Page 42 of Twisted Prince

He says something to her, but I can’t hear it over the music.

And all I see is red as Mel freezes mid-performance.

Her muscles tense as she cringes away from his touch.

The space between us vanishes as my rage overcomes my common sense. Vaulting across a table full of diners, I sprint the last few yards to wrap my hand around the bastard’s throat. And with a violent snarl, I lift him bodily out of his chair and slam him onto the ground.

He coughs and wheezes, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as the air abandons his lungs.

“Gleb!” Mel screams, and through my haze of fury, I’m shocked by the relief her voice brings me.

But that’s not going to stop me from beating this handsy creep to death. He put his hands on Mel, and I’ll kill him for it.

In the back of my mind, I track the screams of patrons who cower around our skirmish. And behind me, a hulking figure looms. I only have a few more seconds to deliver damage before my brothers step in. So, I make each one count.

Two pairs of hands grasp my arms, but even in my bloodthirsty rage, I’m ready for them. Slipping their grip, I shift my position and land two more punches. The blond howls as bones give beneath my fist—his nose breaking.

Then, the hard point of a large knee finds my temple, and I see stars.

In the moment it takes me to regain my senses, I’m hauled to my feet, my arms forced behind my back. My brothers steer me from the club to the cheers of patrons and the faint sound of Mel calling my name.

“Do you have any idea whose nose you just broke?” one of Keoghan’s hired muscles growls as they drag me toward the door.

“I think you mean thank you for doing your jobs. Where were you, you slow-ass fucks?” I snarl, struggling—though I know it’s futile—because my fury still burns to explode from my chest.

“The boss won’t take kindly to you beating up his cousin,” the other adds.

They shove me out the door with such force that they launch me past the steps and straight toward the pavement below. I tuck and roll at the last second, cushioning my fall. But the impact still makes my ribs and shoulder groan in protest. Gasping for breath, I look up from the ground, glaring at the emotionally stunted gorillas that are biologically my brothers.

“Don’t come back, Gleb. If you do, you’ll regret it.”

17

MEL

Was that really Gleb?

Did he… come for me?

My heart pounds a mile a minute as I stare after the quickly retreating backs. I can scarcely bring myself to believe it. But he looked like Gleb, moved like Gleb. He sure as hell fought like Gleb. What could he possibly be doing in Boston?

The thought releases a geyser of emotion inside me that I’m not prepared to deal with right now. Not here, in the middle of the restaurant, the spotlight still glaring down at me while I stand motionless. Too stunned to process what had just happened.

“What the fuck!” Keoghan’s cousin shouts, allowing two more Kelly men to haul him to his feet. His nose is gushing blood, and I think he’s missing a few teeth. I’m astonished to see just how much damage Gleb managed to inflict in the few brief moments he had on top of the handsy asshole before the bouncers could get to him.

A sneaking satisfaction pools in my belly to know the prick got what he deserved. Clearly, he didn’t take my earlier warning seriously enough.

“Where is that bastard? I want him dead!” the cousin snarls.

Two more Russian bouncers, Andrey and Akim, arrive then to defuse the scene before it can cause any more commotion.

“Come on, Mel,” Akim instructs, shielding my body protectively from the customers I now stand in the midst of.

How I got off the table, I don’t even remember. It all happened so fast.

And as Andrey and Akim usher us from the dining room, I hear Kitty get on the stage mic.

“Nothing like a little drama to get the blood pumping, am I right?” she quips, capturing the audience’s attention and making them laugh. “Let’s give a round of applause for our very convincing boxing act!”

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