Page 93 of His Prince

I envision it, Mikhail slicing his sobbing wife’s neck. Was it in our bedroom? In the bathroom? The shower?

“The garden.”

That’s even worse. Those two words have me sinking to the ground and placing my head between my legs.

“Oh god.”

“Do not be so dramatic. Like I said, she deserved it.”

“She was his wife.”

He snorts and then chokes, probably from inhaling the crumbs of the cookie, but I can’t even focus on anything right now. I knew what I was getting into, marrying a mafia man, but I didn’t realize the man I married was evil. A different kind of monster.

I breathe deeply through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to get myself moving. My dad should be here any moment. My brother. They can’t see me like this. They can never know.

My mind whirls as I push myself up, Ivan forgotten as I slip from the room, avoiding everyone. I find my way to an unused guest room and slide down the wall, letting my mind reel from this information as I pull my knees up to my chest. I pull out the picture of Katarina and stare at her, those big blue eyes, that beautiful face.

“Did you really deserve it?” I ask her, but she doesn’t respond. Just continues to stare back at me.

I tuck her away and lean my head against the wall, trying like hell to figure out what to do. What the hell do I do?

All I know is I need to get out of this marriage contract before I meet the same fate. Because if Mikhail could kill his own wife, I’m not safe.

20

MIKHAIL

Angel won’t even look at me, his body drawn away from mine, his shoulders hunched forward. He’s smiling and seems happy, chatting with his father, Anthony, and his father’s boyfriend, Tatum, but he won’t even meet my gaze.

Something twists inside of me, a tightening of my lungs. Something’s changed and I don’t know what. I’ll have to ask him when I have a chance to breathe, to form my thoughts. I don’t usually get vibes, and refuse to even utter that word, but that’s exactly what it is. Vibes. Bad ones. And I want to ask him about it, but currently, the house is filled with so much commotion that my head is ringing.

Tatum, Anthony’s brat, eyes me suspiciously, and I find myself shifting on my feet.

He seems to know something I don’t. Has Angel spoken to him about me? Has he told him what’s wrong?

I don’t like that. Not at all.

I should know. Angel ismyhusband.

And don’t even get me started on Casey. He’s hovering aroundAngel like a fly on shit. I want to put a bullet between that man’s eyes. I would too, if it wouldn’t upset Angel so much. That man is far too protective and much too handsome to be in Angel’s space all the time.

Perhaps they have a connection, something deeper than I could ever give Angel.

I shove that thought away. There’s never been any indication of that. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me at the moment. Everything is all muddled. Besides the bracelet and the dying rose found in the tunnels, there was no indication that anyone was ever there.

Perhaps it is a ghost, Katarina coming back to haunt me. Roses were always her favorite. She often kept them in a vase on the dining table.

I feel like I’m losing my mind.

My gaze swivels over to another bodyguard lingering near Tatum. He’s tall with broad shoulders and strong arms, they nearly break the fabric of his jacket with the strain of keeping them inside. “Teddy, it’s so good to see you,” Angel says softly, pulling the large man into a hug.

Right, I remember him. Tatum’s bodyguard. He doesn’t speak. Ever. And right now is no different. He’s eerily silent, but he sees everything. Almost too much.

And I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now.

“Hello, Mikhail. Nice to see you,” Anthony says, holding out his hand. I shake it and he squeezes roughly, my bones popping. I’ve always known Anthony was not to be messed with and that he adores his sons. If I’ve done something to upset Angel, and he’s told his father, there’s a good chance I’ll end up with a missing tongue.

“And you as well,” I reply, shaking his back just as roughly. Not that he gives any indication I’ve squeezed his hand too tightly. He doesn’t even flinch.