Page 10 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
She scrambled to her bare feet, only now remembering how she’d lost her shoes as Achilles’s dark eyes traced every inch of her—from the defiant blue polish on her toes, the golden fabric that couldn’t hide her trembling before he met her eyes. She knew the instant he saw the tears because something broke in his expression before he shoved between her and her father like a human barricade. “We’re not getting married,” he said.
Her father held up his hands. “The treaty has already been made.”
“Then unmake it—no one answers for me.”
Bris could only breathe, in and out, expecting to hear the same arguments to keep Venice safe, except this time, her father’s sinister words froze her in place: “All traitors of our country will be put to death… that includes your mother.”
Achilles stiffened.
“There is only one way to spare her life,” her father said. “Marry Bris and stand beside her as prince consort. She will be queen, you will be her strength, and together your marriage will unite the warring factions in Tirreoy.”
Prince consort? That meant he’d have no real power. Achilles made a sound of disdain. “Are you for real? The Myrdon’s want your brother’s son on the throne, not Bris.”
“Aggie Mnon is… unacceptable.” Not to mention that he was in prison. “As I’m certain you remember, my brother himself proposed this union as a diplomatic solution.” Achilles and Bris were merely goldfish standing in the way of the current.
Achilles glared. “Since when did you start doing what the Myrdons want, huh?”
“Don’t question me—we all know that my brother sees you as their bridge to legitimacy, and this is the only pathway to peace.”
“By controlling me?”
“Precisely. Of course, that’s not the half of it. You see, you love my daughter, and you don’t wantanything badto happen to her.”
Bris made a sound of disbelief—half laugh, half sob. “He doesnotlo—…”
“Silence!” Her father cut her off with a motion. “If you don’t marry her, then I’ll marry her off to some other simpleton tonight and send her to the wilds of Tirreoy to fend for herself. Is that what you want?”
Achilles didn’t answer.
Desperation clawed at her throat. Bris didn’t know how she found the strength or courage to do so, but she touched his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can go on my own.”
He shook her hand away.
The rejection hit harder than her father’s laughter, which rang through the room like a whip crack. She felt Achilles’s jaw clench at the sound. Both of them shrank under that satisfied sound that had controlled them for years.
Of course, Achilles wanted nothing to do with her—he’d made his feelings crystal clear tonight, hadn’t he? Parading that blonde around, making it obvious how little Bris meant to him. The bitter truth crushed down on her: he already despised her, and now she was trapping him in the nightmare of a loveless marriage.
She knew he’d sacrifice anything to save his mother—he’d proved that before, nearly getting them all killed in the process. And yes, his twisted sense of honor would compel him to protect her too. Not because he wanted her, not in this lifetime, but because she was like a sister to him. A burden. A responsibility he couldn’t shake.
Her stomach churned with self-loathing. How could she let him destroy his life for Prissy, the spoiled princess, now ice queen? But what choice did either of them have? Venice would die. Achilles’s mother would die.
Her tears fell again—hot, bitter, shameful—and he took one look at them and turned away. She recognized that familiar sign in the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his neck corded with barely contained fury. He was trying not to explode, trying to be the honorable man who would sacrifice everything, even his happiness, for duty.
His shoulders were stiff as he advanced on her father. “If I agree to this,” his voice was deadly quiet, “you’ll keep my sister safe.”
Bris let out a breath.
Her father hurriedly began making plans. “Of course! Without question.” Now that Achilles was giving in, he was all graciousness. “We’ll hire her a bodyguard immediately.”
Oh, that wouldn’t go over well! Gena would put up a fight, better than what they were doing for themselves, strangely. Achilles’s sister cherished her normal life, and a bodyguard would be impossible to explain during her charity work with impoverished families.
“We’ll take care of this business tonight. Your marriage will proceed as scheduled—priest, paperwork, witnesses all confirmed.”
Achilles’s fingers pressed into the desk, turning the knuckles white before he looked back at Bris. His face was a mixture of emotions, but she saw what stood out most—agony mixed with raw fury. Was that directed at her or her father?
Her father shuffled papers on his desk before handing him a formal contract. “Achilles, I’m prepared to offer you a substantial dowry for my daughter’s hand. Two million euros, a villa in Crete with a generous annual stipend of 200,000 euros.”
Bris stifled a gasp at the insult. That was pocket change considering Bris’s true worth. Their positions in life would be overwhelmingly lopsided.
