Page 43 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
She wasn’t going to relive that public humiliation, but she found herself frozen as Deedee’s sickeningly sweet voice invaded their bedroom: “Uh oh, trouble in paradise? Our two friends don’t look like they’re ever coming back!”
“If you call me Bestie one more time…”
Bris couldn’t take another second of this torture. Gathering up her silk blankets and feather pillows, she threw them overher shoulder and marched toward the sitting-room to claim that abandoned couch.
“Spill the tea, Queen Bee. Inquiring minds want to know—what’s the real drama with your missing husband?”
“I don’t know.”Did she really sound so utterly broken? Her heart twisted with fresh shame. She’d given everything away with her defeated tone, laid her wounded heart bare for millions to dissect.“It’s honestly not as big of a deal as you want to make it.”
“Your Royal Highness.”
Bris swung the door shut behind her. Deedee had caught everything, even Phoenix’s suspicious timing in leading her away to face the predatory earl.
“Uh oh… looks like we have our own drama brewing with our Royal Princess. She’s also disappeared. So mysterious, amirite?”
Bris glanced at the sitting-room door that hadn’t closed entirely, unable to face the walk of shame required to shut it, especially as she listened to Deedee narrate her search for the missing princess.“What do you think of this royal scandal, friends? Think we can track down our spicy Cinderella?”
Her stomach churned so violently she felt nauseous. Throwing her blankets over the unforgiving couch, she collapsed onto it and tried to muffle the torture with her pillow.
But then came the worst part:“Bris? You back here, Bestie? I know I heard her voice? Library, anyone?”
Her face drained of all warmth, leaving her cold and clammy with horror. There was a rustling of silk skirts and the click of heels on marble. That’s when she’d fled the library in a panic. Deedee had captured every humiliating detail.
“See you soon, darling. I’ll be waiting for you when your husband turns his back on you again.”The Earl’s sensual voice dripped like a lover’s promise wrapped in velvety threats. Thencame that chilling moment of silence before his final command:“Come back to me, my dear.”A seductive command. A deadly warning. How would Achilles read it? All at once mocking laughter sounded through the room.
Bris’s skin crawled as she listened to his amusement for the first time. The man was a predator. He enjoyed her fear. Her shame felt suffocating.
“Oh, hi! Deedeelicious, is it?”The Earl’s moment on camera still wasn’t over.“I think it’s time to pack your bags and head home to America. I don’t appreciate your interference.”
The sound cut off abruptly, flooding the room with oppressive silence broken only by Achilles’s ragged breathing, and then came a raw, primal roar of pure rage that seemed to echo off the walls. It was the sound of a killer, animalistic and terrifying in its intensity.
She lowered her pillow, listening as heavy footsteps moved across the bedroom floor. Her husband was coming for her.
“Achilles?”
He appeared in the doorway like a wild demon, every muscle coiled with barely contained violence. The civilized veneer had been stripped away, leaving something savage and untamed. His burning gaze immediately sought her injured wrist. She quickly hid it behind her back.
“I’m going to kill that snake,” he said with deadly quiet.
She scrambled to her feet, panic making her clumsy as she recognized that angry glint in his dark eyes. “Don’t you dare.” She pressed her palms against his bare chest, and though he tried to move past her to stomp out whatever threat the Earl was to him, she refused to let him go. “Please, stop!” She wove her arms under his, holding on with desperate strength until he surrendered with a shuddering breath and crushed her against him.
He didn’t have to say a word. She knew his fury wasn’t directed at her—he was being his usual protective self. His arms became steel bands around her, stealing her breath as she realized how completely she was enveloped by his strength. His heart thundered against her cheek while his hands traveled down her back to grip her waist.
“It’s okay!” she said. “It’s okay… I’m fine!”
He made the sound of a wounded animal—raw and broken. “I never should’ve left you alone. He never would’ve touched you if I’d been there… holding your hand like I should’ve been, making you laugh until you forgot all about stupid political games.”
Oh, what a world that would’ve been! She allowed herself to melt into him, wishing desperately that this fierce devotion stemmed from love rather than guilt. And she was being such an idiot right now! Her reckless heart wouldn’t survive another encounter with him! He cared about her, certainly, but it wasn’t enough to make him truly want to be her husband. Achilles saw her as a favorite little sister, and he refused to be caged by anyone or anything.
That much was clear from tonight’s disaster.
But the painful truth was that she was to blame for believing in fairy tale endings. And now they were truly trapped—but were they? “This wasn’t fair to you. None of this was fair to you. You can go with Charisse…”
He groaned like she’d physically wounded him. “The next time you suggest I cheat on my wife, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you away from Tirreoy…”
Her body sagged with frustrated defeat. Why wouldn’t he just admit the truth? She was painfully aware of her own shortcomings—that he didn’t trust her, that he saw her as a spoiled brat. “You can tell me anything,” she pleaded. Their brutal fight in the garden was the proof she needed that he regretted their marriage. “We used to be such good friends.”
He turned silent, something dangerous and beautiful burning in the depths of his dark eyes as they studied her face with startling intensity.
