Page 101 of My Dark Horse Prince

“I was more surprised by the fiancé part, honestly,” Adriana says. “My own sister didn’t even tell me.”

I don’t know how to respond to his ridiculous claim. He hasn’t said anything that stupid since the day after we first met. Although, he has spent most of his time since then with four hooves and no powers of speech.

“Mom, are you coming?” I ask, ignoring all of them. “I brought Kristiana’s truck.”

“No,” Martinš says. “She’s staying.”

Grigoriy steps closer, still clasping my hand in his. “You will sit down.” A blast of air punctuates his command, and my step-dad flies backward into his weathered armchair with a whump.

“What was that?” Martinš leaps to his feet. “What did you do?”

“He’s standing right by me,” I say. “What could he possibly have done?” I squeeze Grigoriy’s hand and shake my head slightly, in case he wasn’t sure what to do.

“I’m just here to make sure you stay polite and calm while we remove your wife from this miserable little apartment.” Grigoriy smiles. “Though, I must admit.” He drops his voice and shifts a little closer. “I’m secretly hoping that you do something very, very stupid. Ever since I found out how you damaged my Mirdza, I’ve been fantasizing most every night about beating you to death.” His smile’s terrifying.

My stomach turns, and I try to pull my hand away. This is exactly the Grigoriy who makes my blood run cold. It’s the reason I’ve kept him around only as a horse.

But my uncle’s sputtering is a reaction I’ve never seen before, and it distracts me. “You’ve been. . .what?” He fumbles and nearly drops his phone, he’s so desperate to extricate it from his pocket. Then he frantically dials numbers on it.

If it were anyone other than my stepdad, I’d think he was calling the authorities, but he would never.

No, he’s calling someone else.

“Danils,” he hisses. “Yes, it’s me. Mirdza’s here with her fiancé, and he’s threatening to beat me to death.” He pauses. “Yes. Of course.” He hangs up and puffs out his chest. “He’ll be right over.”

“Oh, good.” Grigoriy’s smile never wavers. “Her ex-boyfriend is the other person I’ve been wanting to meet.”

Martinš clearly does not understand. “You want him to come? What did Mirdza tell you?”

Grigoriy shrugs. “Nothing, but her friend Kristiana told me enough.”

“Did she say that he treated Mirdza badly? Because he didn’t. Danils dumped her for being boring. Mirdza’s been too pathetic to date anyone else since then.”

“It’s been a very, very long time,” I say. “And I didn’t refrain from dating because I was upset. I was just so disappointed with men in this area that I gave up.”

“What Danils hasn’t told her yet is that he still wants her,” Martinš says.

“That’s definitely not true,” I say. “Have you been drinking?”

“But it is.” Martinš has pretty much always been drinking. He keeps vodka on his nightstand. Today, though, it seems that’s not his primary problem. “Danils has been waiting for her to grow up a bit and become more interesting, but if you think he’s going to let you show up and marry her?” He snorts. “He was furious when he heard about you.”

“He’s delusional,” I say.

“You’ll see,” Martinš says. “He’s been checking up on her for years, biding his time.”

This is all ridiculous, but at least Grigoriy doesn’t seem to care much. He releases my hand and drags me under his arm. He leans his cheek against the top of my head. “It’s not even my birthday, and yet, things just keep getting more and more fun.”

“This isn’t fun.” I shake him off. “Mom, let’s grab your things and go. We can come back for the rest later.”

“I’ll buy you anything you want,” Grigoriy says. “You don’t really need to bring anything with you.” He glances around the apartment. “It doesn’t look like there’s much worth taking anyway.”

Mom’s finally letting us load her backpack and two duffel bags into the back of the truck when a large Mercedes Benz GLE rolls up. It feels like a movie, because everything feels like it’s dropped into slow motion when Danils opens the door and climbs out.

I’m not one of those girls who’s surrounded by drama. I’m a cripple who can barely keep a job. I live in an apartment provided by the charity of my friend. I’ve pretty much only dated one person in the last twelve years, and he’s practically ignored me ever since we broke up.

This cannot be happening to me.

“Are you alright?” Grigoriy reaches over to take my hand again. He’s either undeterred by my persistent brush-offs, or he’s preparing to blow the house down.

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