Page 34 of His Prince
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…guestfor Mikhail.”
I eye him, cocking my head. “Aguest?”
“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, sothisis 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 tohave to cut her to pieces. I don’t think I could have handled that. I really don’t have the stomach for murder.