men in both Russia and London. I needed that. And I’m more than aware that I’m in danger, but being in Dmitry’s presence makes me feel safe, even if right now he looks certifiably pissed-off.

I watch a range of emotions passing over his face as I nervously run my hands over my silk gown, noting that my palms feel clammy from being so close to him.

Phoebe was right—I don’t think I can just let him go, not that I’ll admit that to him right now.

“Say what you have to say, Dmitry. I’m not made of glass, so I won’t fucking break,” I snap, irritated that he’s holding back and trying to find the right words.

He takes a step forward. He’s so close that I can smell his cologne, reminding me of happier times. Times when no one else was involved and it was just us. Everything got too fucking messy .

He reaches his hand out to touch my face, but I take a step away, my back hitting the wall. “Tori,” he pleads, the vulnerability in his voice making me feel guilty. His hand drops to his side. “The pain I feel right now is nothing I’ve ever felt before. Having you, the woman I love, so close, and yet you can’t even stand the sight of me. It pains me to not know about your life, to not be the one to wake up beside you, to chase away the nightmares. To hold you and my child in my arms as your body changes.”

My gaze drops away from him. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, so pained, and that guilt slowly eats away at me. He takes a step closer, backing me farther against the wall, and places his finger under my chin, lifting my gaze back to his own.

“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes searching, and I swallow hard to prevent the tears from falling. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen Vivian?” he asks, placing his hand against the wall above my head, caging me in.

I clear my throat. “Because, Dmitry, we aren’t together. You aren’t privy to anything I do in my time?—”

His hand slams against the wall, but I don’t flinch. “You’re carrying my fucking child,” he snaps. “Both of your safety is on me.”

I push against his chest, making some room between us. “It’s a shame that shit didn’t concern you a few weeks ago when that witch and your fucking father had me tied-up.”

I step out of his cocoon, but he grabs my arm. I stare at it and arch a brow, and he drops it instantly. “How many times do I have to fucking apologise? I thought I was doing right by you.”

“Well, Dmitry, in case you didn’t get the memo, you royally fucked up. This can’t be fixed by simple words. If you want me in your life, you’re going to have to fucking work for it. And I take great satisfaction in telling you that I won’t make it easy,” I state calmly before storming away and heading back over to Marshall and Phoebe at the bar.

I smirk at myself as I walk away, feeling a buzz of satisfaction. Of course, I love him. I’m crazy to deny that I’m not when my every waking moment is consumed by him. Can we make this work? I have no idea, but should I just give up on him when I’m carrying his child? My family didn’t love me, and although I know Dmitry doesn’t get things right, the one thing he does is love with his all. This child will be cherished and adored, and that’s something I never had.

I place my hand over the slight swell of my stomach as I reach the table.

“Everything okay?” Phoebe asks, nodding in Dmitry’s direction as he stands exactly where I left him, looking like a little lost puppy.

“Yep. All good. Are we dancing?”

Phoebe looks to Marshall, who nods, giving her the all-clear, and I roll my eyes in irritation. She places her arm through mine as we walk to the dancefloor. “Really? We need permission to dance?”

She shrugs. “Well, we are in a roomful of monsters.”

“Your idea,” I remind her.

“One of my best, I reckon. It’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely relaxed since you came home.”

“And you?” I laugh, nodding in Marshall’s direction. “Why the sudden need to be a rebel? Doesn’t happen to have anything to do with that broad security detail, does it?”

She blushes instantly, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I like getting a rise from him.”

I throw my head back and laugh, remembering how Dmitry and I came to be about. I loved nothing more than pushing his buttons, getting him to notice me.

Another one of my crazy ideas forms in my head.

“Oh fuck,” Pheobe chuckles. “She’s back. I’ve seen that look before, and it usually ends up with all sorts of crazy.”

“Dmitry needs to know how it feels to be on the other end of crazy, right? To feel like you’re completely losing the plot, to feel that jealous rage I got when Vivian was hanging off him like a cling-on?”

She smirks. “Go teach the fucker a lesson, Tori.”

I feel a rush of excitement course through me. It’s not like Phoebe to get behind my crazy plans, and for once, it feels like we are on the same page.

I turn and head back towards the bar, but as I pass Marshall, he stops me. “Where are you going?”

I roll my eyes. “Marshall, you’ve got half of London’s security detail on me, can I not even go to the fucking bar?”

He eyes the crowded bar. “Stay where I can see you,” he utters in irritation.

I give him a salute as if he’s my sergeant. “Yes, sir.”

He shakes his head at me in annoyance as I continue to make my way to the bar.

The barman is serving other customers, so I wait patiently, allowing my eyes to roam my surroundings until they land on Dmitry. He’s standing close by with some businessmen. They’re talking, but he isn’t really paying attention as he catches my eye. There’s a whiskey in his hand, but it doesn’t look as if a single sip has been taken.

The barman comes over, and I smile wide, leaning over the bar so he can hear me while also making sure he gets an eyeful of my chest. “Just a bottle of water, please.”

“Of course,” he replies, returning my smile. He makes his way to the fridge and produces a bottle. “Glass?” he asks, and I nod. I lick my lips seductively and watch as his eyes fall there. He places the glass on the bar in front of me and pours the water, not taking his gaze from me. He moves the glass closer, and my hand brushes against his as I take it. I let out a flirtatious giggle, and his eyes light up in delight.

“You are stunning,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I almost whisper as I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip. A tendril of hair falls into my face, and he reaches over, placing the loose curl behind my ear. I smile shyly. “What time do you finish?”

He’s about to reply when a hand reaches over me, grabbing his wrist and bending it backwards.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Dmitry’s voice breaks the mood, and I sigh, glancing to my left to see his angry face. The barman stutters, too stunned to be able to form a proper sentence. Dmitry pushes back on his wrist sharply and a sickening snapping sound fills the air. The man screams in pain, and the room around us falls silent. “Touch her again and I’ll snap more than your fucking wrist,” he warns, pushing the man away from him. “Nobody touches what’s mine,”

I place my hand on Dmitry’s shoulder gently, and he turns to me. His eyes burn with rage, and his jaw ticks in anger. “What’s yours?” I repeat, adding a cold laugh. I lean closer to his ear. “I’m not yours, Dmitry.”

A low growl emits from deep in his chest, and I grin, enjoying pushing his buttons, just like when we first met. “My krasota , do not test me. You can keep fooling yourself into thinking you don’t belong with me, but we both know deep down that you are mine and I am yours.” He’s so close, I can practically hear his heartbeat, but I’m not upset. In fact, his little show of dominance has had the opposite effect, so when he swoops down and throws me over his shoulder, I don’t bother to fight him.

He marches from the room with me dangling down his back like a ragdoll. The people around us are now silent, watching the show unfold, and when I lift my head, I spot Vivian and Vladimir watching us. I give them a little wave as the door closes. Welcome back, Tori, I mentally praise myself.

DMITRY

The barman is lucky it’s only his wrist that’s broken and he doesn’t have a bullet in his skull. Seeing that fucker reaching over and touching my krasota fuelled a jealous rage, and there’s only one way to tame the beast within me right now.

I didn’t care that everyone was watching, or that for once, it was me making a scene and not Victoria. When I threw her over my shoulder, she didn’t protest. That sent a small thrill coursing through me, a glimmer of hope that she wants this as much as I do.

I slam through the bathroom door, and it bangs into the plaster behind it with such force, I’m certain it’s cracked. I slide her down my body, every simple touch sending me into overload. My cock strains against my trousers.

“What do you want, Dmitry?” she asks, challenging me with that glint in her eye, the one she gets when she’s testing me.

Her eyes flick to my lips, and I love that even though she’s trying to hold her composure, I’m having an effect on her. I push her up against the door, my hand resting around her throat.

“Don’t ever let another man touch what belongs to me,” I warn, tightening my grip. “This,” I push my other hand between her legs roughly, and she inhales sharply, “belongs to me.”

She shoves my hand away, but her eyes are full of heat as she lifts herself onto the sink unit. I watch as she slides her dress up, refusing to break eye contact as she slips her hand into her underwear. Her head drops back, and she moans in pleasure before pulling her hand free and sucking her finger into her mouth. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Volkov, that this belongs to me.”

“And this?” I ask, opening the buckle on my belt.

She eyes the bulge in my trousers and cocks her eyebrow before wrapping her leg around me and tugging me closer. Her fingers bat my own away, and she makes quick work of pulling my belt open, followed by my button and zipper.

She releases my erection, wrapping her hand around me and slowly tugging. I rest my forehead against hers, watching the way she expertly touches me. “Jealousy’s a real bitch, isn’t it?” she whispers, and I can’t help but think she’s satisfied with my response.

“You’re going to get some poor fucker killed,” I mutter.

A small moan slips from her lips, and I close my eyes, savouring the sound. She’s moving her hand faster, and if I don’t stop, I’m going to come over her dress like a fucking schoolboy. I run my hands up her thighs, hooking my fingers into her thong and tugging it down her legs. I crouch before her and lift her leg up over my shoulder, inhaling her scent.

I press my tongue to her clit and circle it rhythmically until her thighs shudder against my head, tightening as she climbs higher. I push my finger into her, letting her wetness soak my hand as she comes apart, crying out with pleasure.

I glide up her body and kiss her as if my life depends on it, because in all honesty, right now, it does. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine again.

She sucks on my tongue, tasting herself as her hands push my trousers down to my thighs. Then she circles them around my neck, and I lift her against me, forcing my cock into her. She bites down on my shoulder, wincing as I fill her. I feel her tightening around my cock with each thrust, and then she comes again, and I follow with my own release, pumping every last ounce of me into her.

“I told you . . . mine,” I whisper against the nape of her neck.

I place her back on her feet before crouching before her again, this time to put her thong back in place. I lower her dress and straighten it before standing. She walks over to the counter to look in the mirror as she runs her fingers through her hair.

I approach her from behind and place my arms around her waist, resting my hands on her stomach and admiring the ‘just fucked’ look on her face. She watches my reflection through the mirror then turns to face me. “Mr. Volkov, you’ll have to work a lot harder than a fuck in a public bathroom to win me back.” She reaches up on her tiptoes and places a quick kiss on my lips before heading for the door. She pauses with her hand on the knob. “Dmitry,” she whispers, looking back over her shoulder, “I do love you.” And with that simple declaration, she leaves the bathroom.

I feel like I’ve got whiplash, but at least it’s progress from our last encounter.

Leaving the toilet, I spot Marshall resting against the wall opposite. “Shouldn’t you be watching her?” I ask, straightening my tie.

“There’s a man on her, boss. Several, actually.”

“Like when she went for her interview today? Who was watching her then?” At least he has the audacity to look guilty. “I had to find out from Vivian of all fucking people.”

“She gave me the slip, boss, when I couldn’t find parking. As soon as I parked the car, I waited for her in the building,” he answers, and I shake my head in annoyance. That fucking woman is going to give me heart failure. “And she didn’t tell me about Vivian until way after.”

“Don’t let it happen again, Marshall. I can’t fucking lose her,” I mutter as I run my hands through my hair. When did I get so fucking soft? If I’m too harsh on Marshall again, she’ll never forgive me.

“Yes, boss,” he says, falling into step beside me as we head back into the main room. “Everything okay?”

“Fuck, Marshall, I have no idea. One minute, I’m riding on cloud nine, and the next, she’s got me by the balls.” Marshall laughs, and I frown. “Something funny?”

“Come on, boss. When has she ever made anything easy for you? You just gotta ride this out.”

And I know he’s right. This man has never failed me, and in recent weeks, he’s become one of the only men I can trust with her. I pat him on the shoulder. “You’re right. She’s mine, and if it means I have to take out the whole fucking family for her to be safe, then so be it.”

I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I would give up everything to see her happy. I would do anything she asked to make up for all my errors and bad judgement.

We are meant for each other.