Page 7 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

5

ANGEL

T he house is alive, full of color and people. It’s been almost a week since Mikhail left, and I’ve stopped worrying about what he’ll do when he arrives back home. I don’t care anymore.

I give zero fucks.

It seems I have my breaking point, and that point is my husband.

The last few nights, I’ve stopped tossing and turning, letting my low-simmering rage lull me to sleep.

And every morning, I wake up, do a few calming yoga poses, and then head down to make breakfast. I’ve gotten creative with it as well, loving how much the bodyguards are enjoying the Russian dishes I’ve learned to make. At least someone appreciates me.

When everyone is fed, I send them outside to smoke while I dole out tasks for them to complete. They all comply, teasing me in the way they do, but happily completing the jobs I’ve given them.

The house is almost done as well, with just a few rooms left to paint, and so now my focus is going to be the garden. I’ve even put out an ad for a gardener, with Nina’s approval. She scowled at me when I suggested it, but she let me go through with it after I batted my eyelashes at her. I have seven applications to look through. Seven. That’s six more than I was hoping for.

“You do know he will be very angry,” Nina says as I survey the silver and gold wallpaper that’s currently being placed on the kitchen wall by Titus. Apparently, he grew up doing this for his aunt and offered to take care of it when I suggested a nice print on the wall adjacent to the island.

No more dull grays and whites.

“I really don’t care,” I reply, and Nina tuts. It’s a favorite pastime of hers. Always clucking her tongue at me.

“If he gets angry, he’ll have to go through me,” Casey replies, appearing at my side, his hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing.

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Casey, I’ll be fine. No one is going through anyone.”

He huffs in frustration and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Your dad sent me here to protect you.”

“And you are. But I can handle my husband on my own.”

“Our little husband can handle his own,” a voice says, and I turn to see Ivan leaning against the doorframe, a snickerdoodle in his hand. I’ve won him over with these. When I had made them initially, he sniffed them and then took a tentative bite.

His lashes fluttered behind his glasses and he nodded his approval.

“These are passable.”

I took that as the highest compliment. And when he started calling me little husband I knew I was in with him.

He takes a bite of the cookie, the crumbs hanging on his shirt before falling to the floor. I don’t know how he manages to be such a chaotic mess, but it intrigues me.

This entire crew is fascinating.

They’ve definitely helped to keep my mind off the fact my husband is missing and has yet to contact me, my messages read but still unanswered.

Casey clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, as if to protect me from the man who isn’t even here, but I really don’t need him to do that. I’m fine.

I made Casey promise to not say anything about my situation to my father or his boyfriend—my best friend, Tatum. The two of them tell each other everything.

I don’t want them to swoop in and rescue me.

I can handle this.

“Casey, you’re smothering me,” I whisper, shoving at him slightly. He hasn’t left my side since realizing that Mikhail left me alone here. And while I appreciate it, and honestly want to sob into his arms, I can’t do that. Because if I crack, the dam will break and I don’t know how I’ll survive it.

I’ll drown in it.

“Greenhouse is here,” Gael says from the front door, and I clap my hands, pushing past Casey, leaving him to deal with Ivan.

He has a way of making Casey incredibly distracted and frustrated, which is great. It’s the only thing that really distracts him from me.

“Oh, I’m so excited about this.”

“I’ll help in getting this set up,” Gael says as Felix bounds over next to him, throwing his arm around Gael’s neck. They wrestle their way over to the delivery men, who are watching us all with wide eyes.

“Hi there,” I say, handing them a container of cookies and a few bottles of waters. “For your service.”

They take it from me, and Felix snorts happily.

“He’s not poisoning you. Do not look at him that way. Our little husband is just nice.”

He ruffles my hair, and I swat at his hand. He’s making it sound like I’m married to all these chain-smoking guards in tracksuits.

The delivery guys eye me for a second more but tuck the box of cookies in their truck and follow Gael, Felix, and me to where I want the greenhouse set up. I want it placed just outside the periphery of the garden, the space I’ve been slowly plucking away at, trying to make it more my own.

No, not more. My own .

This is my space. Mine.

I do what I want.

I square my shoulders and beam at them, watching as their muscles flex as they move. Gael even pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the ground, his abs tightening as he squats down and lifts an entire pallet onto his shoulder.

I wet my lips and admire them because, really, who cares if I look? Mikhail isn’t here and it’s not like he cares about me anyway.

So he can fuck right off.

“Yes, right there. Gael, Titus! Can you help, please?”

And just like that, the greenhouse is being erected.

Just like fucking that.

I sit amongst it all, the chaos that is slowly forming the semblance of a home for myself.

I hate it here, this cold and lifeless place, and yet I can’t help but wonder if this is where I’ll spend the rest of my life. And if it is, then I’m going to make this as livable and cheerful as I can.

I am going to do this—for me.

“Would you like some lemonade?” I ask as some of the men walk by, their skin glistening with sweat. More and more are losing their clothes in the glare and warmth of the sun that is peeking out from behind the clouds.

And I don’t mind it one bit.

Two guards stop and take a cup, gulping it down, andswiping their mouths with the back of their hands in appreciation.

“Fuck, that’s good,” one of them says, reaching out for a refill. I oblige, pouring him some more before turning to look at the men who are hauling broken pieces of the garden away in wheelbarrows, giving me room to plant to my heart’s content. I only need to find the time to do it.

“You need sunscreen, Casey and Felix…actually all of you. Sunscreen ,” I shout out, but they just make a face at me, rolling their eyes at my motherly tone, and get back to work. I place my hands on my hips and sigh. It’s slightly overcast, but that doesn’t mean they won’t get sunburned. When no one comes to me to get sprayed, I stand up, grabbing both sunscreen bottles.

These grown men are like children most days, I swear.

“Alright, you’ve all been warned. I’m reapplying,” I tell them as I approach. They grumble and groan when I point to the space in front of me, and glumly make their way to me, allowing me to spray them down and then rub it into their skin.

As I do this, they tease me, making lascivious remarks, but I just ignore it and let them get on with it. They can make all the comments they want as long as no one follows through with it. And I know that it’s good-natured. None of them actually want to fuck me.

Either way, Casey doesn’t like them teasing me. He threatens them all with bodily harm if they continue, but they just throw their arms around him and jostle him slightly, forcing him to wrestle free.

I ignore the manly display of might and just point to the spot in front of me once more.

“Alright, Titus. Get over here. And honestly, put that cigarette out,” I say. “Stop hiding behind that tree. I can see you.”

He slinks out and grimaces when I spray the liquid on his already red skin, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I hate sunscreen,” he grumbles.

“Yes, I know, but you’ll hate skin cancer more. Trust me on this one.”

He pulls a drag from the cigarette and lets out a smoky exhale. I’ll work on their lungs next, but right now I’m happy they’re letting me spread this stuff on their skin .

As I’m rubbing the liquid onto his back, a sleek car pulls into the driveway and comes to a slow stop. As the engine shuts off, all heads turn toward it. In that moment, everything seems to come to a halt, even the men seem to be holding their breath.

“Oh shit, little husband,” Titus whispers and then takes a step away from me, nearly tripping over a shovel on the ground in his haste.

“I’m not done with you,” I murmur, but my heart is throbbing in my chest as I let him go.

My gaze narrows as I watch Mikhail step out.

My first thought is he looks impeccable with his dark gray suit and his light brown hair combed back. He has no right to look this good.

But then he turns to look at me, his blue eyes narrowing as he takes in my position amongst all his men, and I see the barest of twitches in his right eye.

Annoyance flitters across his face before he schools his gaze into something hard and unmoving.

I fold my arms across my chest and force myself to meet his stare.

I’m not apologizing for this. I’m not fucking going to.

It’s a tense few seconds, no one even moving, but then he turns and walks off, his strides sure and purposeful as he makes his way to the house. I watch him go, watch every step he takes until I can’t see him anymore.

As soon as the front door shuts behind him, I let out a long breath. And so does everyone else.

“Fuck, I’m going to be flogged for that,” Titus whines, and I turn to look at him.

“You won’t. I promise.”

They look unsure, but I’m confident about this. If Mikhail wants to punish anyone, it will be me. They were just following orders. I was the one who put this entire plan into motion.

“I think I’ll go start lunch,” I say, pressing my shaking hands into my sides and nodding. They stare at me for a moment more before getting back to work. But even as they do, anxiety hangs in the air. It’s palpable.

Casey moves up beside me, wanting to follow me into the house, but I stop him.

“I can handle it,” I say. “I promise. You forget sometimes who my dad is, who my brother is.”

“I know, but you’re not them,” he whispers.

I press a hand to his warm chest and he grabs it, squeezing tightly.

“I’ll be fine.”

He reluctantly lets me go, and I stride toward the house, telling myself I’m not going to look for Mikhail, not going to confront him. I’m only going in to make lunch for the guys. Since dawn, they’ve been up working. They’re hungry. They deserve my best. I can do this for them.

When I enter the kitchen, Nina is standing there watching me approach, her lips pursed.

“You made him mad.”

“Good,” I reply, moving to the pantry and grabbing the loaves of Russian black bread, and cured meats and salted fish from the fridge.

As I’m putting everything together, I hear a door slam, and I peer over at Nina who is washing some vegetables—because I’ve insisted on them eating something green with each meal—and wordlessly berating me.

“You’re going to pit brother against brother,” she says, and I turn to look at her.

“Who’s his brother?”

“Ivan.”

My movements halt as I place the knife down and glower at her. “And no one thought to tell me this?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I know nothing,” I whisper, feeling my eyes start to sting. I fucking know nothing. At all. Not the man I married. Not the people I work with. I don’t even know myself anymore .

Nina comes to a stop near me and her hand falls on my arm, squeezing roughly, her fingernails digging into my skin, making me gasp.

“Pull yourself together, boy. Don’t let him see you cry.”

I sniffle and nod, swallowing roughly, before schooling my features and getting back to work.

I can cry later when I’m alone.

Where no one can see. Not even myself.