Page 37 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“Right, look at us—all so business minded.” Sarcasm dripped from every word as she pressed back against the bookshelves. They shifted slightly behind her under the pressure. Nowhere to go without making a scene… and she could, right? Her father couldn’t possibly want things to go this far! If she screamed, would anyone even hear her back here?
Was he actually touching her? His hand cupped her cheek, dwarfing her face with his large palm. “So soft, so fragile. I’m surprised Achilles doesn’t guard your every move.”
She forced herself to appear unaffected, tilting her chin defiantly despite her racing heart. “Why would he need to? We trust each other.”
The Earl chuckled, clearly amused. “You’re new to the reality of arranged marriages, aren’t you, Your Royal Highness?”
She gaped at him. “Who said anything about… that?”
“Don’t worry, baby queen.” Baby queen? His every endearment made her skin crawl. His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”
What secret? Apparently everyone knew their marriage was unconventional if this guy did. These palace spies were completely out of control. She jerked her chin away from his touch, tired of pretending to be civil. “Stop acting like you know the first thing about me or my marriage.”
“I have an idea what it is.” And he was way too comfortable with these lingering caresses for her peace of mind. “A woman like you is far too interesting to be cooped up with a man who doesn’t properly appreciate her… exceptional qualities.”
Did those spies deduce all this just from Achilles leaving with Charisse? They must have been lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce at the first opportunity. Her father had given her the order to marry Achilles, put him under her thumb, but he’d said nothing about loyalty. Her eyes flicked to the Earl as he prepared to make his move. “I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk business.”
“The oldest kind,” he said, his smile was decidedly icky. “You see, my dear, I have certain offshore interests that have been… blocked by territorial disputes. With the right royal backing—a queen who isn’t afraid to make hard decisions—we could unlock tremendous wealth for Tirreoy.” His fingers traced alongher diamond necklace with possessive familiarity. “Sometimes business requires more than negotiations. It requires action. Real action.”
His meaning was vague but unsettling—he’d want to use the military to get what he wanted, possibly on the Island of Aeaea where the bulk of the country’s riches were guarded from them. Was this what her father meant by making strategic connections with the High Consortium? She didn’t care anymore. She wanted out.
Bris drew herself up to her full height—which unfortunately only brought her to his shoulder. She was trapped between his imposing frame and the towering bookshelves. He showed no intention of moving. “If you’ll excuse me…” She wasn’t above shoving him out of the way. She was small, but she had a mean left hook.
But his next words stopped her cold: “I think you’re going to need a friend to confide in—one with the power to make or break you.” That sounded more like a threat than an offer, and she froze, every instinct screaming danger as she faced her first real encounter with deadly court intrigue. “It must be terribly difficult being married to a man with such divided loyalties.”
To her or to something else? “I’m sorry, but are you playing at being my marriage counselor?”
His eyes hardened like blue ice. Apparently, he wasn’t as amused by her sharp tongue as Achilles was. “Isn’t your husband’s mother aligned with the Myrdons? He is their prince… in a way. A dangerous way.”
Her clenching stomach was beginning to hurt. Her father had meant to use Achilles’s connections to bring the country together. Was it a misalliance to some? “The Myrdons have their own prince,” she said carefully.
“Aggie Mnon—I’ve heard disturbing rumors about him. Or is he still rotting in prison? That’s where political dissidents belong, not sharing your marriage bed.”
She gasped at his crudeness. No longer caring about being diplomatic to this monster who might fund all of Tirreoy, she only wanted to escape. Her elbow shot into his ribs as she tried to slip past him.
He caught her wrist—not playfully like Achilles had when they wrestled, but brutally, vengefully, his fingers digging into her so hard that she had to stop struggling to keep him from snapping her bones. “No matter how civilized we pretend to be, we still must find ways to dispose of these undesirables.” His eyes raked over her with undisguised desire. “I wonder what your husband is discussing with his lover right now… will it be a shocking interlude or another betrayal altogether?”
“I’m not listening to this a second longer!”
But that didn’t stop him from hissing out these disgusting suspicions: “The Oshear heiress possesses a considerable bank account. I hear her father funds far too many questionable causes… there is rumor that he backed the man who betrayed your father—General Peleus, was it. Oh… isn’t that Achilles’s father?” Of course, it was—he hadn’t just come up with that! “Looks like the little American heiress and your boy toy have a long history together! I’m sure they’re mixing business with pleasure as we speak?”
Bris let out a derisive laugh, even while his poisonous insinuations wormed their way through her veins. The terrible truth was that she had no idea what to believe anymore. How well did she really know her husband? She’d never guessed he’d joined the rebels years earlier. He’d supposedly renounced that connection, but… had he really?
“Now why should the Myrdons have all the fun?” His thumb traced across her lower lip, making her want to slap him. “You are an exquisite woman… I will be your… friend.”
She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t break free from his iron grip. She’d always been strong… or thought she had been, but maybe that was only because she’d been surrounded by men who made her feel that way. “Let me go or Achilles will hunt you down and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.” Even if he felt nothing romantic for her, her husband would defend her! That’s how deep their friendship ran.
The Earl’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You love that Myrdon rat, don’t you? Oh, this is deliciously tragic. You’re in for a heartbreak. I can almost find it in myself to pity you. He’ll only use you and throw you away.”
“I’m going to scream in exactly three seconds.” He didn’t need to know that she didn’t have enough breath in her to do it.
She didn’t trust that wolfish grin. “You’re every bit as feisty as he said.”
Who was “he?” She whipped her head around, searching for escape.
In that instant, Deedee’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby. “Bris? You back here, Bestie?”
No, no! That phone camera would capture a story that was far from reality… it could! She could use this. Bris might only be able to whisper through her fear, but she infused as much threat into it as she could. Her eyes locked on the Earl. “You want to go viral in the worst possible way?” Her gaze flicked toward Deedee’s approaching silhouette. “She’s got a TalkieTalk channel with millions of followers… she might even be livestreaming right now.”
