Page 9 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

7

ANGEL

I don’t see Mikhail for the rest of the day, the hours stretching from afternoon to evening quicker than I expected. And despite making golubtsi for dinner and insisting Mikhail get none of it, Nina insists.

“His grandmother used to make this. He will enjoy it.”

“I don’t care,” I say as she piles a plate full of food. “Let me poison it first,” I murmur, but she just tuts, stalking away without a backward glance.

I let her go, realizing it’s not worth fighting over. I don’t care if he eats my meals or not. I don’t care about him at all.

From now on, maybe I’ll make dinner at the bodyguards’ house. But just as soon as I think that, I realize I don’t want Mikhail to think that he’s scared me off. I don’t want him to think I’m cowering.

I sigh as Casey makes his way inside, his eyes meeting mine, smears of dirt on his shirt and cheek.

I move toward him and wipe it away before pointing to the sink.

“Wash up, you heathen. ”

“I’m your heathen.”

“That you are,” I say as the rest of the guys make their way inside, and I do the same for all of them, helping them wipe dirt from their faces before ordering them to wash their hands. They all chirp a whispered response, “Yes, little husband,” before piling food onto their plates and taking it outside to eat, Russian words of praise on their lips as they stare at a dish that I took extra care to make.

I know they appreciate it.

Usually, we’d eat inside, leaning over counters and perching on chairs around the island, but Mikhail’s presence has ruined that. None of them want to be in here for any longer than they must.

So I don’t stay either.

I follow them outside, the food on my plate mostly untouched, but I force myself to take a few bites, my stomach still in knots from the fact that my husband is home. I know he’s here, and yet, I haven’t seen him.

He’s made his presence completely scarce, and I know it’s because I’m here.

He’s upset with me, with the changes I’ve made to his home.

And I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.

I fucking do.

I’ve always cared far too much.

“You gonna eat that?” Gael asks, peering at the piece of bread on my plate.

“Go ahead,” I say, and he snatches it from me before anyone else can.

“I also have ice cream in the freezer if you’d like any,” I add before standing up and rubbing at my eyes. “Please help yourselves because I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Can someone do the dishes?”

“I will,” Casey says, concern in his eyes, but I dismiss it.

I can’t be worried about him when I need to focus on myself and making it through the night.

I plan on sneaking up to our bedroom and locking the door so he can’t get in, so he has to sleep in that guest room where he spreads all his guests out and fucks them.

Maybe that’s where he is right now.

I set my plate in the sink and make my way down the hallway, unable to keep my hands from shaking as I pry that guest door open. But it’s empty, no hint that it’s been used since he arrived. Relief pulses through me and I let the door close with a snick before making my way up to our bedroom, closing and locking the door.

He’s not here. I can take a bath in peace and ruminate on how I’m going to manage to get through my life with him in it, present and yet…not. Not at all.

I let the tub fill, adding soap and bath salts to the water as I undress. When it’s half full, I sink into the warm water and let my head fall back against the cool ceramic, my eyes slipping closed, my toes fiddling with the faucet still pouring out steaming water.

It’s then that I let the tears fall. They spill down my cheeks, my chest heaving as I struggle for breath. This whole week has been surreal, a struggle of epic proportions and now here I am, letting it all out.

I won’t let him see this.

I’ll never let him see me weak.

I fall beneath the water and run my hands through my hair, dragging them down my face, letting the bubbles slip from my lips and drift to the surface. When I finally emerge, I let out a long breath, my eyelashes fluttering open.

And there he is.

Standing before me with his hands in his pockets, his eyes on mine, boring into me.

I don’t say a word, just meet his stare and hold my breath.

“Angel. Husband.”

“Mikhail,” I reply, glad the water has washed the tears away.

“I see you’ve made many changes,” he says lowly, and I purse my lips, not answering. “Is this you throwing a tantrum?” he asks.

“This is me making this hellhole a home. ”

His eye twitches as he pulls his hands from his pockets, curling them into fists. It’s almost as if he’s going to strike me, and I feel my nerves jump. If he hits me, I’m gone. I won’t stay. I’ll break that contract faster than he can blink and then let Bane pull apart every bone in his body.

But he doesn’t move toward me, just glowers at me, his nostrils flaring, his chest laboring under each breath.

“You locked the door. To my room.”

“ Our room. And I did. I’d rather you sleep in your fuck-buddy guest room. Alone.” His eyes narrow. “There’s no need for us to share a bedroom,” I add.

“So you can fuck my men when I’m not looking?”

I let out a small laugh at the hilarity of it all, but bite it off when I see him take another step toward me.

I hate how hot he is at this moment—his tie loosened, his hair a little mussed, his shirt sleeves rolled up his arms, exposing the tattoos on his pale skin. I wish he were a troll, a mean, ugly thing I could ignore, but it’s hard when he looks so good, when he looks like he could throw me on the bed and take me.

You hate him. You hate him.

I have to remind myself of this as he leans toward me, his cold words a harsh whisper against my skin.

“You won’t be fucking anyone but me, sólnyshko.”

“I won’t be fucking you at all,” I spit, but his fingers reach out, trailing up my shoulder, up the back of my neck before tangling in my hair roughly and tugging my head back.

“You’ll do as I say.”

“You don’t know me at all then,” I reply, my neck aching from the odd angle he’s holding me at. But I don’t let him know it hurts. I refuse. Instead, rage bubbles up inside of me and I let my arms fall to the sides of the tub, arching up slightly and letting my body relax.

His fingers tighten for a moment before they release me, his jaw set in anger.

Good. He won’t best me .

He fucking won’t. I refuse.

“I’m glad you understand me,” I say as I meet his cold stare. “If you can fuck anyone you want, I can do the same.”

His eye twitches, and I let myself grin at him, baring my teeth.

And despite it, the false bravado I’m displaying, my legs are trembling beneath the water, my stomach churning. I want to throw up, to heave up the contents of the measly meal I ate.

“We have a contract,” he says forcefully.

“I know, but I think you don’t give a damn about that. You’re as corrupt as they come.”

His eye twitches once more and then he turns and stalks from the bathroom without another word. I hear the door click shut, and I let myself inhale deeply. The shaking travels up my legs, into my torso, and settles in my hands. I’m left to wash myself with quivering limbs.

By the time I get out of the tub, I’m more composed, but my chest is tight with nerves. I pull the towel around my waist and walk into the bedroom, only to see Mikhail lounging under the covers, his iPad in his hand, his chest bare.

I come to a stop and realize what he’s doing.

He’s calling my bluff.

He wants me to be the one to leave, but I fucking won’t.

I incline my head slightly and then disappear into the walk-in closet, pulling on some pajama shorts and atop—a slutty ensemble, the kind that shows off everything—before making my way back to the bed. I can feel his eyes on me as I move under the covers and pull out a book, perching against the headboard while I let my eyes slide over the words on the pages. I don’t retain any of it, just skim it, but I refuse to let him win this.

I only decide to go to sleep when my eyes start to droop.

He does the same, the two of us wordlessly sliding further under the covers, my heart starting to pound uncontrollably as he turns the light off on his end table and I do the same .

We lie there in the dark, neither of us saying anything, until he finally breaks.

“Goodnight, little devil.”

I don’t respond, just turn on my side, facing away from him and squeeze my eyes shut.

I fucking hate him.

I wake up pressed against something warm and strong, my dick hard and straining against my see-through sleep shorts.

Mm, so nice, so perfect.

I wiggle around, nestling my face further into the body next to me, inhaling the strong masculine scent, something unfamiliar and so unique, before stiffening.

No, this isn’t right. This is all wrong.

The last week floods through me, the loneliness, the anger, the despondency, and I try to shift away. But before I can, a strong arm locks me in place, keeping me right beside him.

Mikhail. My husband.

I was cuddling with my husband.

He grunts as he shifts slightly, his hand sneaking up the back of my lace shirt, and I try to wriggle away, but he seems intent on keeping me put.

He’s either a total creep or completely asleep. Because it’s not like he wants me. He’s made that clear. He doesn’t want me at all.

“Mikhail,” I hiss and then pinch his side, making him grunt. When it doesn’t have the intended result, I do it again, twisting his nipple with my fingers, hoping to dislodge him once and for all.

He jerks upright and then suddenly, I’m on my back, his body over mine, something sharp pointed against my neck.

“Mikhail,” I grunt as he blinks his eyes to awareness, his body crushing mine. “Get off me. ”

He doesn’t move, just keeps me there, his bare chest brushing against mine, making me feel things I don’t want to.

Things like lust.

I should be afraid, but I’m sad to say I’m not.

I’m just turned on.

“Maybe I should keep you here,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep. His cheeks are red, a crease from his pillow lining the right one. “Maybe I should use this knife to ruin that pretty face.”

I swallow, feeling my cock twitch against him. Goddamnit.

“You’d never,” I whisper back, and he drops closer, his nose brushing against my neck and then his teeth scraping against my earlobe.

“Don’t push me, little devil.”

And then he’s moving himself off me and striding to the bathroom. I hear the water of the shower turn on and breathe deeply through my nose, waiting for my heart to stop racing. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything else besides his warm, hard body on mine, the scent of him.

My hand swats at my unruly dick, only succeeding in making it harder.

Hate this for me.

I roll up and off the bed, feeling horny and resigned, and turn toward the closet to change before catching my reflection in the window. My sheer shorts complement my ass cheeks and the lace tank top showcases my pink nipples. Yes. I decide this is how I’m going to be making breakfast. If Mikhail doesn’t like it, he can scream his displeasure into the void.

Because I’m not fucking listening to him.

If I want to cook semi-naked, then I will.

I stride into the empty kitchen and get to work, the heat from the stove, and constantly moving back and forth, keeping me warm. By the time the guys start to file inside, their stomachs rumbling, I’m sweating.

“Look at you, little husband,” Felix says, pulling me into a side hug. “Nice ass.”

I huff a laugh as I dish him up some biscuits and gravy and a heaping pile of scrambled eggs. I made an easy American breakfast this morning and no one attempts to complain.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m not even trying.”

He chuckles and then moves out of the way, grabbing a serving of fruit that Nina cut up last night before striding toward the front door to smoke.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I call after him, but he just shakes his head.

“Don’t oppress me, little husband,” he replies just as Casey moves up behind me and squeezes my shoulder.

“Good morning, Angel. Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

“No thanks,” I reply, handing him a plate. “I’m good just like this.”

He shakes his head but takes his plate and perches at the island, watching me intently. He’s worried about me, about what I’m trying to accomplish. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I know nothing.

This morning really threw me off.

Cuddling with Mikhail.

What the hell was my body even thinking?

After everyone has been dished up, Ivan meanders in, his hair sticking straight up, his glasses broken right down the middle and held together with blue painter’s tape.

“Terrible afternoon to all you pussies,” he grumbles, rubbing at his chest.

Casey peers at him and shakes his head, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“Close, but it’s morning,” I tell him. “And lucky for you, I have some food left. Would you like some?”

He nods, taking the plate from me and sitting next to Casey at the island, ignoring him completely .

“Long night?” I ask as Ivan sniffs the food and takes a tentative bite. He seems to approve because he starts to eat it with gusto.

“You have no idea the trouble. All the trouble. Have you seen my brother?”

“No,” I reply and then turn back toward the stove. I had seen him, in our bed, my body pressed against his.

I’m regretting wearing these see-through shorts now as my dick starts to harden.

“I can see your butthole,” Ivan murmurs.

“Don’t fucking look then,” Casey bites out, and Ivan nearly chokes, turning to look at the man sitting next to him. It’s almost like he didn’t realize Casey was there.

“I was not looking. It’s just on display. Not tasteful at all. Quite rude actually.”

Casey clenches his fist, and I swear he’s about to smash Ivan’s face into the plate.

“Show a little respect, you piece of shit.”

Ivan blinks at him and adjusts his glasses. “Who are you again? You don’t look familiar.”

“I’m Angel’s bodyguard.”

He stares at him for a long moment and then turns back toward his plate of food, dismissing Casey completely. It makes Casey seethe, but I stop him from acting on his anger. I don’t need anyone getting into a fistfight on my watch. Really, I want this house to be as peaceful as it can be. Starting with no bodily injury.

“Come help me with the dishes,” I say, and Casey obediently stands up, knocking into Ivan’s seat as he goes, making him nearly topple from his chair. Ivan grumbles under his breath, righting his glasses and scraping his plate clean.

Casey smirks as he makes his way toward me and then unbuttons and takes his shirt off, handing it to me.

“Put this on. You’ve made your point,” he whispers.

But I haven’t. Mikhail hasn’t seen me yet—almost naked in front of all his men .

I want him to feel something.

I want him to be angry.

But I know my dignity matters to Casey, so I take the shirt he’s offering to appease him, letting my eyes rove across the sculpted chest in front of me before reaching out and flicking his nipple.

“You are too handsome for your own good,” I say.

Casey grins at me, grabbing my shoulder affectionately just as Mikhail walks into the kitchen. What a sight we must make, Casey shirtless, his hand on me, my cheeks flushed.

But what a sight he makes as well, with his damp hair, his tight V-neck t-shirt showing off his hairy chest and huge biceps.

I hate him.

Mikhail stops near the island, his eyes narrowing as he takes Casey and me in, our bodies a little too close, our gazes too affectionate, but he says nothing. Why would he? He doesn’t care about me, or what I do.

I could probably fuck every bodyguard in this place and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

“Ivan, I need to speak to you,” he bites out.

Ivan sighs and pushes away from the island, leaving his plate mostly empty and balanced precariously on the edge of the counter. He follows his brother out of the kitchen, neither of them looking back.

When they go, I pull Casey’s shirt on, feeling small and mostly stupid before turning my gaze back to the sink. I blink back tears and swallow my sobs.

“I’ll murder him,” Casey grits out, and I shake my head, refusing to let him see how upset I am.

“Which one?” I manage to choke out.

“How about both?”

“No murder. Not yet. Please.”

He squeezes my hip gently, and without another word, we get to work.

At least I have him .

At least I’m not totally alone.

I’m working in the garden, Gael and Casey by my side, their skin coated with a sheen of sweat as they help dig holes for my plants. I have so many I’m ready to place into the ground, different shapes and sizes, an array of colors. This place used to be vibrant, I’m sure. Once upon a time.

I need to ask who it belonged to, who tended to it, who kept it alive, and who let it rot. I tried to ask Nina, but she ignored me. One day, I’ll pry it from her. She’s warming up to me slowly.

I swipe at my forehead and sigh, my gaze taking in the trees at the far end of the property. I know George is sequestered out there somewhere, tucked away. I’ll need to find time to follow that small trail and explore more, but not now.

I hear a rustling in the shrubbery near the fence, and I swear I see something or someone flit by, a rush of motion, but I don’t get a good look, my eyes drawn to the front gate as it opens with a loud squawk.

I put down my shears that I’d been using to trim a bush when a black SUV pulls through.

As it rolls past us, Gael curses under his breath, a slew of Russian words exiting his mouth right after, and a moment later Felix comes jogging up to me, his cheeks flushed, eyes wild.

“Hey,” he says, panting slightly and leaning into me. “That’s a um… guest for Mikhail.”

I eye him, cocking my head. “A guest ?”

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t want to let her through, but…”

I grab my shears and nod at him, feeling fury move through me. I’m awash in it. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me,” I say as I walk toward the dark car, my steps sure and purposeful.

If he thinks he’s fucking anyone in that damn room …

I arrive just as the car door opens and a beautiful woman steps from it, wearing something far too revealing. It hangs on her lean form like liquid, and I force my gaze to meet hers.

“Hello,” I say, far too sweetly. Anyone who knows me would know that I’m about to snap.

But she doesn’t know me. She’s just here to spread her legs for my husband.

Her dark eyes move to mine, her fake lashes far too big for her face, makeup caked on heavily. Oh, so this is what Mikhail likes? This is his type?

Rage simmers within me, and I hold the shears out from my body, pointing them at her.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, still smiling, feeling that crack start to splinter.

The woman blinks at me, her painted cheeks turning a darker red, her eyelashes fluttering wildly.

“I’m here for Mikhail.”

“You sure aren’t,” I reply and then waggle the shears threateningly, feeling slightly unhinged. “You’re going to get back in your car and drive away.”

She fiddles with a lock of her dark blonde hair, peering up at the front door, waiting for her lover to show up and save her, but he won’t be getting close to her.

I bet he doesn’t even know she’s here yet.

“And who are you?” she asks, looking more and more nervous the longer Mikhail doesn’t make an appearance.

“His husband,” I say and then snap the shears closed, making her jump. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

She eyes me warily and then nods.

“That’s probably for the best.”

I snap my shears once more, and she moves back toward the driver’s side, the clack of her heels on the stones almost deafening. She obviously doesn’t want any trouble. Thank God. I didn’t want to have to cut her to pieces. I don’t think I could have handled that. I really don’t have the stomach for murder.

The car starts and as it backs up, Mikhail appears on the porch, his eyes narrowing as his lover drives off with a wave. Those blue eyes swivel to me, and I let my gaze drag from his face down to his crotch before snapping the shears in his direction. He knows what’s in the contract. He’s not fucking anyone else.

I snap them once more for good measure and then waggle them at him with a big smile plastered on my face.

I’m loving these. So versatile.

His eye twitches and I see his jaw working back and forth before he turns on his heel and disappears back into the house, the door slamming behind him.

Good , I think as I take a deep breath. My mind spins as I fiddle with the shears, and I realize I’m not done. Not yet.

Because these would cut through fabric quite well…and drywall would be a breeze.

Yes, these will work very, very well for what I have planned.