Page 32 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
He felt like he was missing something crucial. No explosion. No sassy comeback. Just walls slamming down between them. He touched her arm gently. “Are you okay?”
“Yes! Of course. Yes!” He didn’t trust that bright look she’d plastered to her face, and his stomach clenched when that fleeting look of pain was quickly concealed. He was no longer a participant, not even a viewer, but a stranger locked out from the innermost workings of Bris. “I was being such a puppet. Gross,” she said with forced lightness. “We’re not like other people. Totally.” She hopped down from the counter. “Friends?”
His stomach dropped like a stone. “Always.” And this conversation did not go the way he wanted. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how he’d wanted this talk to end. He didn’t even know what he was going for exactly, but now it all felt wrong.
Somethingwaswrong… but he was right, wasn’t he? Protecting her meant protecting her from himself. He wasn’t worthy of her—she’d figure that out in time.
Bris headed for the door, her shapely legs shifting the knit of that treacherous rugby shirt that made her look all cute and touchable. Her hair slapped against her back. He gulped, remembering his hillbilly fantasy from earlier. She stopped before she reached the door and turned to him, her face pale. “You still think I’m… beautiful?”
How could she even question that? “Stunning,” he answered truthfully.
She nodded, though strangely, she looked a little crestfallen too. “Oh… good. C’mon, let’s eat. I’m starving!”
And he’d lost his appetite. A usual occurrence around here.
Chapter Nine
Friday, December 6th, DAY 15
—Four more days of pretending everything is okay—
Briswaitedoutsidetheelevator with Achilles. The guy was practically a marble statue in his dark-fitted suit, his expression carved from ice as they lingered in the pristine hallway under sparkling crystal chandeliers. The deafening silence stretched between them as they both pretended they weren’t dreading the long-awaited charity dinner that would determine their political fate.
He thinks I’m beautiful… stunning.
And that was a poor counterfeit for a personality that was lacking. It had been less than a week since that disastrous kiss, and Bris was well on her way to proving just how spoiled she was—she’d been explosive, sensitive, and of course about nothing of substance… that was reserved for her innermost moments, crying into her pillow at night… where Achilles would never be able to hear her in that sitting room he’d claimed as his own personal fortress.
Short of pretending to be someone different, she was never going to win her husband’s love. Her stomach hadn’t stopped twisting into pretzels at the thought. She did her best not to look at him. Each glimpse showed her the picture of the dashing bachelor he used to be—broad shoulders filling out his tailored jacket perfectly, dark hair combed back with military precision—though this time his collar was buttoned all the way to the top. His bow tie, however, was askew… in a charming, devil-may-care way.
And Bris knew better. She shifted in her white heels, struggling inwardly not to reach out and fix that crooked silk.It had taken everything in her to click back together the puzzle pieces of her heart so she could act like a normal person tonight. Her entire future as queen rested on making an impeccable impression on the High Consortium—one misstep and they could block her coronation entirely.
Whatever you do, don’t be yourself!
Bris started her transformation this afternoon by working on her outward look first—she’d put on a white satin sheath dress paired with the family’s most expensive jewelry, a diamond choker necklace that felt like elegant shackles around her throat. With Polly’s help, she pulled her hair back into a more severe bun, making every effort to appear more mature and detached from her insecurities. That reserved, distant look she’d found in the mirror had almost reached who she was on the inside.
Almost. Bris would rein in her heart soon. She always did, even while choking her way through breakfast. She’d kept up polite conversation on the correct spoon angle for serving soup courses, despite the fact that they were eating Frosted Flakes.
The elevator dinged with a soft chime, and the polished brass doors slid open to reveal mirrored walls that reflected their formal perfection back at them infinitely.
“Ready for the lion’s den?” she asked with practiced breeziness, her voice light and conversational as if they were heading to a casual dinner instead.
“As ready as one can be for voluntary torture,” he replied in kind.
“I hear the food’s good… who knows? Maybe they’ll slip you some chocolate milk.” She added a casual, slight smile to that.
Somehow that chased away that tight look on Achilles’s face as they walked into the elevator. The mirrors inside fractured their images into a kaleidoscope of formal wear and fake smiles. The doors closed behind them, swallowing them inside. The tightlook returned to his eyes as he took her in, like he was really seeing her for the first time tonight.
She was heartless, wasn’t she? Why hadn’t she surrendered a real room to him after that mind-blowing kiss? It was like she still found some comfort from him being on the other side of her door while she slept.
She groaned inwardly.Get over it already! What? You think happiness is within your reach?It had never been farther. Ironically, blowing up everything good around her was always her fault… and it still was. Achilles would never see her as anything more than the little brat he grew up with. She couldn’t imagine what their futures held for them now, only an empty stretch of duty and feigning indifference.
She cast him a nonchalant look, doing her best to graciously accept the way things were. “You might want to fix that tie, Killie Fish.”
He got busy working on it, his large fingers fumbling with the delicate silk. She kept her hands firmly at her sides, her guilt gnawing at her like acid. Would he ever forgive her for this sham marriage? Achilles was an untamed creature who gnawed away at any restraint, and he’d always had dreams of getting away from the world they’d lived in.
I always had dreams of going with him.
That was never going to happen! What chance did she have of loving anyone ever? She had to release this man from this torture. It was the right thing to do, but when? How? Without her father’s interference, Achilles might’ve figured love out… even if he still hadn’t figured out his tie. The black silk ends were getting horribly crushed, and they’d almost reached the ballroom on the main floor.
