Page 97 of His Prince
I narrow my gaze at him, but he ignores me.
What the fuck is going on? When did I lose their loyalty and when was it given to Angel? Though, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Were you waiting for me? I’m sorry, I have guests,” Angel says and then blushes, introducing everyone to his father and Tatum. He even introduces Teddy, who does fuck all but nod.
“Anyways, don’t worry, I’m making dinner in a minute and Tatum is going to help?—”
“Oh god, ask Teddy to cook. He’s much better than me in the kitchen.”
Teddy blushes again, and I narrow my eyes at the broad-shouldered man. He needs to stop fucking turning pink anytime anyone compliments him. It makes him look weak.
“Yes, you can help, Teddy-bear,” Angel says, linking an arm through his and leading everyone forward. And everyone follows my husband, the pied piper. And don’t think I don’t notice how they stub out their cigarettes before entering as well.
Not that they ever gave me that courtesy.
Anthony chuckles as we walk behind them all, and I glower at him.
“Seems you’ve lost control of the ship.”
“Seems you have too.”
He shrugs and then straightens his jacket. “It’s better when you just accept it. Life is much easier when you do.”
“I’m no fool.”
Anthony cocks an eyebrow at me. “That’s yet to be seen.”
And then he walks into the house, leaving me trailing after everyone else. I’m the last in my own home, the forgotten crumb in the corner of the floor.
The house is rowdy and overwhelming. Even Ivan makes his way out of his smelly hole to socialize. Or to eat the food being made. Like a sewer rat.
And the entire time he cooks, Angel ignores me.
Continues to not even look my way.
If a stranger walked into this house, they wouldn’t even know we were married. They’d assume I was a mere servant in the presence of a prince.
The thought makes my mood sour even more.
By the time his brother, Diablo, and his husband, Skylar, show up, I’m pushed to the far side of the kitchen, drinking straight from the bottle of cognac. No one seems to notice me anyways. I can drink straight from the container if I want to.
“Hello, Mikhail,” a bratty voice says to my right, and I glance down and see Angel’s brother, Diablo, all dark hair with fire in his eyes grinning up at me.
“Go away.”
Diablo’s smile falls into a sneer. “No. Angel seems upset. Why is that?”
I scoff, the liquid in my stomach sloshing around violently. But I’m a man, a Russian man. I can hold my liquor.
“He’s always upset with me. I do nothing right.”
“Hmm, I don’t doubt that,” he says, pulling a small handsaw from the pocket of his sweatshirt and staring at it. A moment later, he starts to file his nails with it, and I watch raptly. That can’t be good for his cuticles. “But you see, my brother loves everyone. Even when they don’t deserve it. And being his twin, I can see that he’s sad. Can feel it. We shared a womb.”
“No shit,” I say dryly.
He leans a little closer to me and that saw pokes me in the ribs. “You’re not funny, Russian mob man. And I have more of these. Packed them just in case, just for you. Do you want to lose your toes? Because I will have Skylar hold you down and I’ll cut them off. Slowly.”
I watch him before taking another swig of alcohol, my mind reeling.