Page 8 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Bris rolled her eyes. “You think you know him so well?”
“Yeah, the guy has it bad for you. He can’t stop watching you.”
Spinning around to Deedee, Bris noticed the girl filming her own sparklers with her phone camera.
“Can you hold the camera for me,” Deedee asked, as if she hadn’t just announced the most explosive thing she could since their uneasy acquaintance. “Livvy can’t help—she’s a little busy with her man right now.”
Bris didn’t move.
“I might do a piece about the two of you on my social media,” Deedee said, “… so I can crow how right I was when you twofinally tie the knot.” She giggled. “You both were hilarious giving your best man, bridesmaid speeches. Ha! I kept the camera on you the whole time and on your toenail polish—I think I’ll edit the speeches so that you’re both side by side, and I’ll cut to your longing looks at each other and everything…”
“What do you want?” Bris asked her in all seriousness. Her sparkler was sputtering out in her hand.
“More followers. Duh.”
“No, how much, I mean, for the footage? How much will you take for it?”
“Ah no, babes. I’ve got my reporter’s integrity to protect.” Deedee finished filming her dying sparklers and then turned to Bris. “And now I just caught you attempting to bribe me to keep your pride intact.”
“Relax!” Bris snapped. “I’m just trying to stop any rumors from coming out. Scandal is the last thing this family needs and… anyway, don’t you care that this might overshadow Livvy’s wedding? She’s your best friend…”
“And I want my fun. Admit it, Bris, you weren’t very nice to me on that yacht.”
“I wonder why,” Bris muttered under her breath. She was beginning to devise all sorts of ways to get the better of this harpy. In the meantime, her brother and Livvy danced down the aisle of mostly burnt-out sparklers to the tune of happy cheers.
Livvy got ready to throw her bouquet made up of ribbons, dreams, and fairy-tale endings behind her. Deedee planted herself in front of Bris, about three heads taller than her and with a reach of a basketball player. She’d try to steal the bouquet too! Nuh uh. Not without a fight she wouldn’t!
The bouquet flew in a beautiful white cloud, and Bris lunged, her bare toes springing from the smooth cement. She knocked Deedee aside. The bundle of white roses, trailing ivy, and delicate sprigs of jasmine landed in Bris’s hands with a thud.
Oh no, no, no! She’d caught the bouquet!
Too late, she saw Deedee’s camera on her and heard her laughing voice. “Oooh, next to be married! I know exactly who Bris wishes would pop the question!” Deedee spun around with that horrible camera phone of hers and caught Achilles to the side of them.
Bris’s hands gripped the bouquet in a killing grip, watching on miserably as the guy she’d loved since they were kids fumbled for Charisse’s hand like a football. Deedee gave a delighted chortle. “Oh wow! Nice cover story, hero!”
Letting out a scornful snort, Bris tore away from them all, following her brother down the aisle as he tenderly handed his bride into the limousine. They kissed as he closed the door, leaving Bris watching on wistfully.
Was this happy future in her cards or was she doomed to suffer the lonely fate of Prissy Kissy Poo? If she was being truthful, she knew the answer to that. The breeze whipped the gold fabric against her legs. Holding tightly to the fragrant flowers with one hand, she wiped at her eyes with the other, pretending they were watering her cheeks because she was so delighted.
And she was. Venice meant everything to her. He was finally becoming his own man. Everything he’d said earlier proved that.
A hand landed against her back. Expecting Gena, she jumped when she saw her father instead. He looked so much like her brother at that instant that more than anything, she wanted to lean into him and cry into his strong chest and confide in him her worries, so that he’d tell her she would be fine, like Venice would’ve. But… it had never been that way between them.
His grip moved to her arm next. “I’ll have a few words with you, Briseis.” His whisper could be a shout for how forcefully it invaded her ears.
And one thought consumed her… if Bris was unhappy now, whatever news he was about to deliver would make her even more so.
She could put up a fuss, but he’d talk to her regardless, and so she allowed him to take her up the marbled steps, past the spray of fountains and into the lavish foyer. His private study was at the top of the stairs, away from the hustle and bustle of the wedding.
He ushered her inside, giving her no chance of escape. The door closed on the celebrations, and she stood against the wall, her fingers clenched into the stems of white roses.
Her father smirked when he saw them. “You caught the bouquet, did you?”
She lifted them in a half-hearted gesture. “I’d better get on it. There was a guy making eyes at me near the tent. A Sir Jax Montgomery—who knows? It could be love.”
“Don’t play with me, Bris.” Her father’s gravelly voice immediately silenced her. He pulled out a chair. “Sit down.”
Swallowing, Bris moved as slowly as she could to the proffered chair. His hand shook on the arms, his shoulders stiff with impatience. As soon as she was within reach, he snagged her wrist and tugged her into the seat where he faced her with a glare, his strong nose an inch from hers.
