Page 71 of His Prince
But as soon as that slips into my mind, it disappears. Bane’s not doing anything. He just arrived, apparently from Andrew’s suitcase. And right now he’s just snooping, doing the opposite of minding his own business. But it seems harmless. Or as harmless as this man can be.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I finally ask, and Bane just shrugs, his hands sliding along the baseboard near the headboard and then suddenly, another secret panel pops open. It’s small, not big enough to fit a human, but it’s obviously a place where secrets are meant to be housed.
Who the fuck had these installed? And where the hell was I when this happened?
I feel my eye start to twitch in time with the pounding in my head. Pretty soon it’s going to be a migraine.
“Oooh, look,” he says and then wiggles the opening free with a rusty creak.
I stand behind him and see something in the wall, a locked box.
Bane wriggles it out and sets it on the ground, the two of us staring at it.
“A treasure.”
“This is none of your business,” I say, and Bane waggles his eyebrows at me.
“I’d like to make it my business. Your house is so fucking fun.”
I grab the box, unsure who it belongs to, but refusing to let him look. Whoever hid this here, I was never meant to find it.
“Get out.”
His lips turn into a pout. “But, Mikhail…”
“No,” I reply and then tuck the box under my arm before grabbing the back of his neck and tossing him out of the room. “This is none of your concern. And stop lurking about my house. If you continue, I will let Georgiy have his way with you.”
He gasps and then runs a hand across his shirt. “Like, what kind of way? A sexy way?”
My lips turn down. “I will have him chop off your toes and use your bones as a necklace for my husband.”
“Oh god,” he groans and then adjusts his crotch. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
My eyes are unblinking as he starts to stroke himself over his pants.
“Maybe you should send me to George. He can tell me what a bad boy I am with that sexy Russian accent of his.”
I don’t even respond, just slam the door in his face, locking it behind me. Then my eyes turn to where he appeared from the ground and decide to send one of my men down there tomorrow to take a look at where it actually leads. I don’t trust Bane or his map-drawing skills. But for now, I don’t want anyone else coming up from beneath the house, so I maneuver a small chest of drawers over the opening before dumping the small box under the bed, deciding to pry it open later.
Right now, I need to find Angel. I need him here—with me.
I turn and make my way out of the room, my shoes hitting the floors and echoing off the walls which used to be empty, but now are adorned with pictures and wallpaper, some even have fake ivy hanging from the corners.
Fucking chaos.
I stomp out of the house and into the garden, findingmy husband in the greenhouse, the moon and a single small lantern lighting his movements.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I nearly shout.
Angel isn’t even surprised. He just turns toward me, dirt smeared on his cheeks, his hands tucked into the soil of a pot before him. He looks like a woodland elf in this moment, untouchable, ethereal.
“I’ve been busy,” he says and then turns his gaze away.
My head is now a throbbing mess, the tension in my temples almost making my vision white out.
“Did you apologize yet?” he asks.
“Fuck no.”