Page 10 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)
8
MIKHAIL
M y husband is becoming quite the problem.
Even more so than the shitty money-laundering businesses I have to deal with. Ivan takes care of our cryptocurrency deals, thank fuck, but I’m still in charge of managing our multitude of small businesses and the new shell companies I acquired in the Costello deal, and it’s a goddamn nightmare.
Right now, I’m brooding in my office while everyone around my house is smiling and laughing. The sound of it makes my head ache. I turn my gaze out to the trees that aid in hiding the garden from my view and realize that my husband is determined to put it back together, to make it alive once more. I rub at my temples, thinking of how much I want it to stay dead and destroyed.
My dick twitches when I think of the way Angel drove Jemma away. She’s been a reliable, easy fuck for the past year but refuses to put up with any bullshit. This means I’ll have to find someone to replace her. She won’t be back. She told me that any sign of trouble, any drama, and we’d be done .
Angelo Costello.
He’s the drama. He’s the problem.
I run a hand down my face and stare at the ugly gold wall in my office and feel my lips turn down in a frown.
My husband is turning out to be a menace.
He fooled me with his sweet smile and those pretty blushes.
I lean back in my chair, the squeak of leather penetrating the silence, and pick up my phone, placing an order for gray paint and a few rollers to be delivered to the house later today. I’ll fix this damn wall, put it back to the way it was. I’ll make this place my home once more, despite him doing everything he can to ruin it.
I can’t catch a fucking break.
Between the missing money Ivan detected this weekend that we need to track down to my house turning into a cheap version of achild’s drawing, I’m about ready to murder someone.
Perhaps Georgiy can scrounge up someone particularly evil for me to take a turn with.
Although, that sounds so fucking exhausting.
Maybe I should just cut my losses and let it all fall apart.
Maybe I should walk away from it all and let it burn.
Something moves past my office window in my periphery, and I turn toward it. Through the glare of the afternoon sun, I see a figure at the far end of the property.
A vision in white, red lining the neck.
I scrub at my tired eyes, blinking back outside, feeling like I’m losing my fucking mind.
It’s gone. The ghost dispelled along with my sanity.
I need to check the cameras to make sure no one is really lurking about.
Just as I think that, my phone rings. I glance down and see my longtime friend’s—the one who runs my laundering businesses—name flash across my screen.
“Hello, old friend,” I say, some of my paranoia dissipating as I speak with him. Daniil’s been with me since college—a-tried-and-true friend. “How are things?”
“Good, was just calling to check in and see how marriage is treating you.”
I rub at my eyes. “As well as can be expected.”
Daniil lets out a laugh. “Ah, yes, is he giving you trouble?”
“No more than a husband will.”
Daniil huffs a laugh and we talk business—mostly in Russian and using cryptic terms that wouldn’t get either of us in trouble if someone were listening in on us—before saying goodbye.
The phone sits on my desk as I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling and trying to gather my bearings, when a thump from the hallway has me sitting up and glancing at the door.
What the hell is that?
Another thump, a crash, and a giggle.
Angel. My little devil.
I know the sounds he makes, they’re etched in my brain.
Seemingly so innocent, so lovely, when in reality he’s a fucking devil in disguise.
Fool me once…
I stand up and pull the door open, glancing down the hallway and seeing that bodyguard of his, Casey, helping Angel drag the mattress from the guest room.
It barely resembles a mattress anymore. It’s torn to pieces, bits of foam hanging from the shredded fabric, and a spring scrapes against the wall as they attempt to drag it down the hallway.
“Not the new paint!” Nina hisses, and I nearly growl.
Nina, the woman who practically raised me, the one who wielded the cane and never spoiled the child, is on his side. How he managed that is beyond comprehension.
I feel my teeth clench, nearly cracking as I move toward them.
“What are you doing?” I bite out.
“Oh hello, husband . There was a bit of an accident,” Angel says, looking far too sweet .
“An accident that ripped the mattress to shreds?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“Oops.” He smiles at me and then gets back to work, ignoring me completely.
“You’re in the way,” Nina says as she pushes me to the side, and I’m left to watch as the three of them bring the mattress toward the front door. I have no idea what they plan on doing with it, but I’m fucking intrigued.
Does he think this will deter me? Does he think people only fuck on beds? He’s a na?ve virgin…well, not anymore.
My cock twitches in my pants, and I run a hand across the back of my neck.
The way he felt…
I push those thoughts away, refusing to be lured into something detrimental because of a tight, eager hole.
I’ve been there. Done that.
Never again.
The front door opens, and I hear the three of them maneuver the mattress outside, so I walk toward the guest room, the place where I took my husband for the first time. But when I step inside, my nostrils flare as I take in the destruction all around me.
There are holes in all the walls, the carpet is torn up, and the bedframe is hacked to pieces. How I didn’t hear this is beyond me, but I was distracted by Ivan and his constant blathering about his findings in the bank accounts.
“Fuck,” I murmur as a huff of laughter erupts from me, but I swallow it down, an odd feeling forming inside of me. I haven’t laughed in years.
She broke something inside of me.
“Don’t do this, please. Please, Mikhail.”
I push the sound of her pleas as I slit her throat from my mind and shut the door with a snick, letting this room rest for now.
I don’t need to fuck to survive. It’s more of a biological compulsion than anything .
My mind moves to my husband, and I wet my lips.
Perhaps if I’m hungry enough, I’ll taste him again.