Page 7 of His Prince

I hold on to that as she washes my hair and then lets me rinse off before drying me with an oversized towel.

My eyes catch hers in the mirror and she just tuts softly, leading me to the closet and handing me a white robe. One of many.

What this space is dawns on me, and I feel myself shrivel slightly.

“Is this the room he uses for his other guests?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he bring me here?” I ask, and her lips form a tight line.

“It’s best you realize that Mikhail will never love you. He’s a cold, hard man. It’s best you know this now while you still can.”

I swallow as I tug the robe on, feeling the soreness in my ass prickle up my spine. It’s not a delicious ache anymore, but something ugly and raw. I want it to go away.

“You have to be mistaken,” I whisper as she opens the door and nods at it.

“I am never mistaken,” she says and then pushes me out of the room in a hurry, probably to make space for the next guest.

The thought of it makes my stomach churn, and I lean against the wall, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Breathing through my nose, I right myself, knowing that I need to gather myself before finding Mikhail and getting some much-needed answers. This was not in the contract when I agreed to marry him.

I read through it.

Even though I didn’t think I needed to—because Itrustedhim—I fucking read it.

I blink back tears and run a hand through my hair, feeling my ass twinge as I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Anger pulses through me, dulling the ache of sadness.

I’m going to change, right myself, and then find him to make him fucking explain.

Yes, I’ll make him fucking explain. And I won’t cry while doing it.

I stomp up to our bedroom and pull on my clothes with a vengeance, trying to ignore the pain in my ass as I move. I’m in disbelief and horrified. Did Mikhail only fuck me on our wedding night to consummate the marriage? To make sure that his end of the contract was solidified?

That’s so unlike him.

Unless I didn’t know him at all.

For a moment I feel sick, but I take a deep breath and push it aside.

No. I’ve gotten to know him over the past several months.

Iknowhim.

Communication goes a long way. No, I won’t think the worst. Nina must be mistaken. Maybe that’s how things were before, but surely they’ll change now that he’s married. I’m his husband, we’re sharing a room for the foreseeable future, andthere’s a contract in place.

I run a comb through my damp hair, smoothing out my blouse and skinny jeans and toeing on some sneakers before taking one last look at myself and marching out of our room in search of him. The house is large, bigger than my dad’s, and quite cavernous. While the Costello estate is expansive and luxurious, it’s also full of life, color and art—it feels homey, like my mother always wanted. Unlike this place. Here, the walls are white, the floors a dull gray wood, everything is barren and cold.

I assumed the Ivanov residence would be lavish and ostentatious, but it’s not. It’s as if everything that made this a home once upon a time has been stripped bare.

I huff as I make my way down a hallway on the second floor before turning around and heading back. Obviously I went the wrong way. The rooms I peek in as I go are closed up and covered, used for guests. The unfuckable kind, I presume.

I shake that thought away as I make my way to the first floor, in search of his elusive office. There’s no one around to ask either. Where the hell are all the staff? At my father’s house, there areguards and soldiers everywhere. But here, it’s as if no one exists, just ghosts of the past.

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