by Diana Ames
***
“I screwed everything up, Wally,” Damian said. He’d been in her apartment for the last hour, castigating himself and drinking.
“It’s not completely your fault,” Wally told him. “Yes, you screwed up. I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell her where you were going yesterday. You shouldn’t have jumped to such asinine conclusions this morning about her and Anton.” Wally shook her head at him. “But, honestly, Damian, she should have taken a freaking minute to hear you out.”
“She heard me say I never wanted or needed a wife and family, Wally.” Damian groaned. “Why did she choose that moment to come back into the room? Why did I choose those words? Why, why, why?” He threw his shot glass into the fireplace, causing a slight flare in the low flame.
“Because, Damian, she’s still basically that same innocent girl you met a year ago, and she just had two babies. She’s insecure. You’re sophisticated and worldly. You’ve been with dozens of women, and you could have any woman you wanted. She’s hormonal and emotional, and she doesn’t feel like she measures up to your standards,” Wally told him.
“What am I going to do? I feel like my life is over,” Damian said, letting his head fall back against the cushions of the sofa.
Wally stood in front of Damian until he looked up at her. “My advice,” she said, “don’t wait and let this fester. Go make that girl listen.”
“You weren’t there, Wally,” Damian said. “She doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t blame her. Even if I barged into the apartment and tied her up, she would never listen to me.”
“Well, if you really feel that way, which I think is stupid, then give her time. Court her. Win her back the right way. The two of you rushed into this relationship like the world was about to end, so now, go slowly and woo her.”
“Court her,” Damian muttered. “That might work. I’ll show her how much I love her and can’t live without her.” His mind was working fast as he thought out loud, “A grand gesture, something big, something she would never expect but would mean the world to her.”
Damian was so busy planning how best to sweep Mellissandra off her feet that he didn’t even notice when Wally had left the apartment.
***
Alondra was sitting in Stephen’s office after three grueling hours with the inmates. She’d gotten a lot of great information, and if she were really doing the article she’d told them about, she’d have half of it written already.
The single remaining woman in the room had murdered her husband almost fifteen years ago, but she’d done it because she found out he was raping their daughter nightly. Colania had no room in its laws for justifiable homicide or crimes of passion, and she’d been sent to prison. She hadn’t seen any of her children in the fifteen years she’d been locked up.
One of the men had been convicted of three counts of rape and sodomy. Apparently, homosexuality had been even more frowned upon in this country than in the States, and he’d violently acted out his sexual urges, blaming his victims. The change in the sex laws had definitely come too late to save that man.
Six different people, six different crimes, and six different motives, but they’d all ended the same way—six people locked up and cut off from society for the rest of their lives. It seemed extreme to Alondra, but their system did seem to work. They’d only had three new convictions in the past two years, and that had to count for something.
But that wasn’t the story she’d come here for, and Alondra was determined more than ever to speak with Gillian Portsmith. If she was being railroaded, as Alondra suspected, then something had to be done. Being locked up for committing a murder in the heat of the moment was a far cry from being locked up for being a nuisance to the prince.
“I spoke with Gillian,” Stephen said, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “She has agreed to speak with you, and even though it’s against my better judgment, I will allow it. I just want you to realize that she is still extremely delusional, and she has just begun to make progress into sanity.”
“I understand that,” Alondra told him passively while cheering on the inside. “With her being the most recent to come to the prison, I just feel that she would have something to offer that the others did not. With the others, this has become their home, and as such, their view will be different from someone who still sees it as a prison.”
“She’s being escorted to this office now,” Stephen said. “She will be shackled to a chair so that she cannot—”
“Is that really necessary?” Alondra snapped, interrupting him.
“Yes. She did murder two people last year,” Stephen said impatiently.
“Sorry,” Alondra said contritely.
Stephen shrugged and moved to the door to answer the knock. Alondra watched as a tiny woman in a gray jumpsuit with wrist and ankle shackles hobbled into the room. Alondra was rocked by the idea that the diminutive woman in front of her could have killed two people in cold blood. She didn’t look big enough to hold down a sick dog, let alone commit the heinous crime she’d been accused of. The two guards with her sat her in a chair in the center of the room and secured her shackles to its legs and arms.
“We’ll just leave you two alone to talk,” Stephen said warily. “Alondra, if you need anything, the guards will be outside the door. Just knock or yell, and they will come right in.”
Alondra watched the door close behind Stephen and the guards before she turned around to face the woman chained to the chair. Alondra grabbed her tape recorder and put a new tape in before pulling a chair to sit across from Gillian.
“Gillian—may I call you Gillian?” Alondra asked, switching on the tape recorder.
“Gilly,” she responded. “I’ve been Gilly all my life—until this place.”
“Tell me about how you got here, Gilly,” Alondra said in a warm but stiff tone. She kept reminding herself to remain professional.
“I’m not crazy,” Gilly said softly. “They want to say I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’m here because it was more convenient for a certain person to get rid of me than to deal with the consequences of his actions.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Alondra said, leaning forward. “I’d like to hear your story.”
“I was having an affair with Prince Anton,” Gilly began.
For the next forty-five minutes, she filled Alondra’s ears and tape recorder with the wildest story she’d ever heard.
“So, you’ve been covering for his depravity since you were children?” Alondra asked.
“It wasn’t depravity,” Gilly defended Anton. “It was a coping mechanism. But I guess it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”
“What about the people they say you’ve murdered?” Alondra asked.
“The man they accused me of beating to death was over six foot tall,” Gilly said. “I happened to go out through a garage the same evening he was murdered, and suddenly, I must have done it. I’m barely five foot. I performed his autopsy. There is no way someone of my size could do that kind of damage. As for the other person, I have no idea why they decided to say I murdered her. She died from a bad heart, natural causes.”
“So, why are you here? Why were these murders pinned on you?” Alondra asked.
“I am unable to have children,” Gilly told her. “A medical problem in my teen years led to a partial hysterectomy. My father had my eggs harvested before the surgery so that I could hold my own child in my arms someday.” Gilly sniffled as a tear slid down her cheek.
“After Anton and I found and impregnated a surrogate mother, Damian Bellaro revealed to Anton that my father was really his father. Without any tests to back up what Damian had told him, Anton decided the fetus should be aborted. I refused. The next thing I knew, I ended up in here after being accused of murdering two people.”
“And the baby?” Alondra asked.
“Babies,” Gilly said. “Through the grapevine, I have heard that Damian is now married with twins. He wasn’t married or
even in a relationship when I was tossed in prison. In my heart, I know those are my children.”
Alondra turned off the tape recorder and leaned in close to Gilly. “I believe you, and I’m going to find a way to prove your innocence.”
CHAPTER 9
Anton sat at the bar of Damian’s club with an untouched scotch in front of him and his back to the orgy floor show. Since everything had happened with Gilly, he would feel so uncomfortable in his apartment and office that he often found himself sitting at this bar, trying to avoid his thoughts. He rarely succeeded though.
He hadn’t had an erection in months, probably since the babies were born. Something about the woman he loved suffering and in pain while giving birth and then seeing her as a mother figure had killed every bit of his lust.
Now, everyone left him alone here at the bar. However, the first few times he’d sat here, he had been approached by more than one woman hoping to fuck a prince. It had surprised him. Even with his reputation and what he’d done in this very room, women still wanted him. It disgusted him as well and made him wonder if a woman would ever want him for himself and not his title.
Mellissandra would have wanted him for himself, if she had been given a chance to love him. She could have made him a better man, too. He was sure of it. Just being around her caused him to bury his need to dominate. He blamed himself for allowing her to come into contact with Damian first. Anton knew if it hadn’t been for his twisted need to beat women, Mellissandra and Damian would not have met. Anton refused to believe that he would never have met her.
Anton picked up his drink and examined the amber liquid tinting the diamond pattern cut into the glass. Deciding his mood called for Damian’s method of drinking, he tossed the liquor down his throat and fought the urge to cough. Anton had no idea how Damian could do that. Feeling like he was suffocating from the burn in his esophagus, Anton waved the bartender over to refill his glass.
“You planning on closing us down again?” he asked Anton as he poured.
“Got a problem with that?” Anton snapped and glared at the man.
“Nah, man,” the bartender said. Then, he leaned in close. “Thought you might like to know, we got some fresh meat starting tonight.”
“Not interested.” Anton swallowed the fresh alcohol.
“She’s a virgin, man,” the bartender said, filling the glass again. “Fiancé got killed in a farming accident last year, and she’s given up on love now.” He grinned at Anton. “She’s real ripe. She hasn’t been touched, fucked, or sucked yet.”
Anton met the man’s eyes and gave him a hard look.
The bartender flinched and held up his hands in surrender. “Just letting you in on the know, man,” he said, backing away slightly. “Just passing on the info.”
“When I to be in on the know or if I want info,” Anton sneered at him, “I’ll fucking tell you. Until then, shut your fucking mouth and pour my drinks.”
He went back to staring into his drink and brooding as the bartender shuffled away.
Anton’s thoughts led him around to the situation with Damian and Mellissandra. Part of him was hurting for his brother and sister-in-law. He knew everything was just one big clusterfuck of a misunderstanding, and eventually, they would get this worked out. But the darker, scarier part of him wanted to swoop in and take Mellissandra to be his.
Anton slugged the scotch back again and contemplated the pros and cons of letting them work it out on their own or trying to win her for himself. The struggle reminded him of his beast, and that just made him want to claim Mellissandra for his own all the more.
Anton was in the closet, trying to shut out the noises his mother and that man were making. He used to think she was being hurt, but he was eleven now, and eleven-year-olds knew that those weren’t sounds of pain.
He’d learned that while playing hide-and-seek with Gilly. He’d come across a maid and one of the gardeners in a storage closet. When he’d screamed at the gardener to stop hurting the maid, the man had laughed and said he was making her feel like she was on the moon.
Now that Anton knew just what was going on when his mother would shove him in the closet, he tried hard to block everything out. He used to watch, and when the man left, he would run out and make sure his mother was still alive. Now, he certainly wouldn’t watch, and he wouldn’t leave the closet until his mother yelled for him. It made him angry and sick to his stomach. Anton hated these feelings, and he hated his mother for making him feel them. He hated his mother for being with those men.
As her cries and moans got louder, Anton felt the rage build inside him. He knew they would be done soon, and she would call him to her.
Anton stood up in the closet. Already tall for his age, his head hit the bar filled with clothing. He couldn’t turn the noises off anymore, and as his ears filled with the sounds of his mother’s pleasure, rage overtook him.
Grabbing a dress off a hanger, he ripped it to shreds. Then, he did the same to another and another. When his mother called for him, Anton looked down at the pile of rags that had once been beautiful and expensive articles of clothing, and he smiled. When his mother saw the mess, she’d be just as angry and sickened as he’d been while listening to her fuck some random servant.
***
Alondra sat at Mildred’s kitchen table once again. She was spending another night here, but tomorrow, she was going to have to find a way back to one of the villages close to the castle.
She’d already called her boss and relayed the information that Gillian Portsmith had given her. He’d been more skeptical than Alondra had, but he hadn’t seen the pain in the woman’s eyes or heard the desperation in her voice when she’d talked about her children. He’d also warned Alondra not to get in too deep because if this story were true, getting rid of one pesky American reporter—especially one who had snuck into the country—wouldn’t be more than a minor annoyance for these royals. On a better note, he’d loved the cover story she was using and actually wanted her to write the article on the Colania prison system. He’d felt it would make a great companion piece to the Portsmith scandal.
Alondra was excited about the prospects opening up to her with these stories. She could see national syndication, possibly even international publication, coming her way. She would finally get the recognition she needed to get out of New York and move on to better things in her life.
“So, was it everything you thought it would be?” Mildred asked from behind her, causing Alondra to jump.
“I got so much information today,” Alondra said, turning to smile at Mildred, “that I’m sure the article is going to be fantastic.”
“I’m so glad, dear,” Mildred said, sitting down next to Alondra.
“May I ask why you helped me?”
“Well, to be honest, I didn’t trust you at first. All that makeup and the pointy hair.” Mildred shuddered a little. “But when you insisted I take more money than I was asking for”—she looked away—“I realized I was judging you based on past deeds done by others. I was not giving you a fair shot. I was ashamed of myself and needed to make that right.”
“I didn’t exactly give you a reason to trust me, Mildred,” Alondra said. “You do have a right to be suspicious of people coming into your boarding house. I’m a foreigner, and it’s not like I was very forthcoming about my motives for being here.” Alondra felt a little ashamed of herself for all the lies she’d told this woman and was going to continue to tell this woman.
“I’m renting rooms here, not running an interrogation camp,” Mildred said. “It’s not my business why you’re here. Besides, with our laws and prison sentences, who in their right mind would want to commit a crime here?”
“Good point,” Alondra agreed with a grin. “I have to say, life in prison doesn’t sound appealing.”
“Now that the apologies and explanations are out of the way,” Mildred said, “I’d love to hear all about your exciting life in the big city—that is, if you’ll tell me.”
> “Not much to tell,” Alondra said. “I spend most of my time working. I don’t have any family left and no boyfriend in the picture.”
“A lovely girl like you with no boyfriend? That’s a travesty,” Mildred told her. “You know, Stephen is single—”
“I’m not ready to settle down,” Alondra told her with a smile.
She had hoped Mildred wouldn’t try to play matchmaker. In fact, Alondra hoped she’d never have to see Stephen again. The man, while semi-pleasant to look at, was duller than dirt. She was sure if she had to sit through another meal with him, she’d be locked up for murdering him with his fork.
“So, tell me about your work then,” Mildred said.
“Well, right now, I’m working the story and feature desk, which gives me latitude on what I write,” Alondra told her. “Someday soon, I’m hoping to be able to move to Washington and report from the U.N. In fact, if this article gets the kind of attention I think it will, it would be just what I need on my resume to land my dream job.”
“That sounds awfully ambitious, dear,” Mildred told her, patting her hand. “I hope you achieve all your dreams. But what about family, love, and children? Surely, your parents want some grandchildren to spoil?”
Alondra stiffened and fought the urge to tell the old woman to mind her own damn business. “My parents are dead,” she said tonelessly. Rising to her feet quickly, Alondra tried to smile at Mildred. “I think I’m going to head up to my room now. I want to get some work done on my article this evening.”
“Of course,” Mildred said softly. “James should be coming through first thing in the morning, and I’m sure he’ll give you a ride to the next village if you’re sure you’re ready to move on.”
“Thank you,” Alondra told her, “for everything.” Then, she fled the kitchen for the privacy of her rented bedroom.
Alondra wasn’t able to concentrate on her article after leaving Mildred in the kitchen. Even the briefest thought of her parents caused her heart to thump with pain. She’d managed to avoid thinking of them up to this point even though she knew it was inevitable. She was writing an article on a corrupt royal, so her thoughts would eventually turn to her own corrupt royal father who’d gotten away with murdering her mother.
