Page 90 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Now Charisse’s eyes were on the crown, wide with horror. Neither of them were dancing anymore, just standing likestatues on the ballroom floor, watching Bris surrounded by well-wishers. “Can you warn her?” she whispered. “Stop this?”
Once again, all roads led to the Island of Aeaea. He’d go there now, shake his father out of whatever tree he was hiding in and if that didn’t stop him? Kill him with his bare hands—and that would leave Bris unprotected. He couldn’t leave her behind in this court of cutthroats. That meant taking her with him and hiding her where no one could find her.
“Charisse,” he said urgently. “Did you take a helicopter here?” She nodded, confusion creasing her soft features. “I need to borrow it. I’m going to Aeaea!”
She covered a gasp with her hand. Bris had given him tonight to do whatever he thought was necessary. Did she mean it? Would she go with him?
The music swelled to its crescendo and died away, replaced immediately by the ceremonial trumpets announcing the coronation’s beginning.
It was happening already. His heart danced around like a cowboy dodging bullets. If Chises Mnon thought he could outrun tonight’s threat by starting early, well… fat chance!
“I’ve got to take my wife out of here.” And he didn’t have much time.
Charisse exhaled slowly, her lashes temporarily concealing the emotion darkening her expression. “My feelings haven’t changed for you. You know that, right? I just need to know. Is there anything between us?”
He hesitated, already knowing the answer, and not having enough time to find a diplomatic way of telling her. “I’m sorry, Charrise. I love my wife.”
“Lords and ladies, distinguished guests.” Chises Mnon stepped forward, his substantial frame commanding attention as he raised his hands for silence. “Tonight, we witness the dawnof a new era for Tirreoy. My daughter, Briseis Mnon Tyndarian, will take her rightful place as your sovereign.”
Achilles shifted. Was he too late? Deedeelicious’s camera phone found center stage as the crowd murmured appreciatively, though he noticed how Bris’s hands trembled slightly as she curtsied to acknowledge their applause.
He should be up there with her. Forget propriety and forget whatever insulting message Chises Mnon was sending by not demanding his presence with his wife—she was too exposed.
Bodyguards were positioned strategically; Polly’s tight smile; unfamiliar faces among the security detail—almost all of them strangers! That was why keeping Phoenix for so long had been a mistake—they’d needed someone they trusted who also happened to be capable.
Would Peder be enough? He spotted his friend moving through the crowd, his broad shoulders and dark hair so similar to Achilles’s own that guests did double-takes as he passed. There was one man he truly trusted, someone who’d proven his loyalty through years of friendship.
Charisse’s fingers brushed his arm, and he glanced down to meet her resolute gaze. “Yes… Achilles. Take our helicopter.” Gratitude crashed over him, weighted with the knowledge of what she was sacrificing—her resources, her safety, perhaps even her heart—to help him save his wife. She nodded, lips pressed with grim determination.
“Promise me you won’t get yourself killed, okay? My father has this cottage in Aeaea—you could hide out there while you figure things out. There’s food, guns… if you need them! No one will bother you there. I’m texting you the coordinates now!”
He studied the tender lines of her face glistening against the lights of the chandeliers—maybe she wasn’t an angel, but she sure was a good friend.
The first sounds came from near the dais—a scuffle, raised voices, the distinctive crack of something breaking. Achilles turned toward the commotion, the world narrowing to a single point as he watched Peder tackling one of Bris’s security men… and then another joining the fray, who was definitely not on their side.
Peder’s voice cut through the ceremonial music: “The security team—they’ve been compromised! Infiltration Protocol Alpha!” The Tirrojan military code echoed across the ballroom as his whole body tensed. Their own security had been turned against them.
An instant later, the world exploded. The force of the blast threw him to his knees, the marble floor trembling beneath him like an earthquake. His ears rang with the deafening roar, and smoke filled his lungs as debris rained down. The sensation transported him back to his days with the Myrdon forces—the chaos of battle, the acrid smell of explosives, the way time seemed to slow. His heart slammed against his ribs as one thought consumed him: Was Bris alive?
The ballroom plunged into darkness.
Emergency lighting flickered on, casting everything in hellish red shadows. Guests screamed and stampeded toward the exits in blind panic. Glancing over at Charisse, he saw that she’d already fled from his side. Her father clutched her in the madness—their reunion flickering in and out of sight under the strobing emergency lights like a broken film reel.
Achilles fought through the human tide threatening to carry him away, his eyes locked on Bris. Desperation clawed at his chest with each second that he couldn’t see her. His wife was getting swept along by the crowd like a leaf in a hurricane. There was no sign of her father, and the Earl had vanished in the mayhem. Another of his father’s allies or just a coward who’d deserted her? There was no way of telling!
He positioned himself in Bris’s path and caught her wrist as she stumbled past. Relief flooded through him as he felt her warmth—she was alive, she was real, and he’d never let her go again. She gasped as he pulled her into an ornate alcove behind marble columns, pressing her close against him.
Through the silk and jewels, he felt his Bris—her racing heartbeat, the familiar curve of her waist, the way she instinctively molded herself to him. This woman was his wife; she’d become a part of him, and he hadn’t even noticed until the threat of losing her became real.
“You’re not becoming queen tonight,” he rasped.Or ever!He pulled her through a side corridor, running his knee against a side table and knocking over a book with guests’ signatures. Pens clattered against a polished floor that was blissfully empty of panicking guests.
He noticed her pale face—was that from the explosions or because she feared him? Once and for all, he had to know: “Do you trust me?”
“Yes…” It came out in a cry, bursting from her with such fierceness that she actually jumped. His heart lifted. Despite her father shattering her ability to trust, despite his past with the Myrdons, for just a moment, he believed they could get through this… if he could get her out of here. “Okay, Prissy, let’s go.”
His phone buzzed, and he grappled for it. Peder’s voice crackled through, barely audible over explosions and shouting in the background: “Achilles! The bodyguards were Myrdon operatives—we’ve got three in custody, but they keep coming!” Like the ants they were! His father was taking no chances of Bris’s survival. “They were planning to grab Bris during the coronation. I can’t find her!”
“I have her!” Achilles said.
