Page 17 of His Prince

“Would you be able to show me where the gardens are now that we’re done, Nina? Mikhail told me about them,” I explain as I dry my hands off, trying to push those negative thoughts away. I can stew on them later when I’m all alone.

Nina wipes her hands on a light gray towel and tosses it on the counter.

“Gardensis one word for it. More like a burial ground,” she murmurs, and I feel my heart sink even more. Is this another thing Mikhail lied to me about? “Go up and change, bring a jacket. You’ll catch a chill.”

I nod and do as she says, walking to our room and pulling on some pants and an oversized lavender sweater, feeling the need to hide myself from it all. I want to slip under the covers of that king-sized bed and sleep for a week, but then again, I don’t have time to do that. I have a garden to inspect and lunch to make.

Perhaps I’ll buy some paint for the dreary gray walls inside and paint them a rainbow of colors.

Perhaps some of the bodyguards could be persuaded to help me if I bribe them with more Russian snacks.

That thought percolates in my mind as I meet Nina by the front door, her face drawn, her foot tapping impatiently on the muted marble floor.

“Finally. You took your time. This way,” she hisses and then marches out the front door. I follow along, the cool breeze nipping at me. My breath puffs out as I nearly jog alongside her. She’s shorter than me but has the legs of a horse and the drive of a mule. As she rounds a corner, moving through a smattering of trees and overgrown hedges, I finally see it and my steps falter.

“Oh my god,” I say, my voice cracking along with my heart.

Before me sits a ruined plot of land, replete with broken fountains, crumbling walls and overgrown weeds. There’s not a flower in sight, not a hint of green. Nina was right, it’s an empty plot of land, a burial ground of broken dreams.

It’s horrendous.

“I have a garden, just for you.”

Fucking liar.

“This needs a lot of work,” I whisper, feeling my eyes start to water, my nose stinging harshly.

Nina huffs and folds her arms across her chest. “More than a lot of work. It’s best to just leave it, let it rot.”

I purse my lips and the sadness and anger mix within me, creating something ugly. Loathing.

Hatred.

“I can do it,” I whisper, swiping at my eyes. “I can make this better.”

“Some things don’t ever change, no matter the type of work you put into it.”

“I won’t give up,” I tell her and then tuck my hands into my sweater pockets and turn around, marching back to the house, my phone in my trembling hands.

There’s still no word from Mikhail, no updates, no response. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d blocked my number.

Well, fuck him then. If he left me here alone, then I’ll take that as a sign I can do what I want.

I glance around as I stand on the wide porch, searching for cameras. I don’t see them but I make sure he doesn’t see me cry. Pulling up an app on my phone, I get to work ordering plants and seeds, new garden decorations, and a slew of paint and wallpaper.

I don’t even use the credit card he gave me on the plane.

“Use it for whatever you’d like, sólnyshko.”

Fuck no. I use my own money, the cash I have sitting in a trust fund my father gifted me. I use my own money because changing the entirety of this place will be my goddamn pleasure.

I trudge toward the guard’s apartments, shifting the basket of flowers in my arms as Casey grumbles under his breath. He found me in the living room, staring out the window a few hours after breakfast. I tried to get him to leave and take the day off, to let me stew in peace, but he adamantly refused.

Loyal as always.

“You don’t need to come with me, you know?”

“And leave you to those horny pariahs? No. I’m going with you. The fact you were alone yesterday…”

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