Page 22 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

20

MIKHAIL

A ngel won’t even look at me, his body drawn away from mine, his shoulders hunched forward. He’s smiling and seems happy, chatting with his father, Anthony, and his father’s boyfriend, Tatum, but he won’t even meet my gaze.

Something twists inside of me, a tightening of my lungs. Something’s changed and I don’t know what. I’ll have to ask him when I have a chance to breathe, to form my thoughts. I don’t usually get vibes, and refuse to even utter that word, but that’s exactly what it is. Vibes. Bad ones. And I want to ask him about it, but currently, the house is filled with so much commotion that my head is ringing.

Tatum, Anthony’s brat, eyes me suspiciously, and I find myself shifting on my feet.

He seems to know something I don’t. Has Angel spoken to him about me? Has he told him what’s wrong?

I don’t like that. Not at all.

I should know. Angel is my husband.

And don’t even get me started on Casey. He’s hovering around Angel like a fly on shit. I want to put a bullet between that man’s eyes. I would too, if it wouldn’t upset Angel so much. That man is far too protective and much too handsome to be in Angel’s space all the time.

Perhaps they have a connection, something deeper than I could ever give Angel.

I shove that thought away. There’s never been any indication of that. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me at the moment. Everything is all muddled. Besides the bracelet and the dying rose found in the tunnels, there was no indication that anyone was ever there.

Perhaps it is a ghost, Katarina coming back to haunt me. Roses were always her favorite. She often kept them in a vase on the dining table.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.

My gaze swivels over to another bodyguard lingering near Tatum. He’s tall with broad shoulders and strong arms, they nearly break the fabric of his jacket with the strain of keeping them inside. “Teddy, it’s so good to see you,” Angel says softly, pulling the large man into a hug.

Right, I remember him. Tatum’s bodyguard. He doesn’t speak. Ever. And right now is no different. He’s eerily silent, but he sees everything. Almost too much.

And I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now.

“Hello, Mikhail. Nice to see you,” Anthony says, holding out his hand. I shake it and he squeezes roughly, my bones popping. I’ve always known Anthony was not to be messed with and that he adores his sons. If I’ve done something to upset Angel, and he’s told his father, there’s a good chance I’ll end up with a missing tongue.

“And you as well,” I reply, shaking his back just as roughly. Not that he gives any indication I’ve squeezed his hand too tightly. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Honestly, let go of each other’s hands or I’m going to get jealous,” Tatum says and then leans into Anthony, nuzzling up against his chest like a pet. Anthony chuckles and presses a hand to his back, rubbing up slowly and massaging his neck. Tatum arches into the touch and nearly purrs. If only Angel would do that. But he’s currently standing too far away, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes everywhere but me.

What the fuck is going on?

What did I do?

Everything was fine this morning.

“Show me the house, Angel. I want to see everything. Hear about everything .” Tatum says that slyly, linking his arm with Angel’s and pulling him from the foyer without another word. Anthony watches me, and I force my gaze to soften. I won’t have Anthony making assumptions about my marriage to his son from my traitorous eyes. I can remain neutral, hidden. I’m stealthy.

“Your home is…much more colorful than I expected,” Anthony says.

I purse my lips, taking in the bright pink painting hung near the front door. “Your son has been busy.”

Anthony nods as he walks into the kitchen, taking in the wallpapered walls, the colorful flowers sitting on the island, the freshly baked cookies on the counter.

“It’s good he’s happy,” he says, like a threat.

“He is,” I reply, thinking about earlier when we were in bed. The way he moaned my name.

Although, he’s not happy now. He’s upset.

I’ve done something and I can’t think what. Everything was fucking perfect earlier.

It felt that way, but then again, I’ve been wrong before.

I’ve been so fucking wrong.

“Diablo will be arriving within the hour. Just in case you weren’t notified. Thank you for hosting us on such late notice,” Anthony says as he sits down at the island and eyes the drinks sitting on the counter. I fucking need one at the moment. I know what Anthony is doing by showing up almost unannounced .

He’s trying to make sure I’m keeping Angel happy, and we have no time to cultivate marital bliss.

Not that Angel could fake it.

He can’t fake anything.

“Drink?”

“Yes, it’s been a long day of travel,” he says.

As I grab a glass from the cabinet, another man appears. Viktor, if I remember correctly. Anthony’s personal bodyguard. He looks suave, with long legs and broad shoulders. On his hip sits a gun, and I eye it as I pour the liquid into the glass.

“Your bags are all in the rooms. You’re good to go, boss,” Viktor says.

Anthony nods at him and then hands him his glass. “Drink up, Viktor. You need it.”

Viktor glances down at it and then reluctantly takes it.

“What is it?”

“Cognac,” I say.

“Nice, very Russian,” Viktor says, and Anthony smirks.

“A nice whiskey would be preferable, but I think I’ll cope.”

Just as he says that Bane lopes out of the hallway and right into Viktor’s arms.

“Hello, my love. I’ve missed you. Are you wearing those blood-red panties I left for you?”

Viktor’s cheeks blaze, and I cock my head, watching this exchange.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he hisses, but Bane just responds by waggling his eyebrows.

“You know. I want to see.” He pulls on the waistband of Viktor’s pants, but Viktor shoves him away, his drink sloshing onto the floor as he does. Hundreds of dollars wasted , I think as Bane grins at his boss, unbothered by it all.

“Hi there, Tony. Did you miss me?”

I pour him a large glass and push it across the counter.

Anthony takes a sip and replies, “I thought you accidentally offed yourself. It’s good to see you’re still alive. But if you call me Tony again, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

Bane giggles and then sits opposite Anthony, taking his drink from him and gulping it down.

Anthony eyes him and then holds out the glass for another pour.

“I can’t afford this,” I murmur, and Anthony scoffs.

“I know you can, Ivanov. I’ve seen your bank statements, remember?”

I peer over my shoulder at him and nod. I can afford it, I just don’t want to.

“Would you like to see the underground tunnels?” Bane asks no one in particular, squirming in his chair. “There are some passages in the walls as well. I drew you a map.” He pulls a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket and sets it on the counter. “I drew it in crayon. I couldn’t find a pencil.”

“Where the fuck was there a crayon?” I ask, and Viktor lets out a muffled laugh behind his hand.

“In the walls,” Bane says.

I feel my eye twitch, realizing that Bane knows my house better than me. And why the fuck was there a crayon in the walls? I was too old for coloring when my family moved to this house. And I don’t have kids. Never have and, most likely, never will.

My thoughts move to Angel again and how good he’d be with children, before I shake them away.

I can’t focus on him right now, not with everything else going on at the moment. When we’re alone tonight, I’ll speak with him and then flip him over and fuck his brains out. Just on principle.

I pick up the paper and tuck it in my pocket, filing it away for later. I’ll have a long look at it, if I can even decipher it. Chances are Bane is the only one who can read it.

Angel and Tatum make their way back into the kitchen, their faces close together, whispering to one another.

I don’t like this at all.

Tatum’s eyes shoot up at my face and then down to my crotch .

Angel better not be saying anything about my equipment. It’s perfectly fine.

“We’re going out to see my garden,” Angel says, heavy on the my . If only he knew how much I loved that space before she ruined it.

How the one place I found solace in was destroyed and left to rot until he brought it back to life.

Anthony stands up, grabbing his drink as Viktor follows. Bane disappears into the walls once more, or under the floors. I don’t know which. All I know is that when we move outside, he’s not there.

Good riddance.

Angel leads the way with Tatum by his side. He’s leaning into him like he should be leaning against me. But I don’t say anything, allowing it because I don’t want to make a scene. Anthony is talking with Viktor in hushed tones, leaving me to walk with Teddy, the big guy who says absolutely nothing. He even breathes quietly.

So I don’t bother saying anything either.

I just stare at the back of Angel’s head, wondering what’s going on.

He still hasn’t looked at me, but he sure looks happy to see the new hippie gardener. Jake, I think his name is. When Angel was still talking to me, he told me all about him. Apparently, Jake feels the energy of plants.

Sounds like horseshit to me.

Angel reaches out and taps him on the shoulder, and Jake stands up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. Some of his hair falls from the bun on top of his head and he swipes at it, smearing dirt across his cheek in the process. Not that he seems to care. His grin widens when he takes in Angel, and he pulls him in for a hug.

I don’t like this guy. He smiles too much. And is far too touchy.

He shouldn’t be hugging my husband.

“Jake, this is my dad and Tatum.” He waves his hand toward Teddy and Viktor and adds, “And their bodyguards.”

He is trying to sign and speak at the same time, and takes far too long to do some movements with his fingers, but fuck, it’s impressive. Since when has he been learning this language? I don’t know my husband at all.

Jake is patient through it all, nodding and signing as he speaks, “Nice to meet you,” before looking at Teddy, his grin widening. Teddy blushes and shuffles on his feet, his ears turning the color of an apple. What the fuck is going on?

“Nice to meet you too,” Jake says, and Teddy replies in sign language—a long string of words from what I can tell—and then he blushes even deeper as his hands fall to his sides.

“Oh my god,” Tatum cries out, and Teddy is now beet red. “I didn’t know you knew sign language!”

“Me either,” Angel says and then nudges Teddy, touching him more than he has me all day. “I didn’t know you signed.”

Teddy glances from Jake to Angel and then Tatum before shrugging and focusing his gaze back on the horizon. But Jake doesn’t look away, obviously excited someone can communicate with him in his language.

I get that.

It’s always nice to be able to speak to someone in Russian. It’s a camaraderie of sorts.

As everyone follows Angel around the garden, I stand silently, watching him. Everything is alive and colorful, just like the house he redecorated. There are even rose bushes and two raised planters with fresh vegetables sprouting.

My grandmother would love this place.

I fucking love it too.

Fuck Angel for making me want this again and then not even looking at me all day.

What have I done? What the fuck have I done wrong?

Angel drags Tatum and Anthony into the greenhouse, and as soon as I enter, I hold my breath for fear of making any kind of discernable noise. Because there are the pots I ordered him, filled with budding plants; one boasting a gigantic tomato plant and another with some kind of exotic plant with pink blooms. I have no idea how he’s managed to get it all to grow like this in such a short time, but he has.

Angel seems to be possessed by a magic of some sort.

Anything is possible. I don’t know anything anymore.

“This is amazing,” Tatum says, his fingers trailing over every petal and leaf he can touch. Angel looks pleased, so fucking proud, and my chest swells as I watch him.

He’s done something tremendous here. Even my grandmother couldn’t do this. She toiled over it too with not nearly as much success. And yet Angel has managed it.

He’s managed so fucking much.

“He has quite the green thumb, no?” Anthony asks, and I nod, tearing my gaze away from his son and forcing my face to remain impassive.

“He does.”

“He puts his heart into it. As he does with all things he cares about. I hope you’ve noticed this.”

I swallow. “I have.”

But have I really? Have I noticed how much care he’s given me? I shove my hands in my pockets and watch as Angel and Tatum chat happily. When we finally leave the greenhouse, my bodyguards are waiting for him, smoke billowing around them. Like eager pups waiting for their mother.

“Little husband,” Felix shouts, almost sounding relieved at his appearance.

I narrow my gaze at him, but he ignores me.

What the fuck is going on? When did I lose their loyalty and when was it given to Angel? Though, I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Were you waiting for me? I’m sorry, I have guests,” Angel says and then blushes, introducing everyone to his father and Tatum. He even introduces Teddy, who does fuck all but nod.

“Anyways, don’t worry, I’m making dinner in a minute and Tatum is going to help?— ”

“Oh god, ask Teddy to cook. He’s much better than me in the kitchen.”

Teddy blushes again, and I narrow my eyes at the broad-shouldered man. He needs to stop fucking turning pink anytime anyone compliments him. It makes him look weak.

“Yes, you can help, Teddy-bear,” Angel says, linking an arm through his and leading everyone forward. And everyone follows my husband, the pied piper. And don’t think I don’t notice how they stub out their cigarettes before entering as well.

Not that they ever gave me that courtesy.

Anthony chuckles as we walk behind them all, and I glower at him.

“Seems you’ve lost control of the ship.”

“Seems you have too.”

He shrugs and then straightens his jacket. “It’s better when you just accept it. Life is much easier when you do.”

“I’m no fool.”

Anthony cocks an eyebrow at me. “That’s yet to be seen.”

And then he walks into the house, leaving me trailing after everyone else. I’m the last in my own home, the forgotten crumb in the corner of the floor.

The house is rowdy and overwhelming. Even Ivan makes his way out of his smelly hole to socialize. Or to eat the food being made. Like a sewer rat.

And the entire time he cooks, Angel ignores me.

Continues to not even look my way.

If a stranger walked into this house, they wouldn’t even know we were married. They’d assume I was a mere servant in the presence of a prince.

The thought makes my mood sour even more.

By the time his brother, Diablo, and his husband, Skylar, show up, I’m pushed to the far side of the kitchen, drinking straight from the bottle of cognac. No one seems to notice me anyways. I can drink straight from the container if I want to .

“Hello, Mikhail,” a bratty voice says to my right, and I glance down and see Angel’s brother, Diablo, all dark hair with fire in his eyes grinning up at me.

“Go away.”

Diablo’s smile falls into a sneer. “No. Angel seems upset. Why is that?”

I scoff, the liquid in my stomach sloshing around violently. But I’m a man, a Russian man. I can hold my liquor.

“He’s always upset with me. I do nothing right.”

“Hmm, I don’t doubt that,” he says, pulling a small handsaw from the pocket of his sweatshirt and staring at it. A moment later, he starts to file his nails with it, and I watch raptly. That can’t be good for his cuticles. “But you see, my brother loves everyone. Even when they don’t deserve it. And being his twin, I can see that he’s sad. Can feel it. We shared a womb.”

“No shit,” I say dryly.

He leans a little closer to me and that saw pokes me in the ribs. “You’re not funny, Russian mob man. And I have more of these. Packed them just in case, just for you. Do you want to lose your toes? Because I will have Skylar hold you down and I’ll cut them off. Slowly.”

I watch him before taking another swig of alcohol, my mind reeling.

“I dare you to try. You’re small. I could squish you like a bug.”

“Challenge accepted,” he replies and then twists that saw in a little deeper, sending pain right through my chest. Damn kid stabbed me. How is that possible? A fucking saw doesn’t do that.

He must have had some sort of hidden knife built into it.

I stare down at my shirt and see blood pooling through the fabric. Shit.

I press against it and feel myself listing slightly to the right before over-correcting and falling into Gael. He catches me and grins, noting the bottle in my hand.

“You need to eat, boss. ”

I huff, trying to stem the bleeding from my stab wound. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”

Gael pulls me through the crowd and forces Felix from his seat, hefting me into the chair.

“Boss needs to eat before he passes out.”

“And bleeds to death,” I slur, glancing down at the blood still seeping through my shirt. It’s the first time Angel has looked at me all evening.

And there’s a flicker of concern before he shrugs it away. He’d probably rather I was dead.

“It’s just a cut. Mikhail is a baby,” Diablo says.

“I am no baby,” I say, standing up, the chair crashing backward. I rip my shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, showing off my bleeding chest. Angel bites his bottom lip as his gaze travels down my abdomen.

“Your brother did this! Doesn’t anyone care?” I point at it, and my husband’s eyes move to his brother.

“He deserved it,” Diablo replies, and Angel nods, unconcerned by my imminent death.

“Gael, Felix, do you mind patching him up? I don’t want dinner to burn.”

“You’re my husband!” I nearly roar, but I go ignored, shuffled out of the room by the two men, Nina trailing after me and tutting at me like I’m a child.

Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I need to be coddled instead of ignored.

“Do not make those sounds at me, Nina. I’m the man of the house.”

She rolls her eyes at me, grabbing some sterilizing wipes and a bandage.

“You are not behaving like one,” she replies and then cleans my wound, making me hiss. “If you cry, I will send you to Georgiy and he will show you what a real wound is.”

I purse my lips and hold it in .

I’m a man. The manliest. I am Russian. I am the Russian-est.

“Stop this,” Nina says and then tosses me a shirt. It lands on the top of my head and I peel it down, covering myself with the itchy fabric before Gael and Felix snicker and help me back down to the kitchen. Not that I need it. I can walk fine on my own.

I’m just having a hard time balancing correctly. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m drunk or bleeding to death.

By the time we make it back to where everyone is, dinner is served.

And of course, I’m given my plate last.

A pity dinner. I eat it all anyways, proud of my husband for making such authentic Russian dishes with no training, and hating that he’s not looked my way again. I’m unsure in my drunken state if I should be happy or sad. Or perhaps both. But by the time I sober up, I’m realizing that I’ve made an ass of myself and am more angry than anything.

Angry that it’s bedtime and Angel is nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” I grump as I pace the room, waiting for him to appear. But of course he doesn’t. He always makes me fucking wait.

He makes me fucking rage.

By the time I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, he’s still not in bed, and yet there it sits. A picture of her on my pillow.

I pick it up, the offensive image of Katarina glaring back at me.

My chest tightens and I press against my frantically beating heart.

I crumple it in my hand, tossing it onto the floor where it belongs.

“Blyad!” I shout and then send my fist through the wall. I don’t know how he found this or what he’s thinking, but none of it’s good.

None of it.