Page 38 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Immediately, his grip loosened on her aching wrist. Afraid this meant her father’s wrath, and stuffing all regret for a botched diplomatic mission away, Bris hiked up her satin skirt as muchas the narrow cut would allow, fleeing like an ogre hunted her steps.
“See you soon, darling,” his voice ripped through the air and would replay in her nightmares. “I’ll be waiting for you when your husband turns his back on you again.”
She twisted, seeing the Earl moving in on her, almost casually, like an axe murderer in a slasher. “Come back to me, my dear.”
Taking a deep breath, she whipped away, not finding Deedee. Please say she’d traveled on to another room; even so, the TalkieTalk star had played the perfect distraction. Bris’s heels slid over the marble like a newborn giraffe on ice, and she stopped to rip them off, before dashing through the hallway’s palatial maze. They’d make the perfect weapons, but now she was hoping desperately not to get lost, when suddenly Phoenix materialized at her elbow.
“Your Royal Highness, were you looking for me?” His tone was professionally neutral, as if nothing had happened.
“No!” she gasped, still in shock as she rubbed her aching wrist where purple bruises were already forming. “Not you…” Her nose wrinkled in fury and disbelief. Why would her father expose her to such scandal and abuse at the Earl’s brutal hands? “Thank you for that enlightening lesson in court politics. I won’t be requiring any more tutorials in the future.”
Shooting away from this traitor, she stormed through the hallway, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her completely. She just wanted to cry! Why had Achilles abandoned her now, of all times? And what was this talk of him possibly still working with the Myrdons? Her body felt cold and prickly all at once.
She noticed Phoenix followed her like a persistent shadow—now he was doing his job, and the problem was that he’d been doing it before too. The ballroom loomed before she swung around to face him. “Why did you leave me alone with him?”She kept her voice low to avoid attracting attention, but couldn’t suppress the anger, fear, and revulsion coursing through her.
Phoenix muttered something about following her father’s orders.
She knew it! The horror of her worst suspicions becoming reality crashed over her. Her fingers curled into fists. “Are you actually suggesting that my father wanted me to… work with that—that creep?”
He hesitated far too long while terrible possibilities raced through her mind like panicked rabbits until finally he shook his head. “Never! These are the low lives he warned you about.”
An object lesson? Or a test? Knowing her father, it was both. She let out a shiver of disgust. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“It won’t be necessary.”
They entered the ballroom where guests immediately turned toward her, their chatter dying as they began whispering among themselves. She noticed the open balcony doors where Achilles had disappeared with Charisse. They still hadn’t returned.
Perhaps they’re mixing business with pleasure as we speak?
A wave of utter despair washed over her as the Earl’s unholy prophetic words shook her to the core—betrayed by everyone who was supposed to protect her. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most. She couldn’t depend on anyone!
“We’ll leave thepoliticalalliances to your husband,” Phoenix said, his raised eyebrow the only sign of his disapproval. “If you cannot secure his attentions, then he would do well to learn discretion.”
Bris’s cheeks burned with shame.Foolish little doormat, accepting abuse from everyone.Why am I being such a stupid dishrag?
That was it! She was not part of King Henry VIII’s court! She was dragging Achilles away from that home-breaker even if she had to grab him by his thick, unruly hair like a caveman.
He might not love her, but he couldn’t just… just… No! When the cat’s away, the mice will play—the Earl had demonstrated that principle perfectly. Hadn’t Achilles promised Venice he’d protect her? Ignoring the part of her that didn’t want him to love anyone else, she broke away from Phoenix and stalked toward the balcony to find her wayward husband.
She was putting down some rules!
Chapter Twelve
“Ifearwhatyouwoulddo if you learned the truth.” Charisse was strangely hesitant to tell him anything about his father. “I meant it as a warning to get you out of here, not as an invitation to follow your father’s footsteps. You could get killed.”
Achilles had no patience for her concern. “Do you know what happened?”
“I suspect it… only,” she admitted. “The things I heard… well, I could never live with myself if they happened to you too.” The red silk of her dress caught the moonlight streaming through the balcony doors, bringing out the warm flush in her face. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up, the back of her fingers brushing against his cheek with the softness of butterfly wings. “I would do anything for you, Achilles. You know I would.” Her blue eyes searched his face with desperate longing, as if memorizing every line and shadow.
His stomach clenched in reaction. This felt strangely like playing with the Goddess Calypso—she teased him with everything he thought he wanted while keeping him trapped on her island.
His phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, vibrating against his chest like an angry wasp.
“You should get that,” she said, though her voice carried disappointment.
The sound of his phone could have been a mere insect for as much as it interested him. Every sense was concentrated on her—Charisse’s tongue had turned to stone. Strange, since she’d dangled the secrets behind his father’s assassination over him like bait, though now she swayed closer, her lips parting slightly as if she expected something entirely different from him than answers about murder and betrayal. She still wasn’t over him and he had to work through that to get at the truth.
“Tell me what stories your father’s been telling you,” he whispered, his voice felt rough with desperation.
