Page 3 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Gena let out a breath and quickly filled in the silence. “Bris is almost like a sister to us… well, not a sister because, well…” her cheeks flushed. “Of course, we’d love her to be a part of our family, but it’s not uh…” and she was really floundering now.
Had Gena harbored some sort of romantic ideal between Bris and her brother? It seemed almost impossible, seeing as they fought all the time. Gena sought out her older brother for his help with a tortured look, but also there was something else there, a plea for him to be a decent human being.
He immediately took pity on Gena. “Not a sister—she’s certainly not that, but we’ll call her a close family friend.”
“Yes,” Gena said. “We’re so lucky to have her in our lives.”
He winced—it was almost imperceptible, but Bris had been looking for any sign of his dislike, and there it was! She’d be blind not to notice how he’d distanced himself from her since his stepfather had tried to push an arranged marriage on them on the Island of Scheria. It didn’t help that her father actually seemed to be considering the idea. If saying she was a princess sounded archaic in this modern world, even crazier was the idea of forcing them to marry!
And of course, Achilles wasn’t having it—that was both gratifying and lowering.
He covered his stormy expression with a fond smile at his sister. Achilles was a full five years older than their Gena, and her fiercest protector. His loyalty was one of the things she loved most about Achilles.
Loved?
Well, they’d chosen their own pathways now. He was showing them exactly how little her father could control him. Now it was her turn. She tilted her head at Achilles, forcing her voice into the nagging tones of a bossy sister. “Where’s your tie, Killiefish? You know if you couldn’t figure out how to put yourself together, we could’ve tied it for you.”
His eyes drifted to the hem of her dress, and he smirked. “I could ask the same thing about your shoes!”
“That was me!” Gena cut in. “My heel broke, and Bris—well— Bris said no one would notice what she looked like.”
Only Achilles wouldandin front of his now sneering girlfriend! “You gave my sister your heels?”
Bris squirmed when she noticed the slight shift in his eyes and how they softened on her like they had nearly a year ago. The last thing she needed was for him to think he owed her. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. Just drop it.”
And he didn’t. “Why wouldn’t anyone notice you?”
She squirmed under his probing look. Of course, they would, but no one dared give the spoiled and fiery princess a hard time about anything. Would he actually make her spell it out? Bris hesitated under the pseudo-sweet gaze of his new lady and shrugged. “My skirt is long enough to cover my feet. Now go bother someone else, will you?”
She might as well have told him to jump off a bridge for how much he listened. His eyes traveled to her toes peeking out from under her hem. She’d painted her toenails blue… not the best bridesmaid color. She crossed her legs in defiance, but that only revealed more of her bare feet. She fought the fidgets and next her outrage when she caught his eyes sweeping over her gold dress. Now he’d see how much the colors clashed!
He ripped his gaze away. “Is your father around?”
Glancing back, Bris searched the crowds for where the aristocratic patriarch might be making his rounds. He’d invited high-profile guests to Venice’s wedding for the sole purpose of parading the hapless groom around as the new ruler of Tirreoy.
It took her far too long to spy her father’s straight back in the chaos. Chises Mnon Tyndarian’s once jet black hair was streaked in white, and his muscular build had gentled after more comfortable living in London. He leaned in close to a French ambassador. Sure enough, after dictating his son take his rightful throne, their father lost no time in gaining every political advantage at his fingertips.
Poor Venice! Her brother’s wedding was starting to resemble a crowning ceremony!
“Over there!” Bris pointed to where her father stood at the far end of the Grecian pavilion. Achilles was free to march his girlfriend in that direction and make his final stand against him. “I’m sure my father will be thrilled to see you.”
More like livid, especially with this new show of rebellion.
Achilles’s jaw hardened. “Good. I need a few words with him.”
“Be sure to circle back,” Gena said eagerly. “I told Bris you’d take her out on the dance floor.”
He glanced over at Bris, looking distracted. “Huh? Oh, uh… we’ll see.”
That meantnot in this lifetime. Gena wasn’t as well-versed in Achilles’s language as Bris was. No way was he getting the upper hand in this game of indifference.
“Don’t bother,” Bris said. “I don’t want you stomping all over my bare toes.” She winked at Charisse. “You’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt as much when you’re wearing heels.”
Achilles directed a dry smile at her. “Wait, actually… I can come back for you. I wouldn’t want you drying up like a spinster in the corner over here.”
Gena gasped and elbowed her brother.
Bris seethed. “I’ll pass—I’ve been hiding from undesirable men all night.” Although honestly, Achilles had the right of it; she needed a man of her own. If not for the sole purpose of snuffing her father’s overbearing plans to marry her off, then it was to show Achillesexactlywhat he was missing. “Of course…” her attention drifted to the redheaded hottie she’d been avoiding meeting eyes with all evening, “maybe I could letonecatch me.”
