Deviant Prince: A Forbidden bad boy Mafia Romance. (Born to Darkness Duet Book 1)

by Claire C. Riley

  My heart thumped against my ribs and I held back a whimper as my back hit the wall and I realized I had nowhere else to go. His fists slammed against the wall on either side of my head and I screamed in shock as the wall vibrated against my back.

  “If I could rewind time, I’d never entangle myself with your family. I wouldn’t honor our engagement when your parents turned out to be worthless betrayers,” he said through gritted teeth his face an inch from mine. So close I could smell the vodka on his breath. “You’re trash and a whore, just like your mother was, Marisha.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that!” I spat out, once again words slipping from between my lips before I had the good sense to stop them.

  Ivan was stunned into silence.

  But the quiet didn’t last long.

  It never does before the storm.

  His hands left the wall and he moved away from me. Far enough to study me, his anger melting into thoughtfulness.

  “You think now’s a good time to grow a backbone. Is that it, wife?”

  “No, Ivan. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I—,”

  But I couldn’t finish my apology. It was his fist that stopped me, slamming into my already bruised cheek.

  I saw stars, nausea rising in my throat as the pain flooded my body and assaulted my senses. I couldn’t stop my body from sinking down against the wall and slumping against the floor. I didn’t even have enough of my senses left to cry, all I could do was blink to clear my vision and gag against the pain.

  “If I wasn’t in such a hurry, Marisha, I’d bring you to the edge of death now,” he warned through gritted teeth, his hand flexing above me, taunting me of what was to come. “But we’ll have to finish this later.” He narrowed his eyes, his mouth set in a hard thin line and I shuddered as I realized that this was just the start. This was just a taste of what would happen once he came home later.

  “Decatur!” Ivan yelled and I pulled my legs up to my chest to protect my body from him. Ivan sneered down at me before turning away and shouting once again. “Decatur!”

  “I’m ready, Sir. The Rolls is waiting.” Our chauffeur’s voice floated to me, hazy and muted. I blinked, finding another pair of legs hovering near the house entrance.

  “Good. Let’s go.” Ivan’s pinstripe suit swished away from me.

  “Sir, I’ve not had a chance to move your personal car--”

  “Leave it for now, Decatur. There’s no goddamn time to waste.”

  My face stung, but the rest of my body felt so numb, so hollow.

  And the slamming of the front door, then the revving of the engine as Decatur drove Ivan away from the house, only served to seal my emptiness.

  Like the knot at the bottom of an inflated balloon. Nothing inside to fill the space, yet somehow it managed to look full. That was me. Empty underneath the wounded human exterior.

  I must have sat there on the cold floor for half an hour, until I was chilled and shaking. It took all of my willpower to stand up and walk on unreliable legs up the stairs towards the bedroom. I paused midway, glancing at my face in an ornate mirror that was more Ivan’s taste than my own. God, everything in the house was Ivan’s taste. Not mine. There was nothing here that represented me.

  The reflective surface of the gilded decor blinked back at me.

  A large purple-brown bruise circled my eye and bled down my cheek. I wondered if the bone was broken. There was a small gash as well, slicing down my lip. Blood dripped down my chin. He had finally done it, drawn blood.

  If I turned my head just so, I could reflect only the unmarked side of my face. An eyelid sporting understated, demure makeup. An expertly drawn eyebrow arch. A perfectly blushed cheekbone. The flaws were hidden this way.

  Swallowing down the lump that formed in my throat as I reached fingers up to gingerly brush the bruise, I made my way up the rest of the stairs.

  The bedroom’s double doors were open, and I found myself hovering just inside the space, staring at the large king bed.

  How did my life end up like this?

  Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of how different things could have been if my parents hadn’t been murdered. If they’d honored their loyalty to the Bratva. I could have refused to marry Ivan, regardless of him asking for my hand. Maybe I could have waited for love.

  Maybe there would have been a way for me to be with Alexander.

  Alexander.

  Handsome. And strong.

  So far out of my reach.

  I almost wished I hadn’t met Alexander. Because now that I had, I knew I’d never be happy in this life, or with this man. I’d never be able to be the meek, dutiful wife that Ivan expected. I could never give him what he desired or be the woman he wanted.

  I didn’t love him.

  I didn’t want him.

  And since meeting Alexander I’d had a taste of how good life and love could, and should, really be, and now I craved it to the point of madness.

  However, there was no escaping my husband or my prison; my parents and Ivan had seen to that. Not that any of my desires mattered anyway, because if things didn’t go Ivan’s way tonight, it was unlikely that I would survive his wrath.

  And perhaps it was better that way.

  To love and to have lost, instead of living a lie.

  The Bratva prince had changed me. Irrevocably.

  And our affair would change the course of history, for both of us.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Alexander

  We arrived back at the Botanical Gardens a short time later, Father’s car taking the lead and his driver dropping him off at the front entrance before parking. Father and Nik of course didn’t know that I’d already been here once today. It was hard to believe that they couldn’t see the memory of my encounter with Marisha written across my face. I could still smell her and taste her, and I needed more.

  As expected, Father had already seated himself just outside of the main function room by the time Nik and I had parked and entered. He sipped champagne and looked the picture of bored sophistication as he waited. The occasion was female only and any man entering, even the Bratva King, would be frowned upon.

  My father might run this city, he might have every man that knew his name in the palm of his hand, but this was my mother's time to shine. This was her night, and he knew not to overstep and venture into her domain.

  My parents had a wonderful relationship, something that I was only just coming to admire and respect. They loved without question and duty, though without a doubt they had been forced into this arranged marriage originally. Yet they had truly fallen in love. They had raised two children and had grown an empire together, and they still loved as fiercely as ever.

  I realized, for the first time, that this was what I craved.

  Not one-night stands. Not anymore. As satisfying as they were in the moment, they didn’t fill the need that I had, not like Marisha did. Maybe this was what it was to become a man, to realize your own true potential and desire for more than just sex and money. I wanted the love and respect of a woman. I wanted her body to be the one that helped me build my own empire, her passion beside me when I eventually assumed the throne. I wanted her to be the mother of my heirs.

  I sighed and looked around, hoping to find Marisha, but not seeing her anywhere.

  “You’re quiet tonight.” Nikolai signaled the bartender to us. “Two vodkas, make them doubles,” he said, before turning to lean back on the bar and assess the room where the function was being held.

  I was checking my cell for the tenth time, scowling at the lack of reply from Marisha and wondering over what the hell I was going to do. I wanted to keep her—it was as simple as that, and I wouldn’t rest until she was mine. But I couldn’t just take Ivan’s wife for my own, even my own father wouldn’t support that.

  It seemed hopeless, and yet I refused to believe it was so.

  My only chance was for Ivan to fuck up. I’d thought perhaps tonight would be it yet he’d somehow slit
hered his way out of the Italian situation still in tact. I didn’t trust it though—or him, something was off, I just needed to find out what.

  “He’s been like this all week,” my father chimed in. “Head in his phone constantly, thoughts elsewhere.” Father paused and I knew from past conversations that he wasn’t done and was waiting for me to look him in the eye.

  So I did.

  I slipped my phone back into my jacket pocket and looked at him. He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his champagne, a smug grin on his face.

  “Your sister tells me you’ve met someone,” he finally said, and I sighed heavily.

  “My sister needs to mind her own business,” I replied sharply, but he didn’t care, he wanted the details. He wanted to make sure she was worthy of the crown she would be wearing. That she was good enough for the family. “It’s nothing. At least, not yet.”

  He tutted, not looking convinced. “I warned you, son. You don’t have much time left.”

  Anger rose in me and I tried to dampen it down. I didn’t want to ruin the night by arguing with him, especially when he’d been so patient with me. He hadn't been given this choice; a wife had been picked for him and that was his duty. By giving me the time and space to explore, he’d shown he was more progressive than I gave him credit for. I’d never really thought about it. Never really been grateful. He could have easily followed in his own father’s footsteps, handpicking the future Bratva Queen. My father and mother had been lucky. They had loved hard and fast, a perfect match. That wasn’t always the case—just look at Ivan and Marisha.

  Marisha… why the fuck hadn’t she replied?

  I stared over at the function room entrance, more than ready to barge in there and see why she was ignoring me. Just a text to say she couldn’t meet would suffice, but to leave me hanging like this was agonizing. As if by some twisted miracle, the beautifully dressed fundraiser crowds parted and my sister and mother came out.

  “There she is,” my father said, our discussion over for the moment. He walked towards my mother and pulled her into his arms, kissing her like this was the first time he’d seen her all day. My mother laughed sweetly, patting her blushing cheek and chiding my father for mussing her lipstick.

  Nikolai clapped me on the shoulder and spoke seriously. “Whoever this mystery woman is, Alexander, you need to show her to your father soon or he’ll be fitting you a wedding suit and sending you down the aisle with a mutton for a wife. I’ve heard the Verinichs are searching for a husband for their daughter.”

  I turned and scowled at him. “They should know better than to look in my direction.”

  Nikolai chuckled. “Every family is looking in your direction right now, Alexander.”

  Katya parted from our parents and headed towards us and Nikolai caught the attention of the bartender again and ordered her a champagne. I cocked an eyebrow at him as he took the glass and held it out to my sister.

  “Sometimes it’s just exhausting arguing with her constantly,” he said and winked, but I couldn’t muster my normal response to his antics with her.

  “Arguing with whom?” Katya said, taking the champagne he held out, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “You,” I said, sending Nikolai to the doghouse for being such a pussy, “he said you’re argumentative.”

  “Fuck off!” he snapped, scowling at me, and I chuckled.

  “Did you just tell me to fuck off?” it was Katya’s turn to snap now. “Did you spit in my drink? Or maybe drop a roofie in it?”

  “Please, you think I couldn’t have you if I wanted? That I’d need drugs to get you in my bed?” Nikolai said, picking up his vodka with a snort. “If I wanted you, Katya, I could have you anytime. I wouldn’t need to roofie you, woman!”

  “I’ve a good mind to throw this drink over you,” she bit out.

  “And I’ve a good mind to take you over my lap and spank some manners into you!” he snapped back.

  I held my hands up and stepped between them. “I don’t know why you two hate each other so much, but I’m sick of the arguing. No one is throwing a drink, and no one is spanking my goddamn sister!”

  “Your friend is a pig,” Katya grumbled, still glaring at him.

  “Your sister is a…”

  “Be very fucking careful what you say next, my friend,” I said, scowling at Nikolai, “she may be a pain in the ass, but she’s still my sister.”

  Thankfully, my mother and father joined us at that moment, and as always, were seemingly amused by the tension between Nikolai and Katya.

  “Alexander,” my mother said, “a word please.”

  She walked away and I looked to my father for explanation, but he looked as confused as I was. Katya looked away sheepishly, so it was obvious that whatever this was, she knew about it.

  I followed my mother to the far side of the foyer, away from prying ears, where she stood staring out at the beautiful gardens. I thought once again of Marisha and our brief time together out there earlier today; the urge to check my phone for the millionth time—despite not hearing it ping or vibrate—was almost overwhelming.

  “Everything okay, Mother?” I asked as I came to stand beside her.

  My mother was a beautiful woman and she looked after herself so she stayed that way, but even so, I could see the tiredness in her eyes and knew what my father had said earlier to be true. She was weary of this life and wanted something other than the danger that came with it. She wanted her family around her; sons, daughters, wives, husbands, children, grandbabies. Love and laughter, over blood and butchery.

  “Marisha Zolotov was here earlier,” she said, and I froze at her words. Her soft gaze was on mine, watching my every movement. “Her husband came to collect her,” she said simply, like there was nothing unusual or concerning about that, but my heart beat sharply, bits of ice biting at the organ.

  “Oh?” I said, forcing the single syllable out before throwing the vodka to the back of my throat.

  She was frowning as she watched me, her lips pursed as she took in every subtle movement. “I’ve never been a fan of Ivan. He was always too rash with his decisions and too violent when violence wasn’t required. He enjoyed the bloodshed, where bloodshed should only be a means to an end. There’s a certain appearance one needs to have when in this lifestyle. He has never quite fit the modern mold of our industry, despite his efforts.”

  “I agree,” I replied, wondering where this was going.

  “We’re not street gangsters anymore, yet he still behaves like he is.”

  I nodded in agreement. Truth be known, I thought the same thing. Half of me hated that I had been the one to convince my father to let him back into our lives, but the other couldn’t. If I did, then I would never have gotten close to Marisha, and that was something I would never regret.

  Ivan had been steadfast over the years, despite his unmannered behavior. He had made the family money and lucrative connections. Yes, if he had ordered Stefano to rush things and ruin the deal to try and get in my father’s good graces, then he had made a bad judgement call, but he was still that pesky word loyal. And that was the most important quality in our world. Especially to my father.

  “I’ve never trusted him. Not before, and not now,” she continued.

  I nodded. “I know that. But business is business, mother, and Ivan—”

  “Shut up, Alexander, and listen to me,” she ordered, and I snapped my mouth shut. “Business and money must take a backseat in this case.”

  Mother linked her arm with mine and we began to walk. “Do you think I don’t see what’s going on between you and that woman, Alexander?” I tried to bring us to a halt, but she tugged on my arm. “Keep walking, son.”

  “Mother, I…”

  “Do not lie to me, Alexander. You may be a man now but I’m still your mother and I will still wash your mouth out with soap if another lie slips from that tongue of yours!” she snapped, her usually tender voice filled with irritation. “Do you think I did not recognize you
r behavior at the restaurant? Your father and I, many, many years ago, were the young lovers hiding away our passion.”

  I smiled at that. Of course, I could not hide it from her. I could never hide anything from my mother. Eyes in the back of her head, as some would say. Before I could say anything, she spoke once more, and this time her voice was full of worry and fear.

  “Ivan came to collect Marisha earlier. He was furious. More than furious, he looked truly unhinged.”

  I did pull us to a stop now and I turned to face her. My eyes searched her expression for something… anything. I didn’t even care that she had guessed we had been seeing each other. It seemed irrelevant now, in light of this new information.

  “Do you think he’ll harm her?” I asked.

  Ivan was crazy and controlling at the best of times, but if he suspected something—which was possible since my mother had guessed—then who knew what he would do to Marisha.

  “Son,” my mother began, reaching up to place a hand on my cheek. “A man doesn’t become a king, he makes himself one. A man doesn’t ask for respect, he earns it through action. And a man doesn’t have power, he takes it,” she said.

  “Mother?” I asked, taking her hand from my face and holding it gently as I frowned.

  “Do you love her?” she asked, bluntly, her eyes searching mine.

  I stared down at my mother. My beautiful, wonderful mother, who loved her children and my father unequivocally, and I nodded feeling the full weight of that confession to my very core.

  “Then yes, I think he will hurt her,” she replied.

  “Fuck,” I said, releasing her hand and reaching for my phone. “She’s not answered any of my texts from earlier.”

  “Then you need to go to her,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

  “But it’s Marisha, mother… and with her family history I didn’t think…”

  My mother tsked and waved my comment away. “That’s history now. And the history of men is just that. You and your sister are the future, Son.”

  My heart was hammering in my chest. The prospect of a future with Marisha, of becoming the Bratva King when my father stepped down. Of having Marisha as my Queen… I swallowed and nodded.