Page 69 of Twisted Prince

Fuck, it wasn’t even lust.

It was survival.

And suddenly, the message is ringing loud and clear.

That gut instinct that told me something was wrong? I misread it completely. It was warning me that I should heed Sascha’s advice. That Mel’s just like Val, speaking out of both sides of her mouth to suit her own needs. Choosing whichever master will give her the best offer.

Of course, she doesn’t want to be a dancer all her life.

But she doesn’t want me either.

She wants a real opportunity. Security. Freedom through money.

And the moment Keoghan Kelly’s cousin offered it up, she could turn her back on me.

What I hate more than anything is dishonesty. People who don’t hold to their integrity. I thought Mel had that, but I should have read the signs.

How many times has Mel lied to me? Kept the truth for her own benefit?

She didn’t even bother to tell me about her daughter until she thought I might actually help her out of this situation. I’m such an idiot.

At least I’m the only one who’s gotten hurt this time. At least I didn’t get countless men slaughtered by keeping quiet or misreading the signs. I might be a slow learner, but I’m learning.

“I won’t be a problem anymore,” I state, my voice heavy with defeat as I look up at the Irishman who beat me far too easily. “You two can live your lives in peace. Let me go, and I’ll leave. Right now. Tonight. I swear you’ll never see me again.”

“How noble of you,” he sneers. “But that doesn’t fix the fact that you nearly broke my nose, you piece of shit.”

“Please, Vinny,” Mel says behind me, her voice soft and sickeningly enticing.

The sound of his name on her lips is like a stake through the heart. Like it was always meant to be there, a whispered caress that says she’ll do anything he wants for a pair of Jimmy Choos.

My blood runs cold when I think about them together. To think of his hands all over her perfect body, using her for whatever twisted pleasures he enjoys. I can see it in his eyes, the insanity. He’ll use her up and spit her out. Every precious inch of her.

The idea of Mel selling her soul for a few jewels and a comfy home fills me with agony. I wonder if she knows that he’s just as likely to kill her when he gets tired of her five, ten years down the road.

The Kellys are known for that.

Because they don’t believe in divorce.

They’re proper Irish Catholics.

It’s one of the many reasons I left Boston in the first place.

But I can’t bring myself to warn Mel. Not when it feels like she’s punched a hole through my chest. It took four men trained by the same man who taught me everything I know to restrain me. It took three words from Mel to bring me to my knees.

I let my emotions get the best of me. And now here I am, locked in the hold of two brothers who never beat me on their best day when we were growing up—even if they’re years older than I am.

Behind me, she gives a cheeky giggle, breaking the tense silence. “Come on, Vinny. Just think of it as a wedding present to me. I’d rather not watch some guy bleed out on the carpet. Spare me the grizzly visual?”

Vinny hums his amusement and gestures to my brothers to let me go.

And because he’s a Kelly, they do, shoving me roughly forward. My arms scream in protest as I catch myself before my face meets the carpet. Pulse pounding in my head, I climb slowly to my feet, assessing the aftermath of our fight.

The room’s a complete disaster.

Blood already stains the plush carpet from Harper’s and Hans’s injuries. They both scowl at me with renewed hatred as they clasp their open wounds. No love lost between my brothers and me. If they weren’t heartless killing machines in the first place, my leaving Boston certainly didn’t help our relationship any. And tonight’s fight surely sealed the deal.

Fuck them. They’re as sick and twisted in the head as my old man, as far as I’m concerned.

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