Page 72 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“You were amazing, but now you must listen to Sophia and rest,” Dr. Kostas said, his voice gentle but firm. “You cannot help your people if you do not first take care of yourself.” He bowed with a kindly look and left on silent feet, leaving Bris alone to wait for her husband.
Well, almost alone. They’d beefed up her security outside in the hall.
A loud knock sounded at the door—an official rapping that echoed through the chamber like gunshots. Before she could answer it, a scuffle could be heard outside, with the loudly complaining intruder being denied entry. Her security team had become fierce in their protection of her, like loyal hounds guarding their mistress. It was as if today’s events had cast a magic spell over the palace, so that Bris had been transformed from evil queen to the beloved fairytale princess in an instant.
“How dare you keep me from Her Royal Highness!” a man complained outside her door, his voice shrill with indignation.
“She is resting.”
“And her father has given specific instruction that I must guide her—that right is being threatened by the meddling foreigner, one whose name I will not mention…”
“Me? By me?” A new voice came on the scene, low and dangerous, and she recognized Achilles immediately—that velvet growl that could make her knees weak.
“I am giving you one more chance to redeem yourself.” That sneering tone belonged to Phoenix; even in her tired state she should’ve recognized that oily voice in an instant. “If this is not resolved satisfactorily, Chises Mnon will be most displeased.”
Groaning, she moved for the door, her bare feet sliding over the soft Persian carpet like the massage she so badly needed. Her father had planted the worst, sniveling tattletale from Tirreoy… which was exactly what he wanted, but of course, that wouldn’t rub well with Achilles. How could she resolve this without starting another revolution outside her bedroom?
She ripped open the door, seeing Achilles fuming like a caged panther on the other side, and even with his arm trapped uselessly in the sling, he looked ready to destroy every enemy in his path. His dark hair fell across his cheek. The next thing she noticed was the thinly veiled resentment on her security teams’ faces as they blocked the fuming Phoenix from “seeing” her.
“I fired him.” Achilles’s voice was deadly calm.
A stone dropped to the pit of her stomach when she thought of her father’s reaction. “You fired him?”
He nodded evenly, his jaw set in that stubborn line she knew too well.
Phoenix sniffed, turning to her with triumph gleaming in his beady eyes. “As you know, he doesn’t have the authority.”
He’d just spoken the unspoken… and if they couldn’t speak it? Then it wasn’t right. “He does,” Bris said, her decision made in about three-seconds flat, courage flooding through her veins like liquid fire. Whatever Phoenix did, he deserved what he got. “He is my right hand and speaks for the crown. We both employ the staff of this household. I’m sorry that wasn’t understood from the beginning.”
She closed the door on their astonished faces and began getting ready for bed. Her hand shook on her brush as she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, the silver handle catching the soft light. Elevating Achilles to a station far above Prince Consort was the first time she’d disobeyed her father, and the punishment would be swift and uncomfortable.
Why should she care? If her father meant for her to rule, then he’d better trust her, give her the power to govern herself or this whole kingdom would crumble like ancient stone, swept away by forces as devastating as the flood that had nearly claimed them all.
Whatever makeup that hadn’t been washed away from the storm and her shower was the next to go. She dabbed at her face furiously, out of habit now, so worried about her father’s reaction that her movements were sharp and frantic. The bruise on her cheek protested, sending shooting pain across her face, and she drew back her fingers with a soft intake of breath.
The door flew open again, this time Achilles was alone. He watched her with an expression of complete shock. “He had a prisoner executed without permission,” he said as way of explanation.
That was horrific, and yet the fact that he felt he had to justify to her what he’d done made her face flush. “I meant what I said—you don’t have to convince me. I know you—it wasn’t some petty argument over… the color of curtains.”
“No… but…” He pushed his good elbow against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving hers, dark and intense as midnight. “Those curtainswerehideous.”
A smile ran to her trembling lips at his attempt to normalize their lives. Despite her terror of her father’s reaction, he made the rebellion worth it. He moved closer, and the space between them seemed to crackle with electricity. The hand not caught up by his sling found hers, his fingers warm and calloused, strong. “You’re worried about what your father will say, aren’t you?”
She buried her head into his chest, breathing him in. “I’m absolutely stressed out.”
“I know.” He ran a circle against her back, the movement sending shivers of comfort through her tired muscles. “Thank you for backing me up anyway.”
“We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“Yes… we do pretty well together—really well. And I just want to say before I get all silent and nervous…”
“Nervous?” A smile tugged at her lips. Now she knew he was teasing her. When was he ever nervous?
“Yeah, nervous…” His black hair fell back across his eyes in that endearing way that made him look younger, more vulnerable, and her heart did a little flip. “What do you think I’m a robot?” he asked. “Everything about you makes me nervous… especially when you’re all dressed up and looking… like you do.”
She burst out in laughter. Like what? A pale ghost who resembled a drowned rat more than a future queen. “And you can talk to me now that my makeup is off?”
“It is?” He looked genuinely surprised, his head tilting slightly as he studied her face.
