Page 14 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Chapter Six

“ A ll I ask is you protect my baby sister. Do you hear me, Achilles?” Venice’s condemning words burned through him:

He couldn’t even keep his hands off her for one night.

Achilles threw his pillow over his head, trying to forget the existence of his beautiful wife across from him or the way she’d looked over at him with those stunning eyes of hers; they’d almost made him lose his resolve to cut short that dangerously intimate tickle fight.

Stop touching her.

Got it! That would be his number one rule.

He listened to the soft rustle of sheets as she shifted restlessly, then made the mistake of glancing over at her bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp.

His old Cambridge rugby shirt—navy blue with bold gold stripes—looked impossibly good against her olive skin.

He had no idea that old t-shirt could do that.

Was she really that much smaller than him?

It was like a dress on her, the hem skimming those cute little knees.

Her manicured nails squeezed the pillow as she lay on her side, the shirt riding up slightly. She tossed the pillow from her head. For one horrible, treacherously pleasurable moment of weakness, he thought she’d start a pillow fight.

Instead, she threw an annoyed look at him, her hair a wild tangle of black silk around her face. “I’m hungry.”

He hid a smile… and certainly not well enough because she caught him and rolled her eyes. He shrugged. “What a surprise,” he murmured.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s why I ordered all that food. If you apologize nicely for giving me such a hard time about it, I’ll share.”

“You weren’t going to bed at all!” She crossed one long leg over the other, looking annoyed.

“Not… yet…” His eyes slid to that blue nail polish he’d noticed when she gave up her high heels to his sister earlier. Had it really been just hours ago? Those delicate feet looked even smaller now, and he found himself wondering what it would feel like to trace that perfect arch with his thumb.

Stop looking at her!

He snatched at his new phone and concentrated on the strange new screen, squinting at the unfamiliar display…

and noticed Charisse had blown it up. They really had switched it over.

Notification after notification had stacked up—she’d been texting him nonstop.

He scrolled through the relentless stream.

Some of them tearful. Most of them angry…

until it finally ended with: You owe me an explanation. I think I deserve that at least!

“Well… then what was all that ‘tuckered out’ talk?” Bris asked.

He tried to focus on what she was saying. “Huh?”

“… if you were so hungry.”

“Cat nap…” His eyes went back to his phone, not finding any refuge in it, especially when he noticed the bubbles that showed Charisse was writing yet another message.

A knock sounded distantly in his hearing, and he listened to Bris slide off the bed, her bare feet silent against the thick Persian carpet, to the heavy oak door that creaked on ancient hinges as she opened it.

The rich aroma of melted cheese and herbs drifted into the room as she wheeled in a silver cart laden with his outlandish food requests.

His stomach rumbled. Man, he really was a world-class jerk. Shouldn’t a guy lose his appetite on his wedding night after everything he’d done?

Bris bounced slightly on her toes as she pushed the cart closer in that ridiculously oversized shirt—that soft knit material was going to smell like her, like lilacs and vanilla. He knew that because her scent was already all over him, clinging to his skin like a sweet accusation.

New rule. Stop smelling her.

He’d have to hide his clothes from her and maybe burn that silky white nightgown the staff had laid out. There was nothing he could do about that thick, curly black hair. The thought of those strands getting tangled through his fingers was more than he could handle.

Turn off your thoughts!

He’d better be a robot after this was through! Bris was more fragile than she tried to show the world—Achilles couldn’t play with her emotions like he had with… others. His eyes drifted to Charisse’s messages.

You didn’t give me any warning, any inclination. We had a date tonight!

Why didn’t he even feel sad about Charisse?

Guilty? Yes… that was usual, but sad? Nothing.

Did he not have a heart? Maybe it had atrophied from disuse, withered away from too many casual relationships that meant nothing to him.

Just another reason he’d never be worthy of his best friend’s little sister.

Myrdons, Tyndarians, spies, threats of a civil war—and add to all that, his overwhelming feelings, as if he was driving a car with no brakes and a frozen steering wheel straight toward a cliff. Anything could happen between now and when she was crowned… if she was crowned.

He could not, should not fall in love with her. If things didn’t work out because of these escalating tensions in their country… it might destroy her.

Bris let out a happy squeal, her eyes lighting up as she surveyed the spread of pizza boxes, chocolate milk cartons, and an absurd mountain of gummy worms. His gaze traveled from those tempting delights to her face, which was somehow even more captivating with that cheesy grin.

“I’m big enough to admit when you’re right,” she said.

“Small enough, shorty,” he corrected. “Hold on to that thought,” he said.

“I want a real apology.” He moved to the part of the bed she’d claimed, pushing past the scattered pillows to reach for a slice of pizza, biting down as the savory Mediterranean flavors—tangy olives, creamy feta, and fresh basil—exploded across his tongue.

Well done, Tirreoy! Maybe this place wasn’t completely hopeless.

“Okay, I’ll give you this—the food here isn’t terrible,” he said around another bite.

“High praise coming from a man who considers gas station hot dogs gourmet,” she retorted.

He watched her settle gracefully on the bed, her legs folded to the side, almost primly, like the princess she was. She held the chocolate milk carton between her fingers with the grace of a socialite holding a wine glass, her pinky slightly extended.

“Are you seriously trying to make chocolate milk look dignified?” he asked, fighting an urge to laugh.

“Everything I do is dignified,” she said with mock hauteur, then proceeded to take a long drink directly from the carton, which completely undermined her royal bearing.

His hands itched to steal the chocolate milk from her, take turns drinking from that carton while they put on the TV and he ran his toes over those blue nails, maybe pulled her close enough to—

And this was his best friend’s little sister!

The pizza literally turned to dust in his mouth as realization crashed over him.

Oh, there was that heart he didn’t know existed, and it was doing gymnastics in his chest like an overeager teenager.

If he stayed here a second longer, he’d break every rule he’d just made.

Stop hanging around her.

He dropped the pizza back in the box and scooped up his phone. “Hey, um… gotta take a call, and it might take a while, so I’m just going to… move to the couch.”

She stared at him in bewilderment, looking beautiful and utterly adorable with her legs tucked beneath her like a cat.

The sight of her tore at something deep in his chest as he forced himself to turn away.

Her inviting looks told him everything he needed to know—she’d been scared to marry him, and he’d sensed her nerves had been on edge at being alone with him tonight, but he’d also detected a gleam of curiosity when they’d locked gazes—he might even mistake that for…

interest? Yeah, it wouldn’t have been long until they were drowning their sorrows in chocolate milk and even more sugary kisses.

“You’re leaving? On our wedding night?” Her voice was sharp with disbelief.

“Business call,” he said, already moving toward the door. “Can’t be helped.”

He noticed her shoulders stiffen in fury. “Okay, Scaredy cat… but this is a record… even for you!”

“What?”

“Breaking hearts then running away.” She stretched back against her pillows with feline grace, then shrugged with absolute indifference. “Too bad I don’t have one to break.”

His mouth went dry. The way she watched him like he was mildly entertaining, all while looking utterly untouchable—it was devastating. The only thing that gave away her depth of emotion was the flash in her golden eyes.

Yeah, seconds away from kissing. The smart thing would be to keep walking. The safe thing. The right thing.

Achilles closed the door behind him with the most decisive click in his life. He set up camp on the plush sofa in their sitting room, grabbing a throw pillow and trying to get comfortable on the expensive but unforgiving cushions. Bris deserved to be truly loved, thoroughly, and in every way.

What would it be like to be that man?

His eyes drifted to the closed bedroom door.

He half laughed, half groaned. Venice… remember your promise to Venice!

Bris would make him pay for taking a call on their wedding night, but she was a firecracker—one explosion and it was over.

Venice… well, he was terrifying. His best friend was the type who took his revenge cold, carving it up methodically with his sharpest knife, and yeah, Achilles would be the Sunday roast in this analogy.

His phone buzzed in his hand like an angry wasp. For one terrible moment, he thought it was Charisse, until he saw his sister’s name flash across the screen. He answered immediately. “Gena!”

“A bodyguard, Achilles? Really? He’s following my every move. I can’t go anywhere without him insisting he tag along!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building. “Yeah, well… things have changed.”

“I’ll say they have!” Gena shouted, her voice crackling through the phone.

“You didn’t even invite me to the wedding.

I had to find out through Deedee’s channel on TalkieTalk.

” His stomach dropped like a stone. Gena wasn’t into social media—she barely tolerated having a phone.

If she’d seen it already, how many millions of others had?

“Are you really that afraid to be close to me that you wouldn’t tell me about your own wedding? ”

“Wait… whoa!” Horror filled him at the suggestion, making his voice crack. “No, that is not why I did that.”

“You really hurt me, Achilles.” She sniffed and he could tell that she was crying, her voice thick with tears that made his chest ache.

“Hey, hey!” He’d always been helpless around tears, especially hers. “Gena, you know I love you more than anything. We’re going to figure this out, okay? You and me—we’re going to be okay.”

“Okay?” She shrieked, her voice climbing to a pitch that made him wince. “You know how to make things okay? Call back that man you have shadowing my every move.”

He groaned, running his free hand through his hair.

He’d known this would be her reaction—Gena had always been fiercely independent, more likely to climb out a window than accept help.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Life isn’t going to be…

the same—you’re going to be a target, and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. ”

She turned silent, and somehow that was worse than the shouting.

“None of us saw this coming,” he said quietly.

True to Gena form, she picked up on his darkening mood immediately. “You don’t sound like yourself,” she said, her voice softening with concern. “Is it Bris? You know she’s crazy about you, right? If you break her heart…”

He cut her off before she could finish that threat. “I won’t.” His eyes ran back to the closed door, guilt twisting in his stomach. “Look, I’ll feel a whole lot better about this if I know you’re safe.”

“This bodyguard you put on me is going to make it impossible to do my job,” she grumbled, but he could hear her starting to cave. “Do you know what it will be like going into homes and helping kids pronounce their ‘r’s’ and ‘s’s’ while some burly guy is breathing down my neck?”

A deep, gravelly voice rumbled in the background: “I can wait in the car, My Lady.”

Achilles winced. The poor guy had probably gotten an earful when he came.

“Oh, now you back off!” Gena shot back at the bodyguard. “After ruining my date tonight!”

He groaned, feeling the ache spread down his neck. “Make it work, Gena.” His sympathy was waning, especially since he felt so helpless about all of this already. “For now… we can revisit this later when things start to calm down.”

“That had better be a promise,” she said firmly. “I can tell you’re trying to get off the phone. It’s your wedding night, but… Bris is perfect for you. You know that right? Don’t let your pride get in the way of a really good thing.”

That wasn’t the problem, but the last thing he was going to do was rip open his heart and bare all his problems to his little sister. She had enough going on right now.

“Okay, thanks… I’m going to uh… do what’s right.”

She groaned audibly. “Achilles, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of! When you start talking about ‘doing what’s right,’ you usually do something completely stupid and self-sacrificing—”

He cut that off before she could really get going. “I got to go, okay. I love you. Don’t take this out on the burly guy. Bye.”

He lowered his phone with shaking hands, feeling like he’d run a marathon, especially when he saw that Charisse had written about twenty more texts, each one more heartbroken and desperate than the last. Her messages ranged from confused to angry to pleading, an emotional rollercoaster that made his chest tight with guilt.

Taking a deep breath, he typed in a careful, brief answer.

“No choice, honey. I’ll explain later. I’m sorry. ”

The bubbles immediately rippled up, disappeared, then rippled up again… then disappeared. Could he take that as her goodbye?

The antique clock on the mantle ticked steadily against the wall, each second stretching like an eternity. Achilles picked up his pillow, adjusted it, punched it, then threw it aside, his gaze inevitably drawn back to the door where he’d left his wife… and perhaps even that pizza.

Could he go back?

Gena was so sure that he should make it work, that Bris was perfect for him. He was legally married to this woman—was it so bad to want to scoop her up next to him, enjoy a few more slices of that divine Tirrojan delicacy, and watch her fall asleep in his arms?

There was a workout room downstairs, weights, a pool, a snack bar if he was lucky.

He rolled off the couch and headed for the gym, determined to push himself to the brink of exhaustion so he’d have no strength left for the kind of mischief that would get him murdered by his best friend.