39. Gleb

Taking a deep, calming breath, I release it slowly before slipping out from behind the steering wheel of the rented dark-blue sedan, button my fresh suit jacket, and climb the front steps of Pyotr and Silvia's Brooklyn home for the second time today.

It feels odd to be driving around the family-friendly car rather than my Triumph Daytona, but we'll need the car seat to take Gabby home after we go to the courthouse. My nerves tingle just thinking about it.

Marrying Mel.

"You clean up nice," Pyotr states as soon as I step through the front door.

He's already dressed in a suit and tie, and it would seem he's been put in charge of the two toddlers, who are both dressed in miniature-sized formal wear.

"You too." I nod toward Gabby. "Where'd that dress come from?"

"It's one of Isla's old ones. Silvia insisted on keeping her favorites in case we have another girl."

My lips twitch at the subtle twinkle in his eye at the idea. "You planning on having another?"

"I wouldn't say planning, but it's not entirely out of the range of possibilities, I suppose."

"Where are Silvia and Mel?" I ask.

"Still getting ready. Silvia insisted on finding something in her closet that's suitable for the occasion." Pyotr shakes his head, an indulgent smile curling his lips. Then, his sharp gaze focuses more closely on me. "You ready for this?"

Swallowing the tidal wave of emotions that surges through me, I nod.

I'm as ready as I'll ever be for this kind of wedding.

Still, anticipation wars with my self-disgust, as it has been since I left Mel and Gabby in the capable hands of the Veles family so I could go shower and put on a suit—a formality Silvia insisted upon if we were going to do this on such short notice.

But I can't get the conflicting emotions under control.

It feels like Pyotr is handing me everything I've ever wanted—the woman I desire, safe and living under my roof, and now ready to be my wife. Only Mel doesn't want me. She's doing this to save herself and her daughter.

And that makes me feel all the more selfish and sadistic—if not masochistic—for wanting this.

Because I'm agonizingly torn between the urge to count my blessings and take advantage of the situation or be the gentleman Mel deserves in her life—giving her the space she so clearly yearns for.

Even if it hurts, I can't blame her. Men have only ever used her for their own ends. So, looking at this like a true marriage would make me just as bad as the rest of them—when she's made it clear she doesn't want me in her life. Not like that.

"You boys ready to see the bride?" Silvia quips, excitement brimming in her tone as she quickly descends the steps.

Pyotr stands from his crouch next to Gabby, and we both watch as Silvia gestures for Mel to come down.

My heart skips several beats as her feet appear, clad in ivory pumps that come to a sharp point. The tea-length dress that follows is the same shade of ivory, with gauzy layers of skirt embroidered with lace.

It sinches tightly around Mel's trim waist before the lace completely covers the heart-shaped bodice. The fabric leaves her collarbones on full display, but the near-transparent lace embroidered sleeves extend all the way down to her wrists.

"It's what I wore to Nicolai's baptism, but I think it works quite well, don't you?" Silvia asks as she joins us to watch Mel continue down the stairs.

If words could describe how stunning Mel looks, "quite well" would not be in the mix. Her hair is piled high on her head, with soft curls cascading down around her face. Her makeup is subtle but calls attention to the striking tear-drop shape of her eyes and her thick lashes.

Her full lips are painted a rich ruby that makes them dangerously more kissable, and when she traps her bottom lip nervously between her white teeth, it takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to groan.

"You look beautiful, Mel," Pyotr states beside me, urging me to come out of my mute state.

But my tongue feels like it's been tied in knots.

"You like it?" Her lips break into a stunning smile as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and gives us a twirl, revealing the keyhole back that leaves everything from her sharp shoulder blades down to her waist on full display. And when she turns to face us once more, her eyes land on me.

She's asking me if I like the dress.

"It's perfect," I state, locking onto a measured tone to avoid my voice from breaking.

"Thanks." Mel's smile turns nervous once more, and her eyes shift to Silvia.

"Shall we?" Pyotr says.

"Yeah, of course." Mel steps forward and scoops Gabby up from the ground along with the stuffed lion she was playing with.

The little girl, wearing a baby-pink tulle dress, looks halfway between a ballerina and a miniature version of her mother. Together, the pair are so devastatingly beautiful it punches a hole right through my chest.

Not mine. Not really.

I need to keep reminding myself of that to ensure I don't lose sight of the truth.

Wrestling the surge of frustrated longing back under my iron control, I stalk toward the front door. I open it and step back so the girls can lead the way to the black Escalade already waiting for us at the curb—one of the several in Pyotr's fleet that looks identical to the one I totaled.

It's a short trip to the courthouse, thankfully, because we barely make it before they close. And the girl there only hesitates a moment before agreeing to squeeze us in before her day is done.

"Thank you so much," Silvia gushes after having pleaded our case for us about how we went through so much to get here.

"It's no problem," the girl says, warming under Silvia's irresistible charm. "So, this is the paperwork you need to fill out," she says, turning her attention to me and Mel.

Silvia takes Gabby from Mel, so she'll have her hands free to fill it out. Several papers pass between us as we write down our personal information and sign.

"Great. I'll just be a moment," the girl behind the counter says, collecting the last of the papers. She shuffles them into a neat stack and disappears into the back.

"We may need to get you to a church as well… just to make sure it's sanctified in the Kellys' eyes," Pyotr states, chewing his lip.

"Really?" Mel asks, seeming less comfortable by the second. Her eyes cast to me, but only for a moment. "It's not like they'll be able to prove that we didn't go, right?"

Pyotr shrugs. "All I know is they're an old-school kind of Catholic that doesn't deal in divorces, so it wouldn't hurt when your safety's on the line."

"I'm sure we can find a pastor who will bless the marriage—though probably not a Catholic priest," Silvia assures Mel. "Nothing big. Probably don't even have to do a full ceremony if you don't want to."

Again, a tentative glance, and this time, I keep my lips sealed because this might be where Mel draws the line. Who knows how religious she might have gotten since going to work for the Kellys, and if she's hoping this is temporary, I can see why she wouldn't want to make that kind of promise in front of god. Just because I don't believe in him doesn't mean I'm willing to compromise her beliefs on the matter.

"Okay," Mel murmurs after a moment.

"Alright, it looks like the paperwork is all in order," the clerk says brightly, returning to break the awkward moment. "We just need a few last signatures on the license. That will be you, Mr. Lycaon, and Miss O'Mara, as well as your two witnesses. Then we're all set."

"Great." Mel turns quickly to sign where indicated.

I do the same, noting her looping cursive scrawl and how it fits her bold personality. Then I slide the paper toward Silvia, and she offers me Gabby without even seeming to think about it.

Taking the little girl in my arms, I try to ignore the warmth that trickles through my veins, the feeling that I'm holding something entirely too precious—priceless, really. The trust Mel's daughter gives me without hesitation fills me with a powerful protective instinct.

I can't quite make out the meaning of Mel's expression when she looks at us. But when I offer to pass her Gabby, the little girl makes no move to release her grip on my tie.

"You hold onto her for a bit… if you don't mind," Mel says, her voice quavering slightly.

The sound makes me wonder if she might not be upset enough about getting married that she needs a minute to pull herself together.

Swallowing hard, I focus my attention on Gabby, who's watching the proceeds with silent fascination. Her tiny hand that rests behind my shoulder pats me gently, as if to bring me comfort, and it makes the knot in my throat that much harder to breathe around.

Why this little girl affects me so much, I'm not entirely sure. I think it's because she represents so much in my mind—the sweet innocence Mel probably had as a child before too many men ripped it from her, the genuine trust I fruitlessly wish Mel might show me, and the possibility of a future I know I'll never have with her.

My thoughts are taking a very dangerous turn, and I clear my throat as I force my eyes back to the paperwork.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Lycaon," the clerk says, passing us the marriage certificate. "By the power granted to the great state of New York, you're officially married."

"Thank you," Mel says breathlessly, accepting the papers.

The church ceremony takes even less time as Pyotr calls up one of his father's old friends—the same man who married him and Silvia—who agrees to meet with us for a private blessing with just the seven of us in attendance.

And by the time the entire production is done, I feel the last dregs of my anticipation shifting to remorse because Mel looks so riddled with guilt, I think she might just spontaneously combust.

Maybe I shouldn't have suggested we go to Pyotr for advice.

Maybe I should have put my foot down and said we wouldn't be getting married.

I knew better than to hope Mel did this for any other reason than to protect Gabby. So, was I just taking advantage of the situation?

"Congratulations, you two love birds," Pyotr says with a cheeky smile, clapping our shoulders as we head down the church steps back to the car.

"Thank you for today," Mel says. "I can't believe you dropped everything for this."

"Are you kidding? We wouldn't miss it," Silvia says warmly.

"Exactly," Pyotr states, his eyes twinkling. "And now, I think it's time we celebrate your successful escape from the clutches of Vincent Kelly with a nice dinner. My treat."

"You're too good to me," Mel murmurs.

But she doesn't object as Silvia brings her in for a warm side hug. Which means we're actually going to spend the evening celebrating as if this were an actual marriage. However, I know the right thing to do will be to let Mel out of it as soon as the danger has passed.

Tortured by my inner conflict, I steel myself for a night of revelry, though it feels like the knife in my gut just won't stop twisting.