Page 76 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
In other words, the High Consortium believed they could control him. Achilles wasn’t cheered by the news.
And were they right? His gaze moved from Bris, and then to his sister. Both of them had stayed quiet throughout this exchange, though a fire played in Gena’s eyes, and the man who’d been hired to keep her in line grew more watchful because of it. There was a little too much heat in that gaze. Achilles couldn’t let it slide any longer. “Who is that guy?”
“Who?” Gena’s mouth formed the words innocently.
“Your security guard…” Achilles blustered, his protective instincts flaring even more when she didn’t get it. “He’s uh… attentive.”
A scarlet blush colored her cheeks like spilled wine, confirming all of his suspicions and swamping him with more. He knew there was something happening between them, something charged and forbidden, he’d bet his life on it. He didn’t like any of this! His life was crumbling out of his control.
Achilles glanced over at Bris. Queen—she’d really be queen? The finality of a coronation seemed to be a death knell. Hers or their relationship’s? Maybe both. He’d hoped for a way to stop this, but he’d been thwarted at every turn.
And they couldn’t discuss this in front of Chises Mnon. Already, he was ushering his daughter into a private study, acting as if he would discuss the upcoming Christmas Eve coronation as well as critical disaster relief. He waved Achilles away to be with his sister and that—that smoldering security guard of hers.
Achilles couldn’t be in both places at once, and choosing to go with Bris meant a fight that was tactically disadvantageous. Better to get Bris alone to discuss what had gone on later, but could she be strong until then?
Their eyes met across the room, and he saw the steel beneath her delicate exterior. The heavy oak door closed between them, cutting him off from his wife with a sharp click. He took a deep breath. She’d be fine. His girl could handle political wolves,assassination attempts, and natural disasters—she’d tackle this too!
He glanced over at his sister and led them away from the formal reception area. “I want this guy’s name and why he thinks he has the right to watch you like a lovesick idiot.”
She stiffened, her spine going ramrod straight. “Achilles! You’d better shut up! That is not what you are seeing, so back off!” She was so upset, she didn’t see where she was going and, true to form, she backed straight into a massive planter full of blooming oleander.
Her security guard caught her, just as she flailed backward, rescuing her from knocking herself out. The man cast Achilles a challenging look. “Dominique,” he answered his almost forgotten question in a thick French accent. “That is who I am… and I’m the only one who can keep her alive.”
“That better be true,” Achilles muttered. And the man was still holding his sister far too tightly. Achilles gave them a pointed look, his hands fisting.
Dominique released her, taking a little too long in his opinion. His sister wasn’t moving away fast enough either, even though she eventually tore from Dominique’s grip, huffing and puffing in overplayed outrage that also flamed Achilles’s annoyance.
“Let’s go!” She shot ahead of them.
They retreated to the palace gardens, where ancient olive trees dropped lacy shadows over marble pathways worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The December air was crisp, carrying the scent of wet earth from the floods and the sharp green smell of cypress. Gena walked beside him with her familiar graceful stride, though tension lined her usually serene features.
“I can’t get a moment to myself,” she complained, frustration evident in every line of her body.
“Poor thing,” Dominique murmured behind her, his accent making the words sound almost seductive. “And yet, youhave more than enough time to binge-watch cheesy romantic comedies.”
She glanced over at Dominique and glared, her eyes flashing. “Oh, I’m sorry, how would you know what I was watching if I was actually alone?” Her dark hair caught the filtered sunlight, and despite everything, she still looked like the innocent girl Achilles had always protected—he didn’t like that someone else might’ve noticed that. “I hope that you hated every second of that six-hour Pride and Prejudice!” she shot back at Dominique.
“Actually, it wasn’t as terrible as that Bridget Jones movie you made me endure.”
“You see what I put up with?” She swung on her heel and barely avoided tripping on a garden hose coiled like a sleeping snake across the path. “I didn’t sign up to be partnered with some rude mercenary!”
“Neither did they hire me to leave you alone, Milady, or you’d be face-down in the dirt after you got chased down by those ruffians.”
“That didn’t really happen,” Achilles cut in. “It had better not!”
“No, it was a movie!” Gena snapped.
He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm or the evasive answer or how he couldn’t get a word in with their bantering!
“Pardon my French,” Dominique said with a sardonic smile, “butje m’en fiche. They didn’t choose me for my manners.”
“Clearly.”
Achilles’s stomach sank. Yeah, the last time she’d paid that kind of attention to a man, she’d cried on her brother’s shoulder for months after their breakup.
Tilting her chin up in a warlike angle, she turned back to Achilles. “I didn’t come to talk about romantic comedies or French attitude—Mother sends her regards.”
Achilles glanced over at Dominique, who wasn’t necessarily keeping his distance. “He has ears, you know.”
