Page 110 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Was Achilles as wrong as his father had been?
“When did Clysta decide to work with you?” she asked softly.
“When she discovered I was alive only a few short months ago.” Decades of heartbreak were compressed into those simple words.
What had Clysta thought when the man she’d worshiped vanished? What accusations and tears had flowed between them? The regret, the hopelessness of a family lost? Was O Skia aware of the abuse his wife had endured at the hands of Atreus Mnon—his worst enemy? The traitor had spun such convincing lies that even Clysta had once believed Atreus Mnon had tried to save O Skia, rather than have him killed.
Those secrets remained locked behind O Skia’s granite expression. Clysta had activated her contingency plan—the directive to “find her heart; seek the cross”—but even thatdesperate gambit seemed doomed to failure. Once again, her husband seemed prepared to surrender his family to fate.
His defeated expression suggested he’d already given them all up for dead. Old habits died hard—but so did Bris’s stubborn streak. She’d never given up on anything in her life, and she wouldn’t start now.
Slamming the intercepted message onto the scarred wooden table that dominated the chamber, she fixed him with a fierce stare. “The Myrdons are working with wealthy Americans—I know how to turn their greed against them.”
The paper crackled under her palm, its treacherous words offering the first real advantage they’d had in this deadly game. Now the question lay in what O Skia would do with it—fight in the face of impossible odds or give in to the despair that he’d surrendered to all these years.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Achillesclickedoffthecall button on his phone, staring at the screen in shock as the full scope of Charisse’s lies crashed over him. How long had she been involved in trying to overthrow his country? His mind drifted back to their first meeting on that cruise outside of Thrinacia—how she’d casually mentioned her love of ancient Tirrojan pottery, then shared his passion for deep-sea diving…
Now,thathad been impressive!
What a big dumb guy he’d been—every conversation, every shared interest, every moment of connection had been calculated to play him from beginning to end. Even more annoying? He’d never really liked her anyway. She’d been a poor man’s substitute for Bris.
No one could replace Bris, and so it had gotten to the point that he put no effort into trying. Anyone would do. He needed to show Chises Mnon his place, and Charrise had seemed halfway decent…? He hadn’t even cared enough to look that closely into who she was.
Ugh! What an idiot! And now they were onto him.
The signal receptors in his brain were crackling, trying to snap him back together to do something other than just sit there. Charisse would tell Phoenix he had a phone. What would be his next bright idea? Deedeelicious. Could he just call…? Could her viral channel even help at a time like this? His fingers slid over his screen to find speed dial.
He clicked on her number… and it was too late! The sound of approaching footsteps jolted him to attention. With fingers that felt numb, he slid the phone into his pocket and positioned his hands behind his back just as the door swung open.
Phoenix stood in the doorway, his pale eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Polly had quite a few enlightening things to share before we… dismissed her services.”
Achilles’s stomach dropped like a stone. What had they done to her? “Dismissed her services? What do you mean?”
Phoenix approached with that condescending swagger that made Achilles want to strangle the man. The rat relished his dominance, and he refused to answer, which made Achilles guess the worst. “Interesting that you were so eager to rid yourself of me when I had every intention of making your life considerably easier,” he lisped.
That was a stretch! In what world did Phoenix help anyone but himself?
“And you see, now we have a dilemma,” Phoenix continued. “You made an unfortunate misalliance. But we’ve made better plans for you now—a strategic partnership with the Myrdons, perhaps even with O Skia’s rebel forces. A comprehensive package deal, you might say.”
He literally had no idea what he was saying, but he knew it wasn’t good when Phoenix’s smile turned razor sharp. “What do you think? Do you want the people you love most to continue breathing?”
“You really know how to sweeten the deal,” Achilles muttered. There had to be some way around this nightmare, but for now he needed to appear as though he’d consider whatever rotten proposition the Myrdons threw his way.
Phoenix withdrew a silver cigarette case from his breast pocket and lit up with practiced elegance. “It’s not terribly different from the role you were already playing. We’ve even selected the perfect bride for your next political alliance.”
Was he actually serious right now? Achilles fought every instinct that screamed at him to lunge and attack to show his objections. Instead, he forced himself to take a steadying breath. “Why don’t you just liberate Aggie Mnon instead? Let him take a turn at ruling.” He’d personally pack the moron’s bags and escort him to the palace himself.
Phoenix chuckled and took a long drag, savoring both the tobacco and Achilles’s obvious discomfort. “You’d love that solution, wouldn’t you? Let’s be honest—Aggie is somewhat… volatile.” His shrewd gaze drifted to where Achilles’s hands rested. “You can stop pretending to be restrained. It’s not as if we believe you’re going anywhere.”
Achilles glowered and casually dropped his hands to his sides. “What makes you think Aggie will just disappear quietly?”
Phoenix’s secretive smile revealed nothing as he deflected another question. “Are you prepared to claim your rightful throne? It turns out Polly knew exactly where Bris was hiding. Time to collect your little princess.”
Was it true? Had they actually located Bris at the bell tower? That pit in his stomach was only burrowing deeper. Scrambling for any advantage, Achilles cleared his throat. “You realize you can’t drill off the Island of Aeaea without her cooperation—her father holds the mineral rights. Time to reconsider your strategy.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Phoenix said, clearly not caring. He moved to the door and rapped sharply, signaling his readiness for transport. Armed men in black tactical gear entered to escort Achilles out. Pushing to his feet, he shrugged their hands away with more bravado than he felt. “I’m moving. I’m moving.” He shoved through the door to the sterile corridors.
