She’d been an idiot with stars in her eyes, feeding vital company information to a man who had so clearly never loved her that just thinking about it now made her cringe.
Yes, the wisdom that came with being a twenty-eight-year-old woman meant that she knew now just how disinterested Nathan had really been. The man had barely kissed her. At the time it seemed romantic. That he was somehow honoring her by refraining from taking her to bed.
The years, and that experience, had made her so much more cynical. She saw it now for what it was. Dear Lord, when a man was trying to take advantage of you and he didn’t add sex to that, he was so uninterested there was almost no scale by which to measure it.
And when she remembered her ultimate humiliation... No. She wouldn’t remember it.
She was organizing. She was in her happy place. She pulled out a few of her favorite outfits and walked out of the closet and into her bedroom, laying each carefully hung and wrapped ensemble on the bed. She stood there for a moment regarding them when her phone started buzzing from its position on the comforter.
She saw her father’s name and her heart did a shimmy up to her throat. She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d made the engagement with Dmitri official. Mainly, she spoke to her father when she went home for dinner with him once a month. Being with him was difficult. Ever since her mistake it had been.
But then, it was sort of difficult to sit down to a meal with someone you’d betrayed so badly, whether or not you’d done it on purpose.
She took a breath to try to dispel the tension in her chest and picked up the phone. “Hello, Dad.”
“Hello, Victoria. What is this I see about your engagement?”
He was not one for preamble, her father. “Oh, yes. That. I was going to ring you about that.”
She’d intended to ring him about it a couple of weeks ago. She’d intended to ring him about it last week, too. She also intended to ring him about it last night. But every time she had started to dial his number she’d got cold feet. After the way the Stavros thing had blown up she hadn’t been feeling very keen. Because she knew that this time her father would be suspicious of it working out, and in the end of course he would be right, because she didn’t intend to marry Dmitri. But it wouldn’t matter in the end because she would have returned what she had lost. Even so, it was a conversation she had been delaying purposefully.
“I confess I did not expect to read about my only child’s engagement in the newspaper.”
“Yes, well. That is unfortunate. I was quite surprised when Dmitri asked, and given his position the press is all over it of course.”
Her father continued on without pausing. “He owns London Diva.”
“Yes—” bugger, she had been caught out “—he does. I am aware of that.”
“What is it you are doing, Victoria?”
“Getting married.” She looked down at her manicured hands. “I am of marriageable age. Past, really. It’s about time, honestly. But yes, I was feeling hesitant about calling you because of circumstances being what they are. Dmitri’s ownership of what was formerly our family business, and of course my aborted arrangement with Stavros.”
“You are in love with him?” It wasn’t concern she heard in her father’s voice, rather, a cold curiosity.
“Honestly, Dad, I’m much more concerned with practicalities than I am with love. But I am very fond of him.”
Her father chuckled. “Neatly done, Victoria. If you had said that you are madly in love with him I would have known you were lying.”
Her father’s words disconcerted her somewhat. She had gone out of her way to change. To learn from her mistakes. To think with her head, rather than letting her heart lead. Even so, it did hurt a little bit to hear someone else’s assessment of her and her character.
But then, considering she had enlisted the services of a matchmaker to help her find a suitable and dispassionate marriage, she supposed she couldn’t blame her father. No, the blame rested squarely with herself. The thing was, she really didn’t care much about love, unless she was thinking in terms of avoiding it.
“Right. Well. Not lying. Are you concerned for my well-being...or...?”
“You have a tendency to land yourself on the wrong side of men. Are you sure I won’t have another scandal to clean up in the next few months?”
Shame, anger, sadness, threatened to choke her. “Well, I don’t plan on it.”
“Then what are you planning? What are your goals concerning London Diva?”
Her throat constricted, drying. This was her moment. Much earlier than she had expected to have it. She hadn’t intended to say anything until she was able to present him with a document stating legal ownership. But of course he would know that Dmitri was the one who now held ownership, and of course he would be suspicious of the link. She simply wasn’t capable of playing stupid.
“My plans are to return London Diva to its rightful place.”
There was a brief pause. “We’ll see.” No vote of confidence. No request she rethink an engagement purely for the sake of the family business. Nothing more. He simply rang off.
His response wasn’t surprising. She should expect his indifference and lack of confidence at this point. But it still hurt. Every time.
“I’m going to fix it,” she said, the silence of her bedroom only slightly less responsive than her father.
The phone rang again while still in her hand, and she pressed the green icon. “Hello?”
“Hello, darling.”
It was Dmitri, the way his accent curled around the endearment making it sound exotic, catching her off guard. Well, obviously she was caught off guard, or she would never apply a word like exotic to a silly endearment. Particularly not one designed to make her angry.
“Did you need something?”
“I was wondering how the plans were coming along.”
“Just fine. I was getting ready to book tickets. I’m assuming that you’re springing for first class,” she said, just to needle him. Because her interaction with her father had made her feel low and for some reason pushing against Dmitri brought her a rush of adrenaline that made her feel invigorated.
He chuckled and she held the phone away from her ear. A perk of not being near him in person. She did not have to listen to that unsettling sound. “I was thinking I might do you one better. We’re going on my private jet.”
“Fantastic. Then I don’t have to limit how many pairs of shoes I bring.”
“Ah, milaya moya, I promise to buy you shoes once we get there.”
“Yes, but will you let me choose them? You don’t seem to think I should be allowed to choose my own things.”
“That depends. I have always been a fan of the kinds of shoes that make a woman look like she’s begging to be bent over a piece of furniture and pleasured until she can’t speak.”
Victoria couldn’t speak now. But it had nothing to do with pleasure. Her cheeks were on fire. Her heart pounding so hard she felt dizzy. She swallowed, somehow finding words again. “And what kinds of shoes are those?”
“Stilettos, of course.”
She sighed. “Yes, predictable.”
“Possibly a little bit. But I guarantee you what happens after the shoes are on is less predictable.”
She found herself searching for words again. “I’m packing. Shoes. But