Page 18 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
If anything resembled Cinderella’s palace, this was it! And now her shoes were hopelessly missing… the irony wasn’t lost on her. The servants outside were too trained to look askance, but she could sense their discomfort anyway.
“Achilles? I can’t find my…”
His hands found her and he swept her out of the helicopter in one fluid motion, lifting her against his chest like she weighed nothing. She let out a breathless gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as her heart raced against her ribs. The rest of the air left in her poor lungs left in a whoosh when she saw his smoldering eyes.
Oh man, no one does a smolder like Achilles!
Did the guy have no idea how he was looking at her or—or holding her? Maybe he did? He was playing the role of groom to perfection. He had every intention of carrying his bride over the threshold.
The staff would definitely think they were real newlyweds with this act, and good thing! She hadn’t realized until now how awful it would be for any of them to figure out that he’d been forced to marry her.
How could she win over a country if she couldn’t even win over her own husband?
The servants gathered the few possessions they’d left behind while Achilles carried her up the walkway, following the footman to the main entrance. She clung to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his steps as he traveled over the long pathway to the larger-than-life palace and up a series of marble steps.
Now she was starting to feel sorry for him. “I promise I can walk if your arms get tired,” she said.
“Don’t even think about it.”
She supposed he was out to prove himself too. That was fine by her… mostly. Feeling guilty, she pulled one of her arms free from his neck and began to knead his shoulder. His lips curved up in a lopsided grin in response. “You do that anymore, and I might drop you.”
Oh, was that torture? She was trying to help, but now that she knew… well, she resisted her instinct to tease him in front of the others. It had been a long night, and all she wanted to do was to curl up in her bed and… no, it was his bed too.
Uh oh. This was their first night together. She wasn’t absolutely naïve about what her father expected from her, which was why this felt worse. Of course, she was already notorious for being clueless in relationships, the complete opposite of Achilles who had never met a heart he couldn’t break, and now her poor romantic soul was shivering in fear of Achilles’s rejection.
She’d gone on that shopping spree earlier to find a chic wedding dress—anything that wouldn’t make Achilles recoil in disgust at the sight of her. She’d thought the cinched waist with the tiny pearl buttons was so cute!
Did he think she was cute in it?
She’d always been close to Achilles, but not this close. Ugh! They weren’t ready for any of this! Bris hadn’t thought any of this through, which of course seemed stupid, but she’d been blindsided by everything at once, and before she knew it, she’d bought the unrealistically frivolous dress and with it, the dream of a loving marriage.
Her heart quickened at the thought. Was it even possible to make him love her?
Her husband carried her through the palace entrance into a vast entry hall. They stared at the mausoleum they would now call home. Her ancestors lived here; her family’s rule could be traced clear back to the Georgian empire… which was why this place looked like it could belong to Marie Antoinette.
And she was still in Achilles’s arms. Her man was a beast! He still hadn’t dropped her. She listened to his low voice rumble through his chest: “This is where we’re staying, huh?”
She met his eyes, and startled when she noticed him watching her, not this lavish palace. For how out of breath he was making her with his steady gaze, she might as well have been the one to drag him up the stairs and not the other way around. Her heart was taking over her throat in a stranglehold. “Can—can I walk now? My feet are getting cold.”
“Oh, sorry.” His lip curled. “I forgot you were there.”
“You did not!” She elbowed him for his teasing, and he released her, just in time for three men to approach them in full uniform, complete with gold ribbons across their chests and fringed epaulets swinging from their shoulders.
The one in the front bowed low. “Welcome home, Your Royal Highnesses.” At least he wasn’t using more exalted titles like “Your Majesty,” but then again Bris wasn’t queen yet. They were in a transitional period before they proved themselves worthy for coronation. “It has been too long since those with your exalted blood have graced these halls,” the older man continued. How was he keeping a straight face? “Long live the Tyndarian Royalty!”
The uniformed men behind them repeated it, a little too fanatically for her comfort.
The staff streaming into the foyer behind them did the same thing.
Hesitating before the bowed assembly, she wondered how to get them to stand and act like real human beings again. Her father had literally thrown her out into the wild to fend for herself. Sure, she had some training on protocol and manners, but she was completely out of her element as their queen-to-be.
Exchanging glances with Achilles, she cleared her throat. “Please, be at ease.” She had no idea what she was doing, but magically they stood at attention again.
The man who had spoken first took her hand in his. “My name is Sir Phoenix of Stavros, appointed to royal chancellor, and I am at your service.”
Ah, here was their babysitter, their guard dog, and their father’s spy. Venice had nearly spat out his name at his wedding when he’d said that he was discontinuing his services. Apparently, that was what put a target on his back, and so she plastered a fake smile on her lips. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Phoenix.”
“The honor is entirely mine, Your Royal Highness,” Phoenix replied with another slight bow. “I have arranged for your chambers to be prepared and your staff to be briefed on your preferences.”
