Page 23 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

21

ANGEL

I ’ve gotten angrier the longer I sit with it, the longer I hold it in. By the time day seeps into night, I’m in a full-on rage. I want to burn the entire house to the ground, not that I will. But Mikhail. My husband. A liar. The worst of the worst. I want to burn him.

I want him to feel the pain I feel.

I want him to cry with it.

Maybe I’ll let Diablo cut off his toes. Maybe his ears. And then let my father loose on his tongue.

Maybe then he’ll apologize for tricking me, for never loving me.

For ruining me.

“Where is he?” Mikhail bellows, stomping around the first floor of the house. His shouts echo loudly through the hallways, and I wince. Thankfully my dad and Tatum, as well as Diablo and Skylar, are sequestered in their bedrooms upstairs while I’m hiding downstairs, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day, but unable to drag myself up to our bedroom .

I don’t want to see him.

I despise him.

I can’t believe I was fooled. I married a man who killed his wife, a wife I didn’t even know about. What else has he lied to me about? What else has he kept hidden?

I don’t even know if I care to know anymore.

The door swings open and Mikhail stands there, rumpled with bloodshot eyes. He looks half drunk and slightly insane.

Good. I hope he’s just as angry as I am.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growls and almost seems to grow in size in the doorjamb.

I stare back at him, unafraid, ready to burn the house down with him in it. If he tries to hurt me, he won’t live another day.

I guarantee that.

“I don’t want to see you,” I say and he stalks toward me, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Why?” he asks. “Is it because of…her?”

The way he says that last word is disparaging, hateful. No wonder he killed her. He didn’t like her. Not at all. And what about me? Am I next? He’s never loved me, not even in the beginning. If I stayed, would I end up buried somewhere on his property, discarded and forgotten?

I don’t respond to his question, silence pinging off the walls of the room, digging into my chest and making my heart bleed.

“It’s because of her,” he finally says, and then he throws a wadded-up piece of paper at my feet. The photograph of her, so easily tossed aside.

“I hate you,” I whisper, and Mikhail’s nostrils flare, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re awful. A hateful, terrible man. I wish I’d never married you.”

“Is that what you wish?” he hisses, moving so close to me I could reach out and lay my hand on his ticking jaw. But I don’t do that. We don’t touch. We do nothing but stare at one another .

“Yes,” I reply, a lump in my throat, my eyes stinging. “I wish I’d never met you.”

“Fine then, my little devil. We can dissolve the contract. Get a divorce. Whatever the fuck you want.”

As he says that, something moves across his face, something indiscernible, but it’s there. And I wish I knew what it was. I want to know despite everything.

“Did you offer her a divorce too?” I can’t help but ask. “Or did you just murder her instead?”

His eye twitches uncontrollably. “Do not speak about her in this house.”

“I will if I want to. I didn’t even know you had a wife, Mikhail. Is lying second nature to you or did you just not respect me enough to tell me?”

“She’s inconsequential, a blight, no one of importance.”

“She was your wife!” I nearly scream. “And you murdered her!”

“I did!” he shouts, his body almost growing in size with his anger. “I did. I slit her fucking throat and watched her die. And I’d do it again! I’d fucking murder her again.”

The admission makes me shrink back, and for the first time fear snakes through me. I married a monster, a man so calloused, so unfeeling that he regrets nothing.

I should have left right away. I should have never tried to make this work.

There’s nothing in him worth saving. Nothing redeemable.

“I’m leaving. Do not follow me,” I say and step to my side.

“You’re leaving the house?”

“No. Just leaving the room.”

He deflates slightly, and I bite back a sob. But I don’t break down, not in front of him. Not in front of anyone. So I turn and run from the room.

I’m such a fool.

Such a fucking fool.

I sleep in bed with Diablo and Skylar that night, tucked into my twin just like we used to when we were younger.

“I’m going to murder him,” Diablo whispers into my ear as I try to sleep. Not that I can. I’m distraught. “I’m going to cut him to pieces and bury him where no one can find him.”

Skylar grumbles next to him, the bed shifting as he tries to get comfortable. But he’s not sleeping any more than we are. Poor guy. He didn’t ask for this, but let me in their bed all the same.

“I don’t want you to kill him. I just want to leave. I want to be happy, Diablo.”

My eyes are wet, leaking onto my twin’s shirt, and I can feel him vibrating with anger.

“You will be happy when we get you out of here.”

“Please don’t tell Dad, though. Not yet. I want to enjoy my time with him and Tatum. When they leave, I’ll get this sorted.”

“I’ll stay until you do.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I will. I’m not leaving you with him.”

“He won’t hurt me,” I lie.

“I’m sure his wife thought the same thing.”

I let that comment stew while I cling to my brother. I don’t want him to leave me here, but I also don’t want to deal with my dad’s wrath if he finds out about Mikhail and my marriage dissolving.

How did he not know about Mikhail’s wife? Was this covered up? Hidden from everyone?

I don’t know, but I have so many questions.

So fucking many.

And I don’t know when I’ll have them answered, if ever.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I fall asleep, and when I wake up the next morning, Skylar is gone and I’m pressed against my twin, his arms around me as I try to stifle my dread. I have to pretend everything is okay. I have to fake it until my dad and Tatum leave because I don’t want them involved. Not yet.

I don’t want a war to start between our houses. I just want this to end as peacefully as possible.

“Let someone else make breakfast,” Diablo says when I start to get out of bed. “You’re too nice to those bastards. They all knew the truth and didn’t tell you.”

I considered this too and it breaks my heart. I’ve been so good to them, all of them. I’ve tried to make this place my home, make them my family, and they all betrayed me. They kept a huge secret from me and now I’m torn to pieces.

I don’t even want to get out of bed.

I’m so depressed it hurts to move.

“Or I can make breakfast and poison all of them,” Diablo murmurs.

“I’ve made it,” Skylar says as he enters the room with a cup of tea for me. “You rest.”

Diablo smirks at him and then asks, “Where’s my tea?”

“Get your own, demon.”

Diablo laughs and then forces me to sit up so I can drink, and then Skylar disappears only to return with a plate of breakfast a moment later.

“French toast and strawberries,” he says, and I can’t help it. I start to weep.

Diablo is so lucky. So lucky to have found someone like this, and here I am, desperate for it and I have nothing.

I cry into my breakfast, hiccupping so badly that I grow nauseous. I don’t even get to enjoy the beautiful breakfast that Skylar made me. I just force it down and then make myself smile because if I don’t, I’ll cry again. And I don’t want my dad to find me like this. He can’t see me like this.

“They’re not up yet,” Skylar reassures me. “Tatum has insisted on Anthony sleeping in.”

Diablo snorts and then waggles his eyebrows, trying to make me laugh. “We know what that means. Now Angel, get up, wash your face, and make that man regret ever fucking you over.”

“Please don’t stab him again.”

“I make no promises. I would enjoy cutting him apart.”

“I know, Diablo, but please don’t.”

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it. You’re crushing my dreams, really.”

I hug him tightly, sniffling into his shoulder and then making my way to the bathroom where I scrub at my teeth, shower, and put eyedrops into my eyes so they’re not as red before making my way out of the bedroom.

Everyone is in the kitchen, waiting around, staring at Teddy in confusion as he washes the dishes in the small floral apron I usually wear. Mikhail is nowhere to be seen.

Good. I don’t want to see him.

I want to forget I ever married him.

I want to forget it all.

But that’s not possible. Right now, I need to fake it. I need to pretend it’s fine. All while avoiding my husband so my dad doesn’t clue in on what’s going on. I don’t want anyone else hurt because of my mistakes. This is between me and my husband. Soon-to-be ex if all goes according to plan.

Not that I have a plan. Just that I expect to be packing up and leaving shortly after my dad does. I need them gone first.

I need to handle this on my own.

I smile my way through cleaning up breakfast, trying not to think of the bodyguards and their betrayal, their silence through it all. And even still, I see the worry in their eyes, the feeling that something’s not quite right, but I force a smile at them, pretending I’m just fine before Tatum appears and lures me outside into the garden.

“Sorry about the late morning. But your dad needs to sleep more,” he says with a grin, oblivious to my internal pain.

“He does,” I say, forcing my mind to remain blank. “I’m glad he has you. ”

“I’m not so sure he’s glad he has me sometimes. Especially when he was grumbling this morning.”

I let out a small laugh, and Tatum grins back.

“Your bodyguards here are very protective of you,” he says quietly.

Felix and Titus are lingering near me, but I make sure not to look at them.

“They just like my cooking.”

Tatum snorts. “I think it’s more than that. You’ve really made a home here.”

I swallow back my tears and nod. “I have. Now look, Teddy’s coming. I’ve missed his little picnic lunches.”

“Me too. Seems he only likes to put them together for you.”

As he says that Tatum flings out a quilt and we sit on it as Teddy sets a basket down by our feet. I peel it open and my stomach roils with nausea. I have no desire to eat, but I have to. I have to force it down.

“Oh yes, salami and cheese. Oh, and wine,” Tatum says and then holds the bottle out to Teddy for him to open.

As he pours us each a glass, I lean back and let the sun hit my cold, clammy skin.

“Are you happy here?” Tatum asks me as he sips his wine. I can feel Felix and Titus holding their breath as they wait for an answer.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’m as happy as I can be.”

Tatum glances at me, his eyebrows raised. “What the hell does that mean?”

I shrug and stare up at the fluffy clouds in the sky. “It means what it means.”

It means that I’m unhappy, but I’m doing the best I can. I’m trying. And as hard as I worked for it, it didn’t amount to anything. I’ll have to go home with my tail tucked between my legs. A failure at marriage and a failure at love.

Angelo Costello.

Failure extraordinaire .

I force my lips up into a smile and sigh. “I’m where I need to be right now.” I reach out and grab Tatum’s hand. “And I’m so glad you’re here, visiting.”

He grins at me. “I am too. I was worried about you. Your dad was too, but it seems…good here?”

That is asked as a question, but I ignore it. “How are you and my dad?”

“Fantastic. I think he’s a little obsessed with me,” he whispers loudly. “He got my name tattooed on his chest.”

I let out a surprised laugh. “Did he? That’s wild.”

“It is. I can’t believe he did that. He was very proud too. Showed me one night and I nearly fainted.”

“I can’t believe he did that.”

“Me either. It’s so fun.”

He waggles his hand at me, showing me his missing finger, still wrapped in gauze. “I guess I earned it.”

“I guess you did,” I say and then snuggle up to him on the blanket. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I should have come home…”

“No, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s fine. It’s over. Everything is on the mend. I barely notice it anymore. And your dad keeps me very distracted.”

“Oh god, don’t tell me any details.”

“I won’t, but when I say your dad is a Daddy…”

I muffle his mouth with my palm, and he giggles beneath me. And as happy as I am for him, for how content he is, I’m jealous, disgustingly so. I want that. I want it so bad and can’t have it. Not at all. Mikhail was never going to let me in, was never going to love me.

And it doesn’t matter now anyways. It’s over.

As soon as I can, I’m packing up and leaving.