Page 1 of His Prince

PROLOGUE

They say love conquers all, but what if I’ve conquered love? What if the concept of love is nothing more than the shit beneath my feet? What if instead of love, hate does it better? The cruelty of it took down cities and souls for millennia. Love did fuck all.

Hate. Yes.

That’s better than my naïve dream, once upon a time. To love and be loved.

Well, fool me once.

But twice?

I’ll burn the fucking world down.

1

ANGEL

“I’m so nervous,” I admit to myself, the exhaustion finally washing over me. The wedding between Mikhail and me was rushed and not quite what I expected—I had dreams of flowers and doves and butterflies—but I can’t complain about how it turned out, especially being so quick. I had my family there, my friends. I couldn’t ask for more.

All in all, it went swimmingly.

Mikhail was quiet, nervous almost. He barely even made eye contact with me. But I know him. He wanted this, he wants me. There were times when our gazes met and I saw it, that possession, the yearning.

“I vow to love you, protect you, murder for you.”

After the ceremony, we were able to mingle for a short time, but before I could really say goodbye to everyone who attended, I was whisked away onto a plane by my bodyguard, Casey.

And Mikhail Ivanov.

My husband.

That word makes my heart flutter, despite how cold and stony he acted while saying our vows. I know he was just anxious—he’s not much of a people person, afraid of speaking candidly in front of an audience. And he was on display, in front of everyone who matters to me.

But now that we’re at his home, it’s just us. Alone. Together, finally.

Everything will be good now. I know it.

I tighten my sheer robe across my waist and glance at myself in the mirror one more time. My cheeks are flushed, my lips pink and glossy.

I hope he likes what he sees.

He never had an issue before.

Weeks full of nights where he’d watch me touch myself, his gaze intent through the phone, his pupils blown out, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips.

“Come for me, my little Angel.”

I run a hand through my blond hair and make my way out of the bathroom to the unfamiliar bedroom. He insisted that we use this one for our first time, telling me it would be more comfortable than our bedroom. I don’t understand it—why we couldn’t fuck in our bed in our room, but I just let it be. The last twenty-four hours have been exhausting—the whirlwind wedding, flying across the country to get here. There’s no need for arguments on the first day. That’s not how I want to spend our first night together.

I stop in the middle of the room and my eyes land on Mikhail, who is standing by the window, a drink of cognac in his hand. His tie is loosened and his shirt unbuttoned, the gray, overcast skies casting a gloomy pallor over him.

Even so, the sight of him set against the backdrop of my new home causes my cock to twitch in appreciation.

He’s so handsome. With his perfectly combed brown hair, his tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves, the way his muscles flex beneath the fabric, bunched and ready topounce.

He’s pure man.

My man.

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