Page 8 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

6

MIKHAIL

“ I do not want to hear your shitty words from your shitty mouth,” Ivan says to me as he glowers over his computer at me. His glasses are crooked and smudged and his hair is a mess.

We are nothing alike, we don’t even look like siblings. Granted, we’re half-brothers, his mother a whore my father kept for years.

But I digress.

“When was the last time you left this place?” I ask, taking in the smell permeating from the garbage can.

I take in the plates of food and the crumbs lining the floor and my jaw tightens.

“Several days. I’ve been busy, brother.”

“Too busy to see what my husband is doing to this place?”

He eyes me from behind his glasses and blinks at me. “I do not know what you speak of.”

“Ivan, the entire house is fucking destroyed. My office wall is gold. And you know I hate that color.”

He snorts and adjusts his glasses, succeeding in making them even more crooked. But he seems unbothered by it all.

I huff in frustration, regretting the fact that I left him in charge when I went away on business. He obviously doesn’t care about this house or the people in it.

He knows I hate gold too. Despise it. It reminds me of the house before, the lavish and ornate decorations my parents loved. And now I have that wall glaring at me in that exact color.

“I had nothing to do with that,” he says, and I grind my teeth in frustration.

There’s no point in arguing. If he were anyone else, I’d shoot him dead. But he’s my brother.

I can’t kill him.

“He’s reviving the garden.” My words are choked as I say them and Ivan blinks at me.

“He is.”

Our eyes meet, memories floating through my mind, the significance of that space, but I squash it. I can’t relive it.

It’s too much, and Ivan will never understand.

He was not around for it, for how bad it was.

I step out of his small, cluttered office and make my way down the hallway, hearing the chattering of people mingling outside the house. My footsteps falter and I make my way toward the front door, seeing Angel there through the glass, standing amongst all my bodyguards. The men I’m paying to do a job.

My fingers tighten, nails digging into my palms and I breathe deeply through my nose, inhaling the scent of cigarette smoke. A vice I gave up ages ago.

One of the bodyguards walks up and pulls Angel into his arms, and I tense, feeling something ugly move through my chest.

But I don’t say anything, just watch from the shadows, hiding inside.

Angel doesn’t even notice me. But how could he when he’s particularly enamored with the men around him? My Angel, with his bright smile, his lean body, the curl of his hair near the nape of his neck.

I should make him pay.

Should make him suffer.

The way he’s taken over changed it all.

I don’t even feel comfortable in my own home anymore. I can feel the energy of it, alive and warm.

I tug on my collar and unbutton it to allow me to breathe.

“Little husband,” I hear one of the bodyguards shout, and my eye twitches as Felix picks Angel up and twirls him around in his arms.

Even Nina is outside, seeming to enjoy the company.

What the hell is going on?

I’ve never seen that woman crack a smile. Ever. And there she is, her lips twitching as if she’s trying like hell to stop the corners of her mouth from creeping up.

Frustration starts bubbling up inside of me, and I turn on my heel, making my way to my office. I slam the door and inhale deeply, the scent of fresh paint permeating my nose.

I’ll have that gold wall repainted immediately, have everything he’s done taken down, even if I have to do it myself. I take a step forward and nearly trip on a rainbow-colored rug in front of my desk, and I seethe.

My little Angel has devilish horns, it seems. There is fire and brimstone behind that golden halo he wears so confidently.

But I’ll be the one to burn this place to the ground before he has a chance.

Before anyone does.