Page 41 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“I don’t have a say?” Everything that Charisse had accused his marriage of being came to his mind in all its stark, humiliating reality—puppet, decoration, joke. “Is that how this is going to be?”
She froze, her eyes widening with something like panic. “Of course you have a say in our personal lives, but we’re dealing with my… father.”
Even if Bris handed him his liberty on a silver platter, as she seemed more than willing to do at every opportunity, the true holder of their puppet strings would always be there, controlling them from the shadows. “How long will you let your father rule this land through you? And what about me? Am I just meant to be your consort—a loyal puppy sent to provide him with an heir?”
“No!” she squeaked out. Her cheeks paled. “I mean… your title is consort, but I wouldn’t do that to you… Venice and his wife love each other, let their child rule someday!”
He took a deep breath, wondering why he’d just felt like she’d punched him in the gut, leaving him hollow and aching. He grasped at the first coherent thought he could form: “You’d let your father take your brother’s child?”
“My father isn’t immortal! We’ll get our independence soon and then you can go back to picking up chicks and passing out on yacht decks!”
A stinging summation of his life—was that what she truly thought of him? His drunken escapades had all stemmed from trying to forget his troubles and thumb his nose at authority, but now Bris only saw him as a shallow playboy. The words cut deeper than they should have. He took a deep breath to summon his unraveling patience. “I’m not waiting for your father to die to get my life back, Bris. There will always be someone willing to step into his shoes to control us.”
She laughed at the thought, but it sounded forced and brittle. “Control you? Ha! I pity anyone who tries!” More of that luxurious dark hair had escaped from her tight bun, making her look wild and beautiful in this immaculate garden.
The fiery imp was coming out, but why was her anger never directed against her father? Against Phoenix? And now against that predatory earl? Just him!
“All I’m asking is that you don’t drag me into your trouble with you!” she said. “You think you can do that?”
Quite honestly, after that speech, he had every intention of doing that and more, even if he had to throw her over his shoulder to do it. He’d start with cutting those invisible strings tying her to her father’s will. He drew closer, knowing that the unfair advantage of his height was nothing to her explosive temper. “And tell me how I become the perfect mate, Your Royal Highness?”
Her stomping foot sounded sharp against the gravel path. “How about not calling me that for starters!” She made a sound of pure frustration and whirled away from him, her skirts sliding over a curvaceous leg. Her emotions had reached that familiar boiling point where she was past coherent speech. She rushedacross the moonlit grass, back toward the party they’d both abandoned.
Talk about the rumors that would incite. And now that he knew his reputation, he’d have to live up to it. He might even enjoy what that entailed if it involved his sweet, furious little wife.
He watched her fluid movements, admiring how all of that glorious dark hair had finally escaped its tight confines to cascade down her back. His resolve to keep his promise to Venice was getting stronger. Who cared about gaining the High Consortium’s approval anymore? He’d protect Bris, but definitely not in the way she wanted him to.
He took his time returning to the ballroom. When he finally entered through the terrace doors, Bris immediately turned away from him to catch another socialite in animated conversation, though he’d caught her watching for him, her eyes bright with unshed tears and fury.
He didn’t go to her. Let her sweat, the viperous little beauty.
Instead, he searched the glittering crowd for Charisse Oshear. Catch that with your camera phone, Deedeelicious! Who cared what the gossips thought anymore? He needed allies in this war of shadows, and his ex acted like she knew the truth about his father’s assassination.
He had a feeling that solving this mystery would set him and Bris free once and for all—one way or another.
Chapter Thirteen
Itwasintentional!
Bris was so mad she could spit. Achilles had found Charisse again and tried his best to get her alone to “talk”… after everything Bris had said. He truly was trying to hurt her. The only thing that seemed to stop her husband was his ex’s hawkish father who monopolized the conversation with talk of doing business with Tirreoy.
Bris was torn between tackling Achilles out of anger and bawling her eyes out. She ran a brush through her hair at the vanity. This time, she’d left his oversized rugby shirt alone and found something more queenly—her white silk banyan robe felt like cascades of liquid moonlight over her legs.
And Achilles’s eyes kept running over her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Strange that covering herself more brought her more of his attention than before.
Even stranger, now that her beast lived in a palace, he still refused to be tamed. He’d stripped off his shirt the first moment they’d returned to their suite after that disastrous ball and had gotten into his shorts, hardly caring that she had to scurry from the room to give him enough privacy to change.
“I told Phoenix to give you your own room,” she informed him as soon as the coast was clear. She poked her head through the ornate doorframe, feeling like an overcautious deer emerging from the forest. “So, you’re free to go.”
“Sorry, the blue suite was found unsuitable… due to renovations, flooding…” Achilles informed her with casual indifference, “which means your father vetoed your pathetic rebellion. Keep up.” He slid out a piece of pizza from the almost empty cardboard box that he’d thrown on the pristine comforter, like they weren’t experiencing a honeymoon that belonged in a political thriller… or was that a slasher?
The question was who would turn out to be the murderer?
“Don’t eat on my bed,” she grumbled.
He ignored her request completely. “This is great stuff. You should try a bite.”
Yeah, she got it! He wasn’t going to become one of her servile subjects. Obviously! She didn’t know what to do with this new dynamic. This was usually when she broke up with someone—set them free, soshecould be free. Divorce was completely offthe table. “Then why don’t you take it to your precious couch?” she asked. “It’s calling to you… aren’t you exhausted… as usual?”
