Page 27 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Phoenix’s expression soured further. “Nevertheless, you lose the Earl’s approval, then you forget about getting the crown. He controls the offshore energy and has half the Tirreoy parliament in his pocket through strategic investments.”
Well, that was disgustingly high stakes. Bris almost wished she didn’t know.
Achilles’s glower wasn’t going anywhere.
The ornate double doors swept open with perfect timing, and Peder appeared like a well-dressed cavalry charge. Thechamberlain’s dimpled smile was such a distinct change to the toxic mood that it was almost embarrassing.
He approached Achilles. “Your Royal Highness, The Viscount of Tenedos has sent three cases of his finest vintage as a coronation gift—protocol requires you to sample each and provide formal written appreciation.”
Achilles’s answering laugh was a little too bright, a little too relieved in her opinion. “Is that so? Well, we’d better get on it immediately. Can’t keep the Viscount waiting.”
He tried to stand with the enthusiasm of a man who’d just been thrown a lifeline. Nope! Her party-loving husband wasn’t going anywhere—especially not to drown his problems in expensive wine like he had a habit of doing!
Her hand snapped to his wrist to stop him. And too late, the contact sent an electric shock racing up her arm. Sheesh! What was wrong with her? She snatched her hand away like she’d been burned. Achilles’s brow went up, but she could see the desperate edge lurking behind the casual move.
Feeling uneasy, she turned to Peder. “Please hide that expensive booze… really far from him.”
Peder burst into an explosive laugh—besides his bright grin, it really was uncanny how similar they looked. Same height, same build, same dark hair and olive complexion. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect they were brothers rather than childhood friends.
“Where did you say you two met again?” she asked. Suspicion crept into her voice, no matter how she tried to stop it. They’d said they’d grown up together, but anyone from Achilles’s past was automatically a Myrdon in her book.
“Our families were close friends back in Ilion,” Peder explained. “We grew up practically as brothers after both our fathers served together in the military.”
Achilles sat back, looking more relaxed now that his friend was there “We were more like twins! My mother yelled at him from across the pasture to come in for dinner… and that idiot went for it.” His lips curved into the first genuine smile she’d seen all week. “She didn’t know he wasn’t me until she set my dinner in front of him. We always looked a lot alike!”
A young servant girl slipped through the side door, balancing a silver tray of fresh pastries. She set a warm almond croissant glazed with honey and studded with pistachios in front of Achilles.
Bris turned from him to Peder. Seeing them side by side, especially as they laughed like carefree brothers, she did a double take. Were these two related? “I don’t see it,” she lied. And she’d do her best to discourage them from picking up that prank again. “By the way, if you try anything like that with me, I’ll make you both sorry you were born.”
She might as well have issued a direct challenge, judging by the way Achilles’s expression shifted from fond nostalgia to something dangerously playful. “Is that so?” His eyes burned her with pure mischief, and she could practically see the gears turning in his head. “What are you so afraid of? Peder just needs to work on his brooding scowl—maybe up his game with the ladies.”
Were brooding scowls contagious? She had her own now. *As far as she could see, Achilles had perfected his game with only one woman, and it wasn’t his wife.
And Achilles was practically daring to give him a fiery reaction… as if they were still good friends, bantering and teasing like before all this. Gulping, she tried to play it cool with a dismissive wave, “I’m not worried. Peder’s too sweet to get away with playing you.”
A soft gasp sounded near her elbow, followed by a delicate porcelain creamer shattering against the floor with a sharpcrack. The poor servant girl stumbled backwards with a quick apology.
“Clumsy fool!” Phoenix’s shout was like a cracking whip making them all flinch. “I’ve enough of servants acting like they are as good or equal to their betters!”
Was this thinly veiled insult a shot at Peder’s possibly common origins? The playful look vanished from Achilles’s face, replaced by something cold and dangerous. His shoulders squared as he fixed Phoenix with a glare.
“I’m sorry,” Bris cut in. “But I didn’t realize that terrorizing staff was part of our training? Shall we get back to the part where we humiliate ourselves with three-second curtseys to gain a nod of approval fromourbetters?”
Phoenix let out an undecipherable complaint, and with an expressive roll of his eyes, waved dismissively at the trembling girl. “Go! Before you break something else.”
The girl bobbed and ran gratefully away.
Only then did Achilles break his intimidating stare with the man. He gave Peder an apologetic look, then moved closer to Bris, his hand settling protectively on her lower back as he murmured, “Prissy?” She turned to face him, acutely aware of the warmth of his palm burning through the silk of her dress. She’d die before she let him know how out of breath he’d made her. “You don’t think I’m sweet?”
That was unexpected. He was back to that? “Sweet?” Like when he’d carried her over the threshold, his fingers bunching up against the satin of her wedding dress? Or when his warm gaze lingered on her lips while she sipped chocolate milk from a wine glass? She scoffed to cover up the ache in her heart. “Oh yes, you’re very sweet to wake me up so early in the morning to make sure I wasn’t late to my floral arrangement approvals.” Unmentioned was how he’d brushed her hair back from her face until their eyes met, then he’d nearly sprinted out the door to getaway. “How was that last croissant you stole by the way? Yeah, I know that’s why you came in so early. I see right through you. You need to work on that poker face, honey.”
Achilles laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Trust me, you’d be happy for it if we ever play a hand of cards. Peder, on the other hand, will fleece you of everything you’ve got.”
Now that sounded like something they’d done when they were older… after Achilles had returned to Tirreoy to join the Myrdons.
Peder’s cheeks flushed, and tearing desperately from his friend, he stepped closer to Phoenix, clearly preferring his irritable temper to his friend outing him. “Chancellor, I wanted to discuss a new arrangement… where we relocate His Royal Highness’s personal effects to the Blue Suite… uh… for easier management?”
All her earlier warmth disintegrated as her breath caught on her disappointment. Achilles was already taking a different room? It made sense, of course, since he wasn’t staying in theirs, but… she had hoped…
