Page 33 of His Prince

“No,” I reply and then turn back toward the stove. I had seen him, in our bed, my body pressed against his.

I’m regretting wearing these see-through shorts now as my dick starts to harden.

“I can see your butthole,” Ivan murmurs.

“Don’t fucking look then,” Casey bites out, and Ivan nearly chokes, turning to look at the man sitting next to him. It’s almost like he didn’t realize Casey was there.

“I was not looking. It’s just on display. Not tasteful at all. Quite rude actually.”

Casey clenches his fist, and I swear he’s about to smash Ivan’s face into the plate.

“Show a little respect, you piece of shit.”

Ivan blinks at him and adjusts his glasses. “Who are you again? You don’t look familiar.”

“I’m Angel’s bodyguard.”

He stares at him for a long moment and then turns back toward his plate of food, dismissing Casey completely. It makes Casey seethe, but I stop him from acting on his anger. I don’t need anyone getting into a fistfight on my watch. Really, I want this house to be as peaceful as it can be. Starting with no bodily injury.

“Come help me with the dishes,” I say, and Casey obediently stands up, knocking into Ivan’s seat as he goes, making him nearly topple from his chair. Ivan grumbles under his breath, righting his glasses and scraping his plate clean.

Casey smirks as he makes his way toward me and then unbuttons and takes his shirt off, handing it to me.

“Put this on. You’ve made your point,” he whispers.

But I haven’t. Mikhail hasn’t seen me yet—almost naked in front of all his men.

I want him tofeelsomething.

I want him to be angry.

But I know my dignity matters to Casey, so I take the shirt he’s offering to appease him, letting my eyes rove across the sculpted chest in front of me before reaching out and flicking his nipple.

“You are too handsome for your own good,” I say.

Casey grins at me, grabbing my shoulder affectionately just as Mikhail walks into the kitchen. What a sight we must make, Casey shirtless, his hand on me, my cheeks flushed.

But what a sight he makes as well, with his damp hair, his tight V-neck t-shirt showing off his hairy chest and huge biceps.

I hate him.

Mikhail stops near the island, his eyes narrowing as he takes Casey and me in, our bodies a little too close, our gazes too affectionate, but he says nothing. Why would he? He doesn’t care about me, or what I do.

I could probably fuck every bodyguard in this place and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

“Ivan, I need to speak to you,” he bites out.

Ivan sighs and pushes away from the island, leaving his plate mostly empty and balanced precariously on the edge of the counter. He follows his brother out of the kitchen, neither of them looking back.

When they go, I pull Casey’s shirt on, feeling small and mostly stupid before turning my gaze back to the sink. I blink back tears and swallow my sobs.

“I’ll murder him,” Casey grits out, and I shake my head, refusing to let him see how upset I am.

“Which one?” I manage to choke out.

“How about both?”

“No murder. Not yet. Please.”

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