Page 82 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Her breath caught, imagining they were in a world where she could believe him, wishing that he hadn’t sounded soeager to run away with Charisse during that phone call; he hadn’t bothered to set that home-wrecker straight after her soft answers of waiting for him, understanding him, being there for him, no matter the consequences.
He’d thanked her for it!
Her body deflated at the memory. “Just stop already. I’m ready to stop pretending if you are. I’m onto you, okay?”
“Onto what?” It almost came out a laugh, with a desperate edge of anger and pain. “Charisse told me her father worked with mine back in the day—that’s why I called her, and I was hoping she could tell me what happened to him. I told you I think he’s still alive.”
He wasn’t!
She gulped, wondering how closely her father was listening and decided not to chance trusting anyone again. “You said I wouldn’t want you after what you were going to do…”
“Oh, you want me to come clean then?” She didn’t trust that sudden storm in his eyes, or the way he stood and came for her. He swiped up her hand in his, his jaw taking on a stubborn tilt. “I don’t want you to be queen, and I still don’t want you to be. How’s that for honesty?”
“What?” He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d suddenly jumped out the window. Her father had basically accused Achilles of plotting this exact same thing, and he was admitting it freely? “How will you stop me from getting my crown?” she asked.
“In every way I can,” he told her bluntly. “I swore I’d do everything I could to get you out of here. The Earl of Alexopoulos won’t be putting his hands all over you again if I can help it!”
For one wild, irresponsible moment, her heart leaped at the thought of freedom, to be just Bris, running away with the man she loved, away from manipulations, and yes, even a crown!
“C’mon, Prissy,” his hand tightened on hers, and his voice took on that genuine, sincere tone when he was done playing, done with fighting. “Let’s get out of here… together! We’ll sneak Gena out too!” His eyes strayed to the window where her father’s helicopter was hidden behind the trees. “I’ll fly you out of here. Just say the word, and we’ll never look back!”
Could it really be so easy? They could just pack up and leave these people who depended on her—and how could she even consider that? Bris stood between them and the shadow government lying in wait to drain them of every resource they had…
The Myrdons would love to see her go! And without her father’s protection, there would be no pawns, no tricks, no checkmates to stop Achilles from falling victim to those terrorists’ every whim.
Shewasa child—such a gullible, naïve, lovesick child. Achilles might not love her, but some things couldn’t be faked—his guilt for one. If the Myrdons gained control over him through his recklessness, he’d blame himself forever, especially if anyone got hurt; he’d punish himself like her father used to do to him, and he’d hate himself even more, if that was possible. The passion that drove him would be gone, and he’d turn into a shell of what he was now.
No one would care, not the Myrdons if they won this war, not her father if he remained undefeated. Whoever wielded control over him would make him into their soulless, hollow slave.
But she cared… she cared, even if she had to make him think she didn’t.
Her father was right. The Earl was a far better companion for Bris—cold, untouchable, without a heart to break. It was time to make sure that no one could get to Achilles again, even if her father thought she was an incompetent child. “I think… Charisse is more your style.”
His fingers loosened over hers. “Are you serious right now?”
“Of course—she knows all about yourdaddy.” And yes, she meant to hurt him with that, noticed his wince and still kept going: “Better go to her and listen to whatever sweet nothings she plans to whisper in your ear. I think you’re perfect for each other actually.”
He was being too quiet, not arguing, not agreeing, not moving. He was watching her—really watching her in a way that made her feel like he could see through the spite and straight into her heart, boiling the blood in her veins into an uncomfortable molten lava. “No,” he said finally. “You’re trying to push me away, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question; just a statement with enough fire behind it to make her hold her breath. “Tell me what’s really wrong. I don’t believe for a second that you ever thought I’d abandon you… not when we have what we have!”
How dare he refuse to take the easy way out she was offering him? How dare he see through her lies? Not even her father could see that far! She backed away from him to stop herself from giving in and telling him everything. “Just leave me alone!”
“Bris… listen to me!” He caught up to her in two quick strides, backing her gently against the wall. His good arm braced against the doorframe beside her. His eyes were fierce with urgency, desperate with some knowledge that made her blood run cold. “I don’t care if your father is listening in on us now—I hope he is… because I need to say this—this coronation can’t happen on Christmas Eve—your life is in danger.”
The warning hung between them like a death sentence. Hewascorresponding with the Myrdons—her father was right about that—and they wanted her dead. This wasn’t a concerned message, this was a threat, whether he knew it or not.
And they were both helpless chess pieces to these dueling forces.
“Don’t do this, Bris,” he said. “It’ll get you killed!”
“I hope it does!” The words tore from her throat as she tried to push past him. He tried to reach for her, only for that sling to get in his way.
That’s when she saw something wild flash in his eyes—raw fury mixed with physical pain as he yanked the sling over his head with a sharp, violent motion. He bit back a grimace to find her with both hands, keeping her there with him for just an agonizing moment longer. Oh, heaven help her! She wanted to stay! “You can’t mean that!” he said. “Listen to me, Bris. No one will lay a finger on you!”
The sight of him literally hurting himself in his need to keep her from danger, only confirmed what she already knew—caring about her, even in his own way, would destroy him.
“No… please, I’m so bored with this conversation already! I don’t need your help.” She whipped away, throwing in a toss of her hair to show him how little his speech moved her, her heart shattering with every step.
He didn’t have to know how much she wanted to take him up on his offer and run for that helicopter as fast as their legs could carry them.
