Page 56 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
The casual way he mentioned the Myrdons made her nervous. “I don’t know.”
“I’m just saying we need to consider all options. This country won’t heal through charity alone.”
His phone buzzed somewhere near her head, interrupting the suddenly tense moment. He looked like he wanted to say more but sighed instead. “Hold that thought.” His palm brushed past her hair as he reached for the insistent device, pressing it to his ear. “Yeah?”
Achilles stiffened at whatever he heard, then pushed up on his elbow with sudden urgency. “Keep him there. I’ll be right down.” He glanced at her with an unreadable expression. “Bris…? I’ll be back for you, okay?”
He pushed himself off the bed and headed for the door, not bothering to button his shirt or grab his discarded jacket. Her heart crashed against her ribs as she watched him leave as abruptly as the phone call had interrupted their surprisingly intimate moment.
She stared after him, replaying his words.I’m coming back for you?Was her husband actually flirting with her?
But what had happened to all his talk about her father’s interference, how this marriage wasn’t their choice, how he feared their relationship wouldn’t work? And why the sudden interest in Aeaea?
Her gaze drifted to the ring he’d left on the bedside table. And here was another mystery—if he was trying to say he wanted to give their marriage a real chance, why had he removed the symbol of their union?
She reached for it, turning the heavy gold over in her fingers. The rubies caught the lamplight like captured stars set in an ornate cross that felt ancient under her touch. She found something etched into the underside—tiny ant figures marching across the inner band. She froze at the unmistakable symbol of the Myrdons.
Fear and revulsion rose in her throat, choking out all the happiness she’d felt moments before. Why had Achilles hidden this from her? Her mind raced through terrible possibilities—his comment about working with the Myrdons suddenly took on sinister meaning. The Earl’s warnings echoed in her memory: Achilles has divided loyalties… the Myrdons have their own prince.
He’d found her attackers suspiciously quickly. He’d gotten Charisse alone to talk secretly with her. And now he was finally warming up to Bris, just as he’d started talking about negotiating with terrorists. What if Achilles only pretended to like her while he worked with the very rebels who wanted to destroy everything she cared about?
The ruby ring felt like it was burning her palm. She set it back on the table with shaking hands, her romantic dreams crumbling before her eyes.
Now she really was going to be sick.
Chapter Seventeen
Achillesrusheddownthemarble-floored corridors, his footsteps echoing off the gold-embossed walls. He was hunting Phoenix like the rat he was—spy or not, the man had found whoever was responsible for the attempted abduction of his wife, and he’d thought to keep it from him.
Bris wanted things to be normal again?
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Not ever.
Once he slashed her ties to her father and the High Consortium, she’d be the true ruler of this country. That meant enhanced security, constant danger, and more… him. Could he do that to her? Would she even allow it? Her reaction to his suggestion about working with Aeaea still stung—his wife harbored deep suspicions about his loyalty, and he couldn’t blame her.
Charisse had sent him a cryptic message after she’d agreed to help him find information on his father:“Look into C.I.R.C.E. I can’t say more. I’ll get back to you. We’re being monitored. Wait for me.”
He’d researched C.I.R.C.E obsessively after that—besides references to the Greek sorceress who trapped Odysseus, he’d found nothing relevant. Either Tirrojan politics had been scrubbed from the internet, or the outside world simply didn’t care.
That meant he had to wait for another face-to-face meeting with Charisse to decode her mysterious message. The way Chises Mnon controlled their every interaction made a meeting like that impossible… unless Achilles made it happen himself. Did he dare?
Rain lashed against the tall arched windows with violent intensity, the storm outside turning the glass into rivers of water that distorted the palace lights beyond. Forget all his second-guessing about their marriage—Bris needed him to watch her back more than ever. Now it was up to him to convince her of that… despite how cute she’d looked tonight.
Where did she keep finding those adorable PJs?The way that emerald silk had peeked out from her impossibly soft robe, showing a curvaceous leg—the only thing softer than that banyan was her.
He hadn’t wanted to bring up freeing Aeaea’s resources; after all, he’d avoided how her father’s manipulation grated againsthis nerves, or how the prisoners rotted in their dungeons. Not when her eyes shone with such passion as she talked about stocking schools with real supplies, or when those expressive, full lips smiled at him with genuine warmth. He’d found it increasingly difficult to form coherent words, let alone meaningful thoughts, when she was so close.
He’d only wanted to kiss her senseless. For one wild moment, that had seemed like the best way to endure their prison sentence in this gilded cage.
Achilles grimaced at the dangerous direction of his thoughts. He’d accepted that this marriage would exist in name only, but as he continued peeling away the layers of her character, he was finding it harder to maintain that distance.
After all, if Bris was truly stuck with him forever, why not make the best of their situation?
Confusing memories of how she’d turned to him for input on running the country consumed his thoughts, making him lose his nerve while also urging him to take her in his arms the next time he saw her. Achilles had never felt this way before. This marriage was clouding his better judgment when he should be concentrating solely on keeping her alive.
Peder materialized from the shadows, meeting him in the hallway. Nodding subtly, the chamberlain continued their conversation from their texts. “He’s in the library.”
“Wait outside the door.” The request for a lookout went without saying—he put nothing past Phoenix. Rounding the corner toward the vast library, he spotted the treacherous chancellor pouring himself an expensive whiskey with practiced ease.
