Twisted Prince

Chapter One

Mel

“Mama?”

Gabby’s anxious voice yanks me from the dark thoughts churning in my mind, the deep, aching turmoil roiling in my chest—eating me from the inside out. I turn my head toward the hall, putting down the blanket Gleb used last night and left rumpled on the couch where I sit. 

As I do, I’m hit with the remnants of his comforting scent. It lingers around his makeshift bed—the one he preferred over sleeping with me on our wedding night.

I head toward the guest room, where Gabby and I will be staying. As I walk, my passionate encounter with Gleb flashes before my eyes, intensifying my hurt and confusion. Last night was so incredibly perfect. So profound. So filled with intimate pleasure. It washed away all my lingering anxiety over the pain involved with sex. 

It solidified that Gleb is vastly different from the men who hurt and abused me in the past. And it felt as though Gleb and I might have finally overcome the barriers separating us. 

I can’t believe that after our passionate encounter, he chose to move to the couch once I fell asleep. I didn’t even hear him go. It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I realized he wasn’t in bed with me. 

It stings to know he needed that distance from me. And the confusion it stirs in me leaves an anxious knot in my stomach. 

Though the condo’s ceilings are vaulted, the short hall I enter is wide, matching the open concept of the chic living space, I still feel the walls closing in around me. The gloom of the clouds outside this morning turns the pristine, modern interior of Gleb’s home a dim gray that matches my heavy mood. 

Because his rather cold and distant communication before he left for work this morning made it perfectly clear that I have a lot more effort to put in if I want to fix what I broke between us—if that’s even possible.

Forcing the tumultuous thoughts from my mind, I focus on my immediate concern, which I do know how to solve. “I’m right here, keiki,” I assure Gabby, using my Hawaiian term of endearment for her as I open the guest bedroom door.

She’s adorably rumpled, her dark hair in disarray as she looks at me with sleepy eyes. “We have pancakes with Auntie Kieri?”

“No, baby. Auntie Kieri is in Boston, and we came to New York. Remember? It’s too far to drive to see her today. But we’ll have breakfast with her again soon.” 

My heart twinges as I fear how horribly I might have uprooted my daughter from her happy life. Kieri was like family—as close as a mother to me and most definitely a key person and caretaker in Gabby’s life. 

It feels suddenly like a terrible sacrifice—to be without the woman who has supported me and shown us such kindness. My stomach knots as I consider the reason we fled Boston. The reason Gleb drove hundreds of miles to come get us and bring us to New York. 

Vincent Kelly, cousin to Boston’s most ruthless Irish mafia boss. 

I shudder at the memory of his hands on me—first lecherous, then violent when he caught me trying to run away. I made the right decision to leave. Because he didn’t just plan on possessing me—he would have made me put Gabby up for adoption. And just the thought of living without my daughter brings me intense agony. 

Striding farther into the room, I settle onto the bed by Gabby’s feet, and she slips out from under the blankets to climb into my lap. 

“What do you say we make pancakes, just the two of us?” I suggest, giving her a squeeze and kissing her temple. 

“No Geb?” Her seafoam-green eyes—so much like her father’s—are wide with innocence, entirely unaware of the chaos her question unleashes inside of me. Even Gabby’s attempt to say Gleb’s name makes my heart pound. 

Because Gabby’s newfound best friend is someone so much more to me—to her, too, though neither she nor Gleb knows just how significant their connection is. It’s yet another giant barrier that separates me and Gleb since I still haven’t worked up the courage to tell him Gabby’s his daughter. 

In truth, I haven’t been so sure I should tell him. I don’t know that he’ll consider it a good thing. And even if he does, I’m confident he’ll be furious that I kept it from him for so long. He was mad enough about me running out on him three years ago. I can’t imagine he’ll take it well that I took his unborn child with me. 

But if we’re going to live together under the same roof—regardless of whether something real comes out of our sham marriage or not—he deserves to know the truth. Right? The fact that he married me just to keep us safe should be proof that he deserves the opportunity to be a part of Gabby’s life. 

“Gleb had to go to work, keiki,” I explain, forcing myself out of a reverie once again. “But I’m sure we can see him later. In the meantime, shall we explore his super-cool house?” I infuse my voice with enthusiasm to mask the lingering ache created by Gleb’s curt departure.

“Yeah!” Gabby says, trumping my excitement as she leaps off my lap. 

And just like that, she’s wide awake.

“Maybe you can help me unpack our new things,” I suggest, opening the bag of clothes Silvia lent me. All of Gabby’s and my possessions are back in the destroyed Escalade just outside of New Haven.

“Okay!” Gabby joins me by the bag.

I pull out a small stack of toddler-size pants for her and place them carefully in her arms. As she carries them to the dresser, I follow with the bag and open the lowest drawer for her. 

Gabby attempts to neatly tuck the pants into a corner. She manages to keep them stacked until she pulls her arms out of the drawer—at which point, the pants topple into a heap of colorful fabric. Smiling, I help her tidy them up before we dig back into the bag for a stack of shirts. 

Silvia was more than generous in her donations, and Gabby’s eyes light up as we uncover some beautiful dresses for both her and me. My little girl has always loved colorful patterns—anything with flowers, really. And it would seem either Silvia is of the same mindset or she just knew what Gabby would enjoy.

We spend about ten minutes unpacking and another fifteen getting dressed, then we head out into the spacious main room of the two-bedroom condo. It must cost an arm and a leg to live here. From the high ceilings and large picture windows that look out on Central Park to the white marble kitchen countertops and hanging light fixtures that resemble glowing glass orbs, it’s immaculate. 

Gabby’s eyes grow wide as she sees it all for the first time. This is the nicest place we’ve ever stayed in by far. It breaks my heart a little to know that, as Gleb’s daughter, this is the lifestyle Gabby should be entitled to, the home she deserves—one I’ve never been able to provide for her.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” I ask, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her tiny knuckles as she grips my middle and pointer fingers. 

She puts her free thumb in her mouth and nods, her head swiveling slowly to take in every fine detail. 

In the kitchen, she looks lost, unfamiliar with the layout or the fine-brushed silver bars that serve as handles for the cupboards. Kieri’s old dark-stained wood cabinets didn’t have handles, and I’m sure the sleek design of Gleb’s pristine white ones must look like some kind of futuristic puzzle to my little girl. 

“Shall we look for breakfast ingredients?” I show her how to open the cabinets as I start with the tall one that looks like the pantry. 

Hoisting her onto my hip, I shift items around as we dig for baking soda, flour, and sugar—none of which I can find. 

“I don’t know, Gabby. Pancakes might be off the menu until we can go to the store.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, her tone dipping with disappointment.

I open the fridge, praying Gleb actually has food on hand. The pantry didn’t help my optimism. But as soon as the cool air washes over us, relief floods me. 

He might not have a lot of baking materials, but Gleb has an entire produce section in his fridge—fruits, vegetables, eggs, milk. Funny, but I never considered what kind of an eater Gleb might be. For all the time we’ve spent together, I’ve never seen him eat—except for at the restaurant where Pyotr and Silvia treated us to dinner last night after we got married. 

Again, that gaping chasm between me and Gleb yawns before me. I wonder what it might take to actually know him—as a person, not just a brooding savior shrouded in mystery and burdened by my assumptions.

“How about some scrambled eggs with cheese?” I suggest, trying to make that sound as delicious as pancakes.

“Yeah!” Her smile is radiant as she peers into the fridge with me.

I don’t know how I got blessed with such an agreeable child. But I won’t stop counting my blessings.

“And maybe some fruit?” I open the fruit drawer and pull out an apple, handing it to Gabby before I go in for the box of strawberries. 

Together, we whip up a healthy breakfast and head to the kitchen table to eat. Gleb doesn’t have a booster chair handy, so I keep Gabby on my lap, and we pick at the same plate. 

My little girl is wonderfully cheerful. She’s talkative despite the danger and upheaval she’s endured lately—from having her life uprooted to surviving a high-speed chase, then sleeping in my hospital room with only Gleb to watch over her because I was in a coma for three days. And through it all, neither of them knew that Gleb is Gabby’s biological father. 

I chew my lip as I consider what could have happened if I hadn’t woken from my comatose state. They might never have found out because I’m the only one who knows the truth. Guilt eats at my insides. 

Seeing how good he is with Gabby, how drawn to him she is…

I don’t know where Gleb and I will end up. I try to think of any sign he’s given me that he might be happy in this marriage, but I can’t. Not since I agreed to marry Vincent Kelly. 

That night, I watched Gleb walk out of my life for what I thought would be the last time. And though he came back for me and Gabby when I desperately needed his help, nothing between us feels the same. I killed whatever affection he might have felt for me when I chose Vincent Kelly. 

Yesterday, when Gleb and I stood at the altar, he seemed more tortured than anything. Nothing about our half-baked wedding ceremony or the dinner that followed gives me hope that he wants to pursue a real relationship with me. 

And his reluctance to sleep with me afterward only reinforces that fact. Though the sex last night was out of this world in my book, I practically had to coerce him into it. I wonder how quickly he slipped out of the room after I fell asleep.

It makes my heart throb to picture him lying there, just waiting for the opportunity.

And then this morning?

I might as well have been his secretary for all the intimacy we shared in our brief exchange. Then, he practically ran out the door to get away from me. 

No, I don’t have high hopes that he’s ready to forgive me. 

But I’m determined to make the best of our situation. Because despite all the curve balls I’ve thrown his way, Gleb has continued to save my ass. He’s shown more genuine concern for me than any other man who’s passed through my life. 

As I think of all he’s done for me over the years, my conviction to tell him about Gabby grows. He saved our lives—he’s saved mine alone more times than I can count. He’s promised me and my daughter his protection despite the risks. He’s shown Gabby such care and consideration without a second thought. Now, more than ever, I know he deserves the truth about his daughter.

Taking a deep breath, I start to formulate a plan.

“You want to help me do some cooking for dinner tonight, keiki?” I ask as Gabby forks a clumsy mouthful of eggs toward her mouth. 

They topple off the tines back onto the plate as she turns to look at me. “What we make, Mama?”

“I don’t know just yet, but once we finish breakfast, we’ll see what we have to work with.”

“Okay!”

It’s an easy day, much like Gabby and I would get on my one day off from the burlesque lounge where I worked for the Kellys. We plan our cooking extravaganza, explore the house, and watch cartoons on Gleb’s massive eighty-inch TV—which occupies an entire wall of his living room. Then, we prepare a stir fry with ingredients from the fridge and pantry. 

The sun sets, and as the night grows later, I debate whether I should text Gleb to find out when he’ll be home. I don’t want to nag him—especially after the brusque way he left this morning. But it’ll be Gabby’s bedtime soon. 

I’d hoped to have a nice family dinner, then tuck her in for the evening before dropping my bomb on Gleb. But I don’t want to keep disrupting Gabby’s schedule if I can help it. She’s had such a trying week. 

Finally, I decide to feed her and get her ready for bed. 

By 10 p.m., Gabby’s sleeping soundly. That’s when my anxiety really kicks in. Gleb did say he’d be back today, didn’t he? Did he give me a time? 

Not that I recall. But I got the impression that he would be home by now. 

What if he decided to stay away after what happened last night? 

I glance down at the satin tank-and-shorts sleepwear Silvia lent me—not provocative, but revealing enough that I might encourage a repeat of our wedding night tryst. Is it too much? Maybe he’s hoping I’ll already be in bed, so I won’t bother him.

I eye the food sitting on low heat on the stove. Maybe I should pack it up. But I would hate to put it in the fridge only to have him walk through the door. 

My entire body jolts at the sound of a key sliding into a lock. Pressing my palm to my heart, I pad into the entryway to meet Gleb at the front door. I force a smile onto my face, ready to try again to remove the wedge I drove between us.

But as he steps inside, my heart comes to a shuddering stop.

Expression stone-cold, Gleb looks exhausted.

Emotion riots inside his green eyes, warning me that something’s wrong.

Then, as he shrugs out of his black leather biker’s jacket,  I see the blood.

His dress shirt is soaked in it.

Violent crimson spatters covering his chest, his abdomen, and his jeans.

“Oh my god, Gleb!” I gasp, rushing forward as panic surges through me.

His eyes flash up to meet mine, taking me in all at once as he locks the door behind him.

“Are you hurt? Is that your blood?” Disregarding the mess, I tug on the buttons of his shirt in an attempt to uncover his injury.

Strong fingers grasp my wrists, pushing my hands away, and there’s no misinterpreting his body language as Gleb growls, “I’m fine. It’s not mine.”

Ice trickles through my veins at the anger in his tone, and I peer up at him through my lashes, suddenly nervous that I did something wrong.

“What happened?” I ask tentatively. 

Following a few steps behind, I watch as Gleb tosses his jacket on the coat rack and heads toward his bedroom.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he states coldly.

But I’m not ready to give up. Not when my heart can’t find a steady rhythm. Grabbing his arm, I try to regain his attention. “Gleb, just talk to me. Are you mad? What’s wrong?”

Turning on me so suddenly that I nearly slam into his chest, Gleb looks down at me with such intense anger, I know I must have done something to piss him off.

“Is there a reason you have to walk around the house practically naked?” he demands.

“I-I—I thought you might like it.” My heart sinks as I look down at the soft fabric.

“Yeah, well, you’re only making this harder than it needs to be. You’re here so I can keep you safe, but what happened last night can’t happen again. It was a mistake, and we both know it, so just… go to bed, Mel.” 

His words rip through me as Gleb turns and slams his bedroom door in my face. He really thinks sleeping with me was a mistake. 

The effort I put in today has only come back to bite me. 

Because I now know without a doubt that Gleb no longer wants me. 

And worse, I don’t think he would want to hear that Gabby’s his daughter.