Page 12 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

“I know, right?” Achilles said in his offhand way. “We used to trick our friends by switching places. Of course, swapping lives only worked when it was dark.”

“Really dark,” Peder interjected. “Usually only at bedtime when we were supposed to be in our own rooms.”

“When our mothers were distracted.” So, this was when they were children?

Phoenix cleared his throat pointedly. “If I may suggest, Your Royal Highnesses, it has been a long day, and you must be weary. Perhaps we should escort you to your chambers so you may rest before tomorrow’s briefings?” His tone was respectful but firm, like a parent gently herding unruly children.

And that guy was just the more obvious of her father’s cohorts. They were surrounded by potential tattletales.

Their every move was under scrutiny. A wave of exhaustion washed over Bris at the thought of living under this spotlight. It also didn’t help that she’d just experienced the most trying day of her life… days—it must be hours past midnight. She glanced back at Polly. “Where’s our room?”

Polly’s fingers clenched her clipboard, and she hurried forward, eager to be of service. “Your Royal Highness, your rooms are this way.” Launching ahead of them, she led them up the stairs. Bris noticed with some alarm that the whole staff was following them.

Achilles bumped her arm. “Hey,” he said. “You doing okay?”

She nodded when she should’ve shaken her head, but they were surrounded as they meandered through halls covered in red carpet and gold-embossed walls. It felt a little bit like being in a royal bird cage. Once again, the enormity of what she faced hit her.

Her attention shifted to Achilles. The brief amusement at being reunited with an old friend had drifted from his face as he straightened his shoulders.

He must’ve sensed her gaze, because he caught her eyes with his, the tempest of emotion she saw there reminded her very powerfully that this was their wedding night.

The heat running up her face exploded into pins and needles in her stomach.

She gulped, tearing her gaze away. How did her father even think she could take control of this relationship?

Her older brother’s best friend was a man of the world, but for all Bris’s bravado, she was not experienced with love in the least!

Was that what she’d get with Achilles or was their connection destined to be shallow?

He hadn’t wanted to marry her. At the most, he saw her like a little sister.

That had been nice when… she was younger.

The horrible truth was that Bris was—well, it was shameful really—but she wanted love, but how?

Her father had ignored her most of her life and her brother had left for school for so long, that she didn’t know how to connect with men at all, but she had her romantic and foolish dreams. For too long she’d been desperate for attention—and so she walked the walk and dressed the part, and for what?

She’d always gotten a big fat nothing in return, when all she wanted was to know what it felt like to be cherished—and for the past few years, she’d come to realize after each failed relationship, that there was only one man she wanted for that role, and that was Achilles.

She was a bigger idiot than anyone knew.

How could she handle such a man? Was he destined to drift away like all the others? She swallowed down her fear. None of her other boyfriends had hurt her, because she just hadn’t cared enough. But now? Her father had paired her with the only man with the power to break her heart.

Being a queen was bad enough, but a broken-hearted queen? Unthinkable. She lifted her chin. She’d fight this! She wasn’t the spoiled Princess Prissy for nothing!

Seconds before gathering her spirits, they reached the door. “These are your suites,” Polly said. “Would you like me to draw a bath, unpack your bags…?”

Bris flushed. She had nothing to sleep in, no brushes, no makeup remover, no makeup! What was she going to do? What a way to introduce herself to her husband.

Polly’s brow rose at her.

Oh! The patient woman had asked her a question. “No,” Bris said quickly. “I have nothing. My luggage was… lost.”

A soft gasp sounded behind them from an older woman with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun. “Well, Your Royal Highness, at least we’ve already arranged for something suitable for your wedding night.”

“Oh… well, that… would be…” what did she mean wedding night? This time Bris avoided looking over at Achilles. He had to be exhausted. And so was she. Yes, she was near collapse. That would save them tonight and then what would be her excuse tomorrow night?

Bris didn’t want to think about what this marriage was going to mean for the both of them.

How long could they keep up this charade?

Honestly, keeping their relationship surface level might be the only way to keep her heart intact.

“Just some simple pajamas” she said, like big and oversized and… there was no way to say that aloud.

“Food?” and older woman asked. At Bris’s questioning look, she bobbed in a curtsey. “My name’s Sophia,” she said with a kind smile. “I’m your chamber maid, and I can bring you something fresh from the kitchen.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Pizza,” Achilles was already saying. He collected his duffle bag from Peder.

“Chocolate milk, gummy worms, if you got it, and maybe some chicken drums. Oh, and cheese and crackers. Definitely cheese… over nachos.” Well, someone had worked up an appetite.

He laughed at her incredulous look. “And now I’m getting the side eye.

Bring me two of everything. Bris will want some too…

even if she won’t admit it.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s hangry. ”

Sophia choked on a gasp. Bris spun around on her heel to give him a real stink eye, all while the chambermaid hurried away. “At least I’m not eating my feelings!”

“There’s a gym and pool on the level below you” Peder said quickly, his gaze going to Achilles. “All the supplies you’ll need, you’ll find down there.”

“Is that to work off all that food?” Bris asked.

Peder choked and coughed into his hand, making a sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh.

He glanced over at Achilles. “You can buzz me at any time of the day or night. Here’s your phone.

I’m on speed dial.” He handed him a sleek device with unfamiliar Tirrojan symbols glowing across the screen.

Bris stared at the strange characters as Polly handed her an identical phone. “Why do we need new phones?”

“The old ones can be tracked,” Polly said matter-of-factly, “and hacked… that’s how we got all your old numbers to put in these. We switched the service over. Your father’s orders.” She shrugged. “Let me know what you’d like for breakfast when you wake up.”

“And help us figure out what snacks and drinks to stock the fridge with,” Peder said.

“I can fluff your pillow,” Polly said.

“Leave that to me,” Achilles cut in with a laughing look at Bris that was meant to be conspiratorial. “I’ll tuck her into bed, nice and snug as a bug.”

Supposedly, he was being sarcastic, but his velvety tones sounded oddly intimate.

She felt the hot strength of his hand against her arm, and she startled as he ushered her inside.

“Thank you,” he told Polly and the hordes of assembled staff.

“I’ll take it from here.” He slammed the door in their faces.

They were finally alone. Bris was terrified.

His arm left her as he paced the massive chambers that made up their suites. “Huge bathroom,” he reported. “I like the size of these showers—finally, they’re tall enough. I can stand up straight. Hey, we could fit an army in there. Tubs too!” He sounded pleased.

Opening doors like they were on a casual vacation, he found their walk-in closets, even some sitting areas, an entertainment room with a TV and actual full-sized fridges and freezers encased in the walls.

He opened them each to see they were fully stocked with cheese, fruit, chocolate, meat, and drinks. “Nice,” he muttered.

And still he kept looking. She wondered what was missing until he finally opened a door to the bedroom.

Her eyes widened at the bed—it was king plus-plus-plus size, if there ever was such a thing! She’d never seen such a monstrosity, and yet, it was also beautiful and beckoned to her with the softest comforter she’d ever seen.

A delicate white silk nightgown was already laid out across the pristine bedspread, and Bris felt her cheeks flood with embarrassment. The gown was beautiful but embarrassingly bridal—definitely not the “simple pajamas” she’d requested. Her father’s orders had clearly contradicted hers.

She rushed forward to snatch the nightgown, hopefully before Achilles could get a good look at it or her burning face.

Achilles followed her into the room, and she was suddenly aware of how big he seemed compared to the delicate furnishings, to her even.

She ran her hand across the thick quilt, trying to distract herself from her racing thoughts.

“Look at that view!” She moved to the window, gazing out at the Mediterranean landscape spread below them—olive groves and cypress trees dotting the hillsides, the helicopter pad visible in the distance, the whole scene bathed in moonlight from their high vantage point.

Her exhaustion from earlier tugged at her eyelids again, along with the pins and needles from earlier. There was no escaping where they really were. Tirreoy. This strange, foreign place where everything was different from what she knew. She was a stranger here.

Achilles was back to checking all the doors, looking like a caged tiger now.

The doors led back to the entertainment room, another bathroom, more closet space.

He glanced back at her, his forehead wrinkling in that cute way it did.

“Only one bedroom? What kind of palace did we land in? A suite for happy couples? Not even Henry the VIII shared a room with his wives.”