Page 122 of Hate You Most

She ripped herself free of his grasp. Her eyes stayed fixed on where Dakota had just stood, as she crossed the dance floor. She weaved through the crowd with the recklessness of someone who had stopped caring whether she bumped into anyone or not. The room pressed against her, hot and loud and too bright.

Lev called out for her, but she was too far away. She wasn't going to turn around and run back into his unromantic arms. Viktoriya wasn't being rational, she knew that, but she also knew that she couldn't survive being rational for the rest of her life.

She reached where Dakota had just stood and realized she must've gone for the exit. She was damn near frantic.

She ran toward the exit of the nightclub, out through the large doors and into the cold late-night air. Directly into view of the lingering paparazzi. The moment the door was closed behind her, the pulsing music faded into muffled silence.

Viktoriya’s breath shuddered out of her as her eyes found Dakota.

Her back was turned as she walked hurriedly away from the club, away from the noise. Viktoriya realized in a panic that Dakota had also put on a dress. A forest green silk dress that glistened against the flashing lights from the surrounding paparazzi. She looked elegant.

The edges of her vision blurred slightly as she ran toward her. She was only a few steps away. Viktoriya reached out for her with a hurried hand. She nearly tumbled as Dakota turned around.

“Dakota, I—” she began, but the word collapsed immediately. Her throat was too tight. Her thoughts were too loud. She had not planned this moment and had no idea what she should say. What could possibly have explained her actions tonight?

Her eyes burned.

“I’m sorry,” she said, because it was the only thing she could force out of her before the rest of her broke apart.

A white flash from the cameras made her look almost ethereal. Whatever pissed expression was on Dakota's face turned into something unreadable.

The distance between them was unbearable and minuscule at the same time. Viktoriya could feel the weight of Dakota’s gaze on her. She had let Lev touch her, let him kiss her. She had let herself be seen with him.

Dakota's eyes flicked briefly back toward the club. They hadn't really moved away from it, and Viktoriya knew the cameras were right there.

“You came here with him,” she said as a cold wind blew between them both.

Viktoriya swallowed hard. “I didn’t—I mean, I did, but I didn’t—” Her own words sounded stupid in her ears. They were entirely inadequate for the wreckage she had just made of her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. Her expression didn't soften the slightest.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Viktoriya said, and that part, at least, was true. “I… this wasn’t supposed to—” She stopped, exhaling sharply. Her hands trembled at her sides. “I came with him because I thought I still could. That I could just… go back to it. To how it was before.”

Dakota’s jaw tightened. She didn't say a single word.

“But I can’t,” she said and realized she was completely out of breath. She couldn't get enough air. “I tried, just now. I tried to be that version of myself again, the one that my father and Russia thinks I should be, and I felt—” she shook her head, her voice cracking, “—nothing. Less than nothing. Like I wasn’t even there.”

Dakota didn’t interrupt. She looked at her, bit her lip and opened her mouth. Then promptly closed it again a moment later.

Viktoriya took a step closer. The air brushed against her bare shoulders. It was freezing cold.

“I tried to forget you,” Viktoriya admitted. “I asked for it and I agreed to it. I let them take my memory because I thought it would fix everything. If I didn’t feel anything for you, I could finally be… what I was supposed to. But it didn’t work, It never worked. Even when I couldn’t remember why, I still—” She stopped, swallowing hard, her voice was barely holding together. “I still felt like something was missing.”

Dakota’s expression flickered, just for a second.

Viktoriya stepped even closer. Close enough that the distance between them became fragile.

“I thought loving you was the problem,” she said. “I thought it was this thing that was ruining everything, but it wasn’t. Loving you is the only thing that's ever made me feel something other than numb.” Her brain was giving up. She was too drunk to be having this conversation in English.

“I don’t care about the headlines,” she said. “Or what Lev thinks or wants, or what my father does. I’m still terrified, but—” she shook her head faintly, a broken, breathless sound leaving her. “—I’m more terrified of going back to pretending. To pretending I don’t—” The words caught in the back of her throat.

God, this really was the worst possible moment for her brain to give out.

Dakota’s eyes were locked on her now and Viktoriya didn’t look away.

“Ya tebya lyublyu.” She didn't care anymore. She didn't care that Dakota didn't understand a word of Russian, she just needed to get it off her chest.

Dakota's whole face grimaced in frustration, and her eyes looked helplessly lost. “What?”