Page 28 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

26

ANGEL

“ I don’t like how long he’s been in there,” I hiss, pacing in front of the office door. I know that face, that man. He was in the photograph with Katarina. The handsome man who looked so much like Mikhail. Only now he’s older.

If only I’d shown Mikhail that. I just didn’t think it was relevant. I still don’t know if it is. They weren’t in a compromising position, but for some reason, it rubs me the wrong way.

“He will be okay, little husband. He and Daniil have been friends for a very long time,” Gael says.

“Yes, I know, but I don’t like it. Or him. He gives me bad vibes.”

“He is an odd man, but he loves Mikhail like a brother. Do not worry your pretty head.”

Casey nudges Gael roughly. “That’s condescending. Angel can worry if he wants to. He has every right to be concerned.”

“I do,” I say with a nod, and Gael has the decency to look somewhat ashamed .

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Gael says, and I sigh, pulling him into a hug.

“I know, but I don’t trust that man. He’s stealing from Mikhail. I know it.”

“Then Mikhail will sort him out.”

I doubt that very much.

My fears are confirmed when Mikhail emerges from the office, a look of relief on his face.

“There must have been a mistake.”

My disbelief is loud, and I see Daniil narrowing his eyes at me over Mikhail’s shoulder. Oh, I knew it. He thinks that because he’s been friends with Mikhail for ages my opinion won’t count, that Mikhail will ignore me.

Well, we’ll see about that.

“Perhaps now that this is all settled, we can put this behind us and have dinner,” Daniil suggests.

I stare at the man, the impeccable suit and tie, the nicely combed hair. He looks a little too slick for my liking.

“I’d like to see those books, if you don’t mind,” I say, and Mikhail’s hand tightens on mywaist.

“You don’t need to,” Mikhail grinds out, and I stare up at him, my lips pursing in frustration.

“I need to speak to you. Outside.”

“We’ll do no such thing,” Mikhail says and nods to Daniil. “Dinner would be nice.”

Daniil grins. “How about Dovoda? I can get us a table. It is no worry.”

The way he smiles makes me shudder. He’s calculating and nothing good can come from this.

“That sounds very nice,” I interject, and Mikhail stiffens next to me. He expects me not to agree to this. Well, he has no idea what I’m doing or what my plan is. “I’d love dinner.”

Daniil seems surprised by my acceptance, and I cock my head at him, arching an eyebrow .

“Well, it’s settled then. Dovoda. Let’s go. I always have a table ready for me.”

I manage to keep my eyes from rolling out of my head at his humblebrag.

Mikhail sets his hand on my lower back and moves me forward, lowering his voice an octave.

“What is your plan, little devil?”

“Oh, no plan. I’m just here as a supportive husband.”

Mikhail scoffs at that, but we continue to move to the SUV as Daniil makes his way to his own car. When we get inside and Dima starts driving, I turn toward Mikhail, and he sighs.

“I knew you had something to say.”

“I do. Daniil isn’t to be trusted. I know you think he showed you the books, but he’s cooking them. I promise you that.”

Mikhail runs a hand across his jaw and looks out the window.

“He’s been with me for decades, Angel.”

I bite my lip, wanting to blurt out that I have that box hidden in the greenhouse, that there are pictures of him with Katarina, but they’re not conclusive. He already said that they were friends. He’s going to need way more than that to believe me.

“I know, but he’s lying to you. He’s up to something, and I don’t like him at all.”

“His books were fine. Ours must have been off.”

I see Casey cock an eyebrow at me, but I just shake my head. “I promise you he’s the one with something to gain here. Ivan, Andrew, and I saw what’s going on and he’s definitely stealing from you.”

“He has no reason to! I’ve given him everything he could possibly want for being loyal!”

Anger pulses off him, and I set my hand on his thigh, feeling it clench beneath my palm. He reaches out and touches me gently, almost as if to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m at a loss,” he says lowly, trying to keep those words of weakness from the guards.

“I know, but I’ll prove it to you,” I say and then grab my phone from my bag. If Mikhail wants proof, I’ll give it to him. I know I don’t need to, that I could just throw my hands up and let it go. But I refuse. I’ve come this far… we’ve come this far.

I’m going to show him the evidence he needs.

I just need the help of my brother.

Diablo is a little harder to convince. He doesn’t want to help Mikhail—says he’d rather burn one of his beloved saws—but the intrigue of the entire situation has him agreeing to it.

He’ll do this for me, not for Mikhail.

I’ll take it , I think as Dima drives us to the restaurant in the middle of the city. It’s an older, elegant building with the sign of the restaurant painted in gold. It shimmers in the night sky as Dima pulls up to the front and we all step out.

“Dima, you can come in,” Mikhail says, but he just shakes his head.

“I’ll feel better waiting here,” he says and catches my gaze. Ah, so he agrees with me then.

Good. Mikhail may need more convincing than I planned.

“I’ll bring you something,” I tell him, and he just nods, maneuvering the car around back to wait. Just in case.

The four of us move into the restaurant, greeted by an older woman in a dour-looking outfit. She looks like a headmistress in an old British school.

“You are here with Mr. Novikov?” the woman asks, her teeth snapping slightly, and Mikhail nods.

“Right this way,” she replies, and we all follow her to a back room. We move through the opulent space boasting golden walls, chandeliers, and chairs made of red leather.

I hold back my comments on the decor as we see Daniil seated at a table with three other men. Four against four is my immediate thought .

I don’t like this at all.

Mikhail’s hand squeezes mine, and I repeat the action.

“Glad you could make it!” Daniil says and stands up, welcoming us with a wave of his hands. The other men don’t rise, just stay seated, their gazes cold and unmoving. I swear the bulges under their jackets are guns, and I don’t like that at all.

“Ah, yes. I see your concern,” Daniil says with a fake grin. “This is just some added security. In case things get a little out of hand. You know, the city can be a dangerous place,” Daniil says, and he turns his gaze to me.

My lips purse, and I force my eyes to meet the table.

If I pretend to be demure, hopefully he’ll think I’m not the problem. And I really hope Diablo is able to get the information I need so Mikhail can be rid of this man forever.

Hopefully where George can dismember him.

But I won’t go there quite yet. Maybe he has a plausible explanation, but I doubt that very much.

In fact, I’d bet my life on it.

“Please sit. I have drinks coming and then appetizers.”

Mikhail’s hand curls against my lower back as he leads me around the table, situating me between him and Casey. He pulls out the chair, and I lower myself into it, sitting across from Gael.

Unfolding the napkin, I set it in my lap and then reach over and gently touch Mikhail’s leg.

We’ve got this.

He reaches between us and squeezes my hand once more, almost as if he’s gleaning strength from me. But within seconds, it’s gone.

I don’t let it bother me. With his history and the fact that Katarina betrayed him so terribly, I know he’s unwilling to believe Daniil has betrayed him for all these years. I’m going to have to come up with more proof than just some numbers on a spreadsheet.

Hopefully something in black and white, something so damning that even Daniil can’t explain it away .

The men all begin speaking in Russian, but Mikhail stops them with a wave of his hand.

“English, please. For my husband.”

Daniil’s eyes flare, but he quickly schools his face. “Of course. How rude of me.”

I eye him and smile widely as if it didn’t bother me at all.

The drinks are brought in and I stare at mine, waiting for Daniil to drink his first. Believing he’s going to kill us off while in this restaurant might seem like paranoia, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

After he takes a few sips and Mikhail follows, I do the same.

It’s strong and I flinch slightly as I drink it down. Daniil must catch my face because he says something in Russian, and Mikhail leans toward me and translates, “He just said you seem soft.”

I snort and meet Mikhail’s eyes. “I am. And you like me just like that.”

His eyes fall to my lips, and he clears his throat. “I do.”

When he finally sits back up, my phone vibrates against my thigh and I pull it out, seeing Diablo’s text.

Diablo:

I’m in. This guy is a slob. I bet he doesn’t wash his penis.

I bite back a smirk, glancing up at the man who is the topic of conversation. He’s laughing with Mikhail, talking animatedly, but I can see the deceit hidden beneath his smile. I can see why Mikhail is so enamored with him. If I were anyone else, I’d assume Daniil adored Mikhail. But he doesn’t. How could he adore him and steal from him?

All of it is a lie, from his books to the way he speaks.

He’s a snake.

I clear my throat and square my shoulders, taking another sip of the alcohol. Wowza, that is quite the drink.

“Slow down, sólnyshko. It is too strong for you,” Mikhail says, his hand moving around my shoulders. Then he whispers something in my ear, “I need your wits about you.”

Our eyes meet, and I know that he senses something is off. He may not have proof, but the vibe in this room is sinister. He must feel it. Something’s changed from the office to now, and from the way Mikhail’s eyes are narrowing to the set of his jaw, I know he believes me.

He may not understand it fully, but at least he now knows that Daniil is up to something.

“I always have those,” I reply and waggle my eyebrows slightly.

Mikhail shakes his head and then turns back to Daniil, talking about their business in a very roundabout manner. I, in turn, watch as soup and then baskets of bread and cold cuts of meat are brought to the table, and everyone digs in, even Casey. I swear this is probably more risky than doing business with Daniil.

I just pick at the bread that’s set before me, avoiding everything else.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Daniil asks, and I shrug.

“I’m not that hungry.”

He looks frustrated at that but hides it with a fake smile. At this point, I’d really like him to start losing teeth. That would make him less charming.

The next course is salad and I move it around my plate, not sure if any of it is actually safe. Daniil seems like the kind of smarmy rat who would use a biological agent to get us immobilized.

He seems like the kind of man to operate on the dark web.

He might be handsome, but he’s a creep. Through and through.

As everyone eats, the clinking of silverware on ceramic bowls resonates throughout the room filled with talking and laughter. It all rings fake to my ears. Even Daniil’s bodyguards are forcing it.

One looks like he’s taking a shit every time he puckers his lips and chuckles.

The main course is brought out shortly after, and I watch as everyone eats it. Casey is a little more circumspect about how much he’s eating, obviously wary but not wanting anything to escalate because of him. It seems Daniil has no problem calling anyone out for not eating what’s being served. I’m just getting away with it because I’m Mikhail’s husband.

My phone starts to vibrate continuously, and I glance down at it, information flooding in from Diablo. No one notices, though. Everyone is too buzzed from the drinks. Except Casey. He’s just as quiet as me, his eyes meeting mine, his brows scrunching in concern.

He gets how bad this could become.

Dessert is brought out, and I force myself to take a few bites, feeling nauseous the longer the information sits on my phone unanalyzed. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I want to go over it with a fine-tooth comb and present it to Mikhail in an easy-to-understand format.

There has to be more to it than just numbers.

Please, God, let Diablo have found some pictures. Anything to show that Daniil is in cahoots with Katarina. Or at least was. And that there’s a reason for him to be stealing from Mikhail, some kind of twisted revenge plot?

I don’t know. I need something to show Mikhail that I have his best interests at heart. That this isn’t something we’ve all made up.

“What’s got you so preoccupied?” Mikhail asks, catching me staring down at my phone.

I meet his gaze and arch an eyebrow. “Evidence.”

He blinks slowly. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Do you trust me?”

He swallows, his hand slipping under the table and touching my leg.

“I’m trying to.”

Something moves across his face—yearning, desire—and I reach out and gently touch his face.

“Trust me.”

He nods, the spell broken by Daniil lifting his glass. “Let us toast to us being together once again! You, Mikhail, are like a brother to me. I look forward to many more years of us together.”

It all rings fake, and Mikhail’s hand tightens on my leg. I want Daniil to choke on his own tongue as I watch him toss that liquid back. Maybe I should send him to my father, let him have a go. Make him shut up forever by taking his tongue right out of his lying mouth.

“Come now, will you not toast to a long friendship?” Daniil asks as he meets my stare, my fingers tapping against the mostly full glass of alcohol.

“I’d rather have my wits about me,” I reply with a smile on my face.

His eyes narrow slightly, and Mikhail turns and leans toward me. “You are smart, little Angel. No one should underestimate you.”

“They definitely shouldn’t,” I say and then force another smile, setting my napkin on the table. “Actually, I need to use the restroom.”

My hand skims Mikhail’s arm, and he reaches out slightly, our fingers brushing under the table.

I’ve got this. I’ve got you.

Without another word, I walk from the small backroom, Casey following me. As soon as we’re alone, he reaches out and touches me gently.

“I don’t like that man. He is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“I know,” I reply. Pulling out my phone, I pull up the information that Diablo sent over. I scroll through it quickly and then I stop and hold my phone up to Casey.

“I knew it,” I say, and there in the picture are Daniil and Katarina—naked, in bed. “He’s already mostly convinced, but this will solidify it. It has to.”

Just as I utter those words, Casey pulls me into him, and I turn to see Daniil, his body crowding mine.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice dark and suspicious, his Russian accent deepening .

“I was just checking my phone,” I reply, making sure to keep my voice even. “My brother messaged.”

He leans a little closer to us, and Casey nearly growls in annoyance, his gun now in his hand. “Back up. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Take another step, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

Daniil laughs darkly and holds up his hands. “Of course. I don’t mean to impose. I was just worried you lost your way…”

His eyes meet mine and something sinister moves through them. I don’t like this, not at all.

“Can we continue to the restroom or do you have something else pressing?”

Daniil gestures toward the hallway, and I swallow roughly, no longer wanting to walk down there when he’s standing at the entrance, almost as if he’s guarding our escape.

But I have to.

Casey seems to think the same thing because he doesn’t let go of his gun and moves us down the hall and out of sight.

“If he makes a move, if anyone makes a move, I’ll end them.”

I nod and shiver slightly, wishing Mikhail was here with me, but he’s still back in the other room. And I’m here without him.

“I shouldn’t have left him, Casey.”

“Gael is with him,” he says softly.

“But he needs to see this,” I whisper and then realize I’m going to have to just send it to him and hope he sees it. With shaking hands, I forward him the picture, because things could end badly at any minute. And I need him to know. And if he eliminates Daniil…well, even better.

We make it to the bathroom and Casey ushers me inside while he stands on the other side of the door. The music is louder in here, something foreign and upbeat. It’s making me a little anxious, to be honest. Almost as if the music is possessed by something. Or maybe that’s the mood I’m in right now. Daniil has soured everything about this trip.

I don’t even have to use the bathroom, but I needto kill a few minutes so he doesn’t think I’m up to something. Daniil is already suspicious. I wash my hands, staring at myself in the mirror, my face pale, eyes wide.

I need to keep it together. For Mikhail. He deserves the best from me. He needs to have someone loyal fighting for him.

When I exit, Casey is leaning against the wall, his breathing slightly labored, a bead of sweat falling down his temple.

“You okay?” I ask, and he turns his gaze toward me. He looks pale and disoriented. “Oh. Oh no.”

Something’s wrong.

Something’s very wrong.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He clutches his stomach, and I press my hand against his neck. His pulse is racing, a tremble moving through his body. “What is it? Tell me, Casey.” Panic lines my voice, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

For the first time since being married to Mikhail, I’m genuinely afraid.

“I don’t know…”

“Was it the soup? I told you not to eat that. There were fish heads in it.” It’s a Hail Mary, a wish, but deep down I know it’s not true.

“No, it’s…”

He slides down the wall, and I follow him, crouching next to him and pressing my hands to his face.

“Casey,” I say, and he moans, his face pale, sweat slicked across his forehead. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

He shakes his head, but I’m already dialing 911 and begging the operator for help before running back toward the dining area, the phone cradled in my hand. As I race toward it, a waiter stops me.

“Hey. Are you okay? Do you need assistance?”

“No, I’m not okay,” I say, my breathing labored. “I—Something’s wrong.”

The man stares at me, confused before I wave my hand toward the hallway with Casey slumped over. “Something’s wrong. He did something to him. He’s hurt. Oh my god?—”

I make no sense, but he seems to snap out of whatever trance he’s in. He grabs a phone from his pocket and starts speaking rapidly to someone on the other end of the line in a language I don’t understand, but I don’t have the time or the mental capacity at the moment to figure it out.

Casey is hurt, and I know Mikhail is too. He would have come looking for me by now.

Oh god. Gael. Dima.

“Did you call anyone?” the waiter asks me, and I nod.

“Yes, I…I need to find him. Please help me,” I say, and then run back to the room, hoping like hell to find Mikhail there, but it’s empty. Just like I feared. The table is in disarray, food scattered about, chairs turned over, as if a fight occurred. But all of that disappears when my eyes land on Gael who is slumped over the table. With shaking hands, I reach over and touch his neck and he’s painfully cold.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest, my eyes watering. Tears slip down my face.

“Please don’t be dead, please.”

I press my fingertips against his pulse point and feel a faint beating. But it’s barely there, just a flicker of life.

“Oh thank fuck,” I murmur as I hear the woman on the phone shouting at me to respond.

“Sir. Sir. We have emergency services on the way.”

“Hurry, something’s wrong. They’ve been poisoned. I don’t know. Oh fuck. And my husband…he’s gone. Oh my god, he’s gone.”

I shouldn’t have ever agreed to come here. I should have insisted that we leave. Fuck, I was playing a game with a dangerous man, and I lost. I fucking lost, and now I may lose Casey and Gael in the process. And my husband.

I don’t know where he is .

Is he even alive? Did they take him? Did he escape?

Just as I think it, Dima appears in the doorway, his eyes wild, his gun drawn.

“I heard the sirens. What happened?”

“They poisoned Casey and Gael! They took Mikhail!” I cry, running to him and letting him pull me into a hug. “Did you see anything?”

“No. Nothing. They must have gone out a different way. Fuck!”

His panic sets me off as the sound of sirens gets louder, and I split my time running between Casey and Gael, shaking them, slapping their faces, anything to help them wake up. But they’re passed out, slumped over and half dead. Dima is standing next to Gael, watching me frantically move back and forth, his gun in his hand, ready to take out anyone who approaches.

The paramedics finally appear with stretchers and start taking vitals. Meanwhile, the waiter who helped me earlier is speaking loudly right outside the room with an older woman, her eyes flaring in alarm, her gray hair bobbing on top of her head.

“Was this Daniil?” she asks me, and I nod, a sob forming in my chest.

“Yes. Oh my god. He took him. He took him .”

She reaches out and forcibly grabs me, much stronger than any granny has any right to be. She shakes me roughly.

“Get it together, boy. You need to keep a clear head.”

“He’s dangerous. He has my husband.”

“We’ll find him. Daniil knows better than to cause drama in my territory.”

The way she says that, as if she runs some kind of granny mob has me blinking up at her.

“Steve will accompany you and your bodyguard to the hospital. I’ll meet you there with some information.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, just as the emergency responders move Gael and Casey out on stretchers, rushing them out of the restaurant.

They can’t give up.

They can’t leave me.

And where the fuck is Mikhail?