Page 1 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Chapter One

—Venice and Livvy’s Wedding—

“ N o, no, no! My heel just snapped off, and before pictures! I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Bris laughed and cornered Gena near the wedding cake to stop her from accidentally flattening it with her wildly flailing hands.

The beautiful dark-haired girl hopped around like a wounded hyena.

“Let me see!” Bris snapped her fingers at her, knowing that her tough-girl act would make her friend listen.

Gena sank down into a chair near an exquisitely decorated table, hiding behind centerpieces of white peonies and greenery spilling artfully across crisp white linens.

The bride and groom were taking their first dance as a married couple, and as their bridesmaids, Bris and Gena were destined to join them on the floor.

The fairy lights sparkled through the decorated tent as the sun began to set over the lush lawn of her family’s spacious grounds in the Cotswolds, England.

There wasn’t time to play around. Bris’s father, Chises Mnon, was a stickler for tradition!

Bris slid off the dainty gold-embellished slipper from her friend’s feet, inspecting the broken heel. There was no way they could get it back on. Her first thought was to break the other heel, but that would just make two deformed shoes.

This was so typical! Gena—elegant soul that she was—had to be her clumsiest friend.

The younger girl had grown up with Bris’s family in London after they’d all escaped the revolution in Tirreoy during the Crimson Reckonings.

Bris was a princess—as unbelievable as that statement sounded in this modern world.

Her full name was Briseis Mnon Tyndarian, and she came from an elite line of royalty who’d been chased from their homeland and denied their birthright… until now, of course.

Bris still didn’t know how to act now that the world expected her to take her rightful place in the country that had banished her royal family in a bloody civil war. Was she beloved? Hated?

Gena, on the other hand, was the daughter of a celebrated Tirrojan war general, who’d courageously given his life to save his people.

There was no question that Bris’s exiled family would adopt his children as their own after their harrowing journey to sanctuary, and in Bris’s opinion, they’d been better for it.

She couldn’t imagine her life without Gena or… Achilles, for that matter.

Bris swallowed at the thought of Gena’s older brother. Ugh, get over the guy already! He doesn’t like you, so stop embarrassing yourself!

Other fish in the sea! Other fish in the sea!

And Bris wasn’t completely revolting. She’d already gained an admirer tonight—he was two tables away, standing at the refreshment table.

The man had an athletic build with broad shoulders and red hair that looked almost copper against a tanned face. And he had a grin to die for.

He’d been trying to catch her eye all night.

And Bris wasn’t in the mood. Spinning away from him, she glanced over at Gena’s gold bridesmaid dress—Gena might be younger than Bris, but she was taller.

That meant the same dress the two of them wore only reached Gena’s calves, while the gold silk almost swept the ground around Bris.

Gena wouldn’t be able to ditch her heels and hide the fact she was barefoot, not like Bris could… and that decided it!

Bris tugged off her own heels.

Gena was already shaking her head. “No, no!”

“Don’t worry about it! Even if someone notices that I’m not wearing shoes with this dress, it’s not like they’re going to say anything about it… it’s me we’re talking about.”

Gena hid a smile, but not quickly enough. Everyone and their dog called Bris a loudmouthed brat, even more so now that she could officially go by “princess.” Her brother, Venice, said coming out as royalty only made her act worse! And… so what? Sometimes being the spoiled royal terror was useful.

“Get these on,” Bris said.

Her sweet-faced friend clasped the heels with a laugh.

Yeah, Bris always got her way. Well… sometimes. Again, the flash of Achilles’s dark eyes swam through her mind. There were times that his eyes were so strikingly dark they were painful, not to mention that smirk that turned her insides into jelly and—and… enough of that, already!

Sheesh! Try to save his little sister and forget about yourself for once!

Gena slipped on the shoes. They fit great—Bris already knew they would since they’d swapped shoes and outfits all the time while growing up.

“I’m not sure that taking away the heels from the groom’s sister is the best plan, but…

thank you, Bris! My brother wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if he found out.

” Gena’s clumsiness was the family joke; it was best Bris took the heat this time.

“Where did Achilles go anyway?” Gena craned her neck to see past the busy blur of refined wedding guests.

“He said that he’d save a dance for me… and I’m sure one for you too. ”

Sure! Sure… not likely! He’d been acting standoffish since that nightmare off Scheria Island—since everything with the Myrdons had exploded into the open.

The Myrdons! Even thinking of the name made her stomach turn. They’d been the driving force that had pushed the royal family from Tirreoy! How could Achilles even consider their cause after what they’d done to her family? Her mother was dead because of them!

But Achilles had believed his own mother’s version of events. How could he think his father was dead because of them? Luckily, he drew the line when it came to hurting his friends, but now…

Bris grimaced out a smile before Gena could notice her expression.

The unspoken agreement between them was to keep Achilles’s sister out of this dangerous mess.

Gena was the most well-adjusted of them all, working in the small town of Bourton-on-the-Water and specializing in normal, normal, and… speech pathology.

“No, no,” Bris tried to reassure her, “I’m not really in the mood for dancing tonight.” And especially not with Achilles. “You have to know I have an ulterior motive for giving you my shoes.”

Gena squeezed her arm. “I don’t believe it. You have a heart of gold—I imagine softer than most of ours or you wouldn’t try to hide it so much.”

That was… generous, and it also hit a nerve. The traumatic events on Scheria Island weren’t the only reasons that Achilles was avoiding her. Her face flushed at the reason why.

“Ah!” Gena pushed to her feet. “There’s Achilles! I knew he’d find us!”

Bris tried to stop herself from swinging around, but then it was too late and she found herself caught by those painfully beautiful dark eyes and trying to interpret the mood against those brooding lips, even as they melted her insides into goo.

Yes, Gena was right! Bris’s heart was way too soft, and now it stretched out like hot taffy at the sight of him.

Achilles was, in a word, exotic, with his dark olive features and hair, and though she was used to seeing him strut around his brother’s yacht with his chest laid bare to the sun like a feral cat, he didn’t look out of place in a tux either.

In fact, the rich material was like a second skin, gently gliding over the curvature of his muscular back and shoulders.

He’d abandoned his tie, which she knew must mean he couldn’t tie it, and he’d left off a few more buttons at the collar than was usual, so that she could see the strength of his powerful chest heaving with his ragged breaths.

What? Did the guy run a marathon to reach them? She wouldn’t be surprised. He was usually late to everything… in a way, it was endearing. Isn’t that what people called beige flags—neither red nor green, just… cute?

And she stuffed that sentiment all away, just as usual. She’d die before giving away her deeper feelings by sitting too straight or collapsing back in her chair or staring too long… except now she couldn’t tear her eyes away because who was that beautiful blonde next to him?

Achilles turned to the slender debutante and held out his hand. The woman clutched possessively at his fingers.

Yeah, she got it—he was taken. Always. Except he wasn’t. Achilles took none of these women seriously.

Bris shifted in her chair, resentment making her every move prickly.

Achilles was always in the company of stunningly gorgeous women, but this time was different.

Holding hands? She didn’t want to consider it, but what if this woman actually meant something to him?

And why not? After all, today was already chaotic enough, so why not introduce yet another new change in their lives?

Bris had mentally prepared for this eventuality since she was twelve and had a crush on a guy that would never see her as anything more than an annoying little sister.

Gena glanced back at Bris, her dark eyes softening with concern. “I didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

Bris shrugged. First off, why did Gena think she cared? And secondly, she shouldn’t ! Her gooey taffy heart was turning colder and more brittle as he neared with his new lady in tow. The fact that Achilles was bringing someone with him to his best friend’s wedding might actually mean something.

Despite mentally preparing for this, Bris wasn’t sure if she was ready yet… and did it matter? With difficulty, she kept herself from hiding under the table as they approached.

“Gena!” Achilles said, and then his voice turned deeper, more stilted, “Bris.”

Bris nodded nonchalantly in what she hoped was just as insulting a greeting, even while she took careful stock of the lady he’d toted along.

The blonde had strings of pearls looped around her neck, but they barely moved the woman was so stiff.

In fact, her posture was so good she looked like she’d break if her shoulders relaxed.

Her blue eyes were slightly dazed in a dreamy way, though they sharpened on Bris in sudden dislike and…

how could this harpy possibly be Achilles’s type?