Page 60 of His Prince
He seems to linger longer around me, his gaze moving around the room as if looking for danger. Whenever Mikhail or Ivan approach, he moves to stand next to me, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed.
Mikhail glowers at him as he moves past, but Ivan doesn’t seem to notice. I think that bothers Casey the most.
Not many people can overlook my bodyguard. With how tall and broad he is, the tattoos on his arms, the piercings in his ears.
Not many want to pretend he doesn’t exist. If anything, they flock tohim.
But Ivan seems oblivious.
“I could get an umbrella and stand outside with you,” Casey says just as a crack of lightning pierces the sky.
“And get electrocuted. I’m sorry, Casey, but I’m not as brave as Thomas Edison. I’ll be staying inside until the coast is clear.”
I hear footsteps behind me, and I see Ivan make his way to the kitchen, rustling around in the fridge for something to eat.
“There’s chicken and rice in that Tupperware container,” I call out, to which Ivan replies with a mutteredthank you. He missed lunch, too busy holed up in that cluttered office of his.
I mentioned cleaning it out yesterday and he just blinked at me wildly. Casey told me not to bother trying to help him because according to him, Ivan is an ungrateful shit.
“I think I’m going to work on painting this entryway,” I say. “That will keep me occupied until it stops raining and I can go outside.”
“What color are you thinking?”
“Maybe turquoise. I have a can of it.”
Casey nods in agreement. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to. You should take the afternoon off.”
“I’m fine, Angelo. I’d like to help.”
I sigh, knowing the use of my full name means business, so I relent, letting him help me tape off the baseboards and place plastic on the floor. Nina eventually assists, tutting and grumbling under her breath in Russian, but I’m not deterred. I need to keep my mind off Mikhail, this house, and the people who occupy it.
“This house is so bright,” Nina says as she peels some painter’s tape off the roll and adheres it to the window frame. “It’s not been this way since ages ago.”
I glance at her, wanting to ask her to explain when suddenly footsteps resound behind me and I whip around in a panic, paint splattering against Mikhail’s shirt and tie, some even hitting his cheek.
He glowers at me, not moving a muscle as bright blue paint dribbles down his chin.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, a giggle pulsing up my throat.
“You look good in blue,” Nina says, her words dry, her accent heavy.
It’s too much, the sight of him, the way he’s glowering at Nina. I explode, laughing so hard I double over, my hands on my stomach as I fight for air. I gulp it down, trying to breathe, but there’s not enough of it. And it doesn’t help that Mikhail does nothing but stare at me, his eyes darkening, paint dripping from his face.
“Oh god,” I wheeze and then swipe at my dripping eyes. “You look…”
It sets me off again and I double over, holding my cramping stomach. It finally subsides, but it takes ages. The paint has dried and the rain has stopped.
An eternity has passed and still, he doesn’t move.
I stand up and shake my head, trying to force myself not to devolve into fits and giggles again. Luckily, it’s subsided and I’m able to toss a rag at Mikhail who just smears the paint around his face and neck.
“Oh my. So,sofunny.”
He doesn’t think so, but Nina is chuckling in the corner, carrying on with the painting while Casey huffs in amusement.
It’s then that the doorbell rings and Mikhail moves to answer it. I’m unable to move for fear of laughing again.