Page 14 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

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MIKHAIL

I spend far too much time watching Angel, the way he moves, the way he speaks. I can’t avoid him. He’s everywhere. In the house, in the garden, meandering down the halls. I finally close my office door, sitting facing away from the door, but I can still hear him. Chatting, laughing.

I push earphones in my ears, turning up the white noise, and pull up the spreadsheets that Ivan sent me, my eyes blurring as I make out the numbers on the screen.

I don’t know what any of this means. He knows this and insisted I look at it anyways. He’s even color-coded it in the worst fucking colors, colors that make my head throb. I rub at my dry eyes and blink at the screen, irritated when I can hear Angel laughing through the noise blaring in my ears.

My mind immediately jumps to last night, how he felt on top of me, the way he looked, his head thrown back, his skin pink…

The way he moaned when he came.

I scrub at my face and look back at the numbers, trying to figure out how the hell Ivan organized this. Leaning forward, I try to track what he’s done when I hear the pane of glass on the window rattle.

I turn toward it and see Angel’s back pressed up against it, his legs and arms wrapped around Gael.

I feel my eye twitch, something that started as soon as Angel began destroying the peace and making a nuisance of himself.

And here he is, making this spreadsheet even harder to focus on.

I lean closer, trying to ignore them, but they bang against the pane, Angel squealing in delight.

My knuckles crack and I stand up quickly, pulling the earbuds from my ears and throwing them onto my desk.

I stomp from the room, Nina in the kitchen, eyes narrowing when I walk by.

“Be kind to him, Mikhail.”

I growl at her, but she just ignores me. The front door slams open, and I stomp down the steps, moving to the side of the house where Angel and my men are. They should be working. I am not paying them to flirt with my husband.

“See, I told you I’m heavier than I look,” Angel giggles.

“Gael,” I nearly shout, making both of them turn to look at me.

His hands slip off Angel, and my husband’s feet hit the ground.

“Hello, boss.”

“You should be working,” I seethe.

“He is, we were just taking a break, goofing around—” Angel says, but I silence him with a slice of my hand through the air.

“The guardhouse, now.”

Gael looks ashamed. He should be. He should not be touching what’s mine.

“Mikhail,” Angel hisses, but I ignore him, feeling my blood pressure rise.

As soon as Gael slinks past me, out of earshot, I turn toward my angelic devil.

“Don’t break the contract. ”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.

I take a step closer to him and he takes a step back, an odd sort of dance, until he leans down and grabs something from a nearby plant, chucking it at me.

A ball of dirt rolls from my shirt onto my shoe, and I stare down at it.

“Angel,” I growl and his eyes grow wide, his cheeks darkening.

“If you come at me, I’ll do it again.”

He leans down, trying to grab something else, but I rush him, pulling him into my arms and squishing him to my chest.

He wiggles against me, succeeding in only making my cock perk up.

Last night was… I shake those thoughts away.

I can’t think of that.

“Get off me,” he hisses, wiggling furiously, like a beautiful butterfly trapped in a predator’s jaw. “I said, no touching.”

“Only no touching when we fuck.”

It’s a growl, something possessive and ugly rearing its head. I make sure my fingers sprawl across him, touching him as much as I possibly can. And I feel it, the way he pulls away, but then leans into me, almost as if he wants it.

He wanted me at one point.

He did.

That wasn’t a lie.

Angel never lied. Not like me.

“You want this,” I whisper, and that snaps something in him, his body flinging away from mine, trying to claw free. But I grab on to him tighter, not wanting to let go, to make him stay, but before I can get a good grip on him, Casey appears, shoving me backward, his eyes wild.

“Let him go,” he hisses.

I stumble back, feeling the air leave me in a rush. My fingers curl into my palms, my vision whiting out. I push forward, fists flying, my knuckles landing with a crack on Casey’s face. But he doesn’t seem fazed, just hits me right back, nailing me in the stomach and kidney, making me wheeze.

I want to tear him apart. Want to watch him bleed.

Trying to keep what is mine away from me, always in the fucking way.

I wonder if he loves Angel, wants him for himself. Why else would a man leave his home to travel so far to be near another?

He wants him.

Well, he can’t have him.

We grapple, our bodies heaving, and then I hear it, metal landing on bone. Casey grunts and falls back, cradling his head as he wobbles on his feet and then I sense it too, the rush of wind and then the crack of something landing right on the back of my head.

And right before I pass out, I swear I can hear her laughing at me.

A hollow, dead sound.

“Honestly, Ivan,” Angel says as Casey and I sit slumped over the island, ice packs on our heads. The pain has lessened after Angel made us take some pain medication, but it still throbs.

My damn brother.

“Don’t hit people with cast-iron pans. Especially over the head. Especially your brother!” he scolds.

Ivan shifts on his feet and mumbles under his breath, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking contrite. I’ve never seen Angel so angry at someone. Besides me, of course.

He looks pissed right now.

It makes my cock twitch in my pants.

“And what about me?” Casey asks, and Angel coos at him, moving toward him and pressing a hand to his cheek, looking worried all over again.

“You poor baby,” he says, and Casey smirks at me .

I want to cut his lips off.

“And don’t hit my bodyguard either, got it?” Angel tells Ivan, scowling at him. “I mean it, or no more snickerdoodles.”

Ivan frowns. “I did not know who was attacking my brother. All I know was you were in trouble.”

Casey rolls his eyes at Ivan, who only ignores him.

“Well, thank you, but never again, okay? Can’t go around whacking innocent people over the head. What if you had hit Jake?”

This is the first I’ve heard of this person, and I clench my jaw so tightly I hear the joint pop.

“Who’s Jake?”

“My new gardener,” Angel replies dismissively.

“There are protocols to hiring someone.”

“I got it all taken care of. Now, when is George going to be here?” Angel asks, ignoring me completely. “I really think you hit them far too hard. I’m worried they’re concussed.”

Ivan shrugs just as Georgiy appears, walking assuredly into the house. He looks immaculate as always, his eyes sure and astute, his suit and tie perfectly pressed. It’s why I hired him. He’s to the point and no-nonsense. No one would guess what this man does in that house on the far end of the property. The horrors he inflicts there.

“What’s happened?” Georgiy asks, setting a leather bag on the island and opening it. He pulls out a penlight and a stethoscope and turns toward me.

Oh, and did I mention that he was a surgeon years ago, before he started working for me? He never did tell me why he quit. But he gave up his illustrious career and is happy with his current job.

And it makes him quite useful at times like this.

He pulls the ice pack off my head and takes a look at the bump that’s forming there, right beneath my hair. He stays silent when he moves in front of me, making me follow his finger and the penlight. He finishes the exam by pressing the stethoscope to my chest and listening to my heart .

He does the same to Casey, working quickly and quietly until he’s concluded his checkup.

“They’re fine. Ivan isn’t strong enough to hurt anyone.”

Ivan grumbles under his breath as Casey lets out a small laugh.

“Just take it easy—both of you—and continue taking pain medication as needed. Keep the ice on your head, as well.”

He sets his things back in his bag and then washes his hands, all while Angel watches him intently.

But Georgiy doesn’t acknowledge him, just dries his hands and leaves.

“George is so different…Bane would be obsessed with him,” Angel says, and I frown at my husband, remembering Bane, Costello’s psychopath enforcer, the way he fawned all over Angel—and everyone else for that matter. He’s a murderous flirt who needs to be put in his place.

“Georgiy wouldn’t tolerate him,” I reply, and Casey nods, the first time we’re in agreement.

“He would be appalled by Bane’s hygiene practices.”

Angel giggles and then bites it off, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. Right now, he looks rumpled, a little flustered. The perfect pairing.

It reminds me of last night when he fucked himself on my dick, the pretty way his back arched, the globes of his ass flexing as he rode me.

Shoving those thoughts away, I stand up and set the ice pack down. I need some space. I need to do something other than think of Angel.

As I start to move away, Angel pushes away from the counter. “George said to keep the ice pack on.”

“I’m fine,” I reply as I make my way toward my office. But I hear rustling behind me and see Angel following, the ice pack in his hand.

“You need to listen to the doctor,” Angel replies, obviously annoyed.

“I’ve survived worse. ”

He huffs. “You mafia men are the worst, I swear. Just because you’ve been shot or stabbed before, doesn’t mean being whacked in the head by a pan isn’t serious. Honestly.”

“I’ve never been shot.”

He rolls his eyes, and I find my cock twitches at his sassiness. What an odd thing to be attracted to. Jemma was submissive yet enthusiastic in bed. She never made my dick twitch like he does. And Katarina…well, I don’t want to think about her.

My lips turn down as I continue to stalk to my office, trying to close the door on my devilish husband before he can enter, but he sneaks in, that ice pack in his hand, his body set in a stubborn tilt.

“I have shit to do,” I say when I sit down at my desk and roll the chair forward. I pull the spreadsheet open and blink at it, knowing that Angel won’t be able to make heads or tails of it. I can’t even figure it out.

Angel moves up behind me and presses the ice pack to the back of my head.

I tilt away. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t tell me to fuck off,” he replies, pressing the ice against the bump again.

I grit my teeth, realizing that I won’t be able to rid myself of him. This man does what he wants. My dick acknowledges this as well.

Insufferable. Both of them.

I turn my gaze back to the spreadsheet, and Angel is remarkably quiet for several long minutes, the ice numbing the bump on my skull until he makes a small harrumph.

“What?” I ask as I continue to scroll down the spreadsheet, the neon colors making my eyes bleed. I should be more concerned, I really should. This is my family business.

But at the moment, I just want someone else to take care of this for me.

I want someone else to tell me what to do for once.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? ”

I turn toward him and the ice pack falls to his side as he perches on the edge of my desk.

“Someone is taking money from you, from one of the massage parlors. Their numbers have been off over the last several months. They went from giving about 150 massages a day on average to 130. So obviously someone is taking a cut.”

He points to the bright pink column, and I stare at it.

“You got that from this piece of shit?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“Yeah.”

I blink back at the computer and then move to another tab, letting Angel take a look, his soft body pressed far too close to me, the scent of flowers and sun on his skin. I force myself to breathe through my mouth.

“It isn’t happening at the weed dispensaries…but you may want to take a look at the laundromats. Something doesn’t look right there either. Their numbers have been fluctuating a lot more than last year.”

I blink at the screen and huff. Why the hell did he make this so bright?

“I can take a better look at it if you’d like or find someone trustworthy who can.”

I stare at him, his lips so fucking close to mine, and I lean back to give myself some space, a way to inhale anything but him.

“Perhaps.”

That word hangs between us and then Angel slides away from me once more, pressing the ice pack against the back of my head. The sting of it, the ice-cold sensation moves through my skull, down my neck and into my chest, hardening me once more.

I have to remember not to trust anyone. Especially my spouse. Never trust those.

Fool me once…

But Angel seems different. He is different.

My mind moves to a past that I can never escape, one that has etched itself on my heart in blood and thorns .

I thought Katarina was different too and look how that turned out.

“Please, my love…”

I suddenly can’t breathe. With trembling legs, I push away from Angel and stride out of the office, the scent of blood washing over me, the darkness starting to descend.

I need space. I need to fucking breathe alone. In the shadows.

And I can’t do that when his light shines so brightly.