Page 23 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)
His meaning was vague but unsettling—he’d want to use the military to get what he wanted, possibly on the Island of Aeaea where the bulk of the country’s riches were guarded from them.
Was this what her father meant by making strategic connections with the High Consortium?
She didn’t care anymore. She wanted out.
Bris drew herself up to her full height—which unfortunately only brought her to his shoulder.
She was trapped between his imposing frame and the towering bookshelves.
He showed no intention of moving. “If you’ll excuse me…
” She wasn’t above shoving him out of the way.
She was small, but she had a mean left hook.
But his next words stopped her cold: “I think you’re going to need a friend to confide in—one with the power to make or break you.
” That sounded more like a threat than an offer, and she froze, every instinct screaming danger as she faced her first real encounter with deadly court intrigue.
“It must be terribly difficult being married to a man with such divided loyalties.”
To her or to something else? “I’m sorry, but are you playing at being my marriage counselor?”
His eyes hardened like blue ice. Apparently, he wasn’t as amused by her sharp tongue as Achilles was. “Isn’t your husband’s mother aligned with the Myrdons? He is their prince… in a way. A dangerous way.”
Her clenching stomach was beginning to hurt. Her father had meant to use Achilles’s connections to bring the country together. Was it a misalliance to some? “The Myrdons have their own prince,” she said carefully.
“Aggie Mnon—I’ve heard disturbing rumors about him. Or is he still rotting in prison? That’s where political dissidents belong, not sharing your marriage bed.”
She gasped at his crudeness. No longer caring about being diplomatic to this monster who might fund all of Tirreoy, she only wanted to escape. Her elbow shot into his ribs as she tried to slip past him.
He caught her wrist—not playfully like Achilles had when they wrestled, but brutally, vengefully, his fingers digging into her so hard that she had to stop struggling to keep him from snapping her bones.
“No matter how civilized we pretend to be, we still must find ways to dispose of these undesirables.” His eyes raked over her with undisguised desire.
“I wonder what your husband is discussing with his lover right now… will it be a shocking interlude or another betrayal altogether?”
“I’m not listening to this a second longer!”
But that didn’t stop him from hissing out these disgusting suspicions: “The Oshear heiress possesses a considerable bank account. I hear her father funds far too many questionable causes… there is rumor that he backed the man who betrayed your father—General Peleus, was it. Oh… isn’t that Achilles’s father?
” Of course, it was—he hadn’t just come up with that!
“Looks like the little American heiress and your boy toy have a long history together! I’m sure they’re mixing business with pleasure as we speak? ”
Bris let out a derisive laugh, even while his poisonous insinuations wormed their way through her veins.
The terrible truth was that she had no idea what to believe anymore.
How well did she really know her husband?
She’d never guessed he’d joined the rebels years earlier.
He’d supposedly renounced that connection, but… had he really?
“Now why should the Myrdons have all the fun?” His thumb traced across her lower lip, making her want to slap him. “You are an exquisite woman… I will be your… friend.”
She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t break free from his iron grip.
She’d always been strong… or thought she had been, but maybe that was only because she’d been surrounded by men who made her feel that way.
“Let me go or Achilles will hunt you down and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.” Even if he felt nothing romantic for her, her husband would defend her! That’s how deep their friendship ran.
The Earl’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You love that Myrdon rat, don’t you? Oh, this is deliciously tragic. You’re in for a heartbreak. I can almost find it in myself to pity you. He’ll only use you and throw you away.”
“I’m going to scream in exactly three seconds.” He didn’t need to know that she didn’t have enough breath in her to do it.
She didn’t trust that wolfish grin. “You’re every bit as feisty as he said.”
Who was “he?” She whipped her head around, searching for escape.
In that instant, Deedee’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby. “Bris? You back here, Bestie?”
No, no! That phone camera would capture a story that was far from reality…
it could! She could use this. Bris might only be able to whisper through her fear, but she infused as much threat into it as she could.
Her eyes locked on the Earl. “You want to go viral in the worst possible way?” Her gaze flicked toward Deedee’s approaching silhouette.
“She’s got a TalkieTalk channel with millions of followers…
she might even be livestreaming right now. ”
Immediately, his grip loosened on her aching wrist. Afraid this meant her father’s wrath, and stuffing all regret for a botched diplomatic mission away, Bris hiked up her satin skirt as much as the narrow cut would allow, fleeing like an ogre hunted her steps.
“See you soon, darling,” his voice ripped through the air and would replay in her nightmares. “I’ll be waiting for you when your husband turns his back on you again.”
She twisted, seeing the Earl moving in on her, almost casually, like an axe murderer in a slasher. “Come back to me, my dear.”
Taking a deep breath, she whipped away, not finding Deedee.
Please say she’d traveled on to another room; even so, the TalkieTalk star had played the perfect distraction.
Bris’s heels slid over the marble like a newborn giraffe on ice, and she stopped to rip them off, before dashing through the hallway’s palatial maze.
They’d make the perfect weapons, but now she was hoping desperately not to get lost, when suddenly Phoenix materialized at her elbow.
“Your Royal Highness, were you looking for me?” His tone was professionally neutral, as if nothing had happened.
“No!” she gasped, still in shock as she rubbed her aching wrist where purple bruises were already forming.
“Not you…” Her nose wrinkled in fury and disbelief.
Why would her father expose her to such scandal and abuse at the Earl’s brutal hands?
“Thank you for that enlightening lesson in court politics. I won’t be requiring any more tutorials in the future. ”
Shooting away from this traitor, she stormed through the hallway, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her completely.
She just wanted to cry! Why had Achilles abandoned her now, of all times?
And what was this talk of him possibly still working with the Myrdons?
Her body felt cold and prickly all at once.
She noticed Phoenix followed her like a persistent shadow—now he was doing his job, and the problem was that he’d been doing it before too.
The ballroom loomed before she swung around to face him.
“Why did you leave me alone with him?” She kept her voice low to avoid attracting attention, but couldn’t suppress the anger, fear, and revulsion coursing through her.
Phoenix muttered something about following her father’s orders.
She knew it! The horror of her worst suspicions becoming reality crashed over her. Her fingers curled into fists. “Are you actually suggesting that my father wanted me to… work with that—that creep?”
He hesitated far too long while terrible possibilities raced through her mind like panicked rabbits until finally he shook his head. “Never! These are the low lives he warned you about.”
An object lesson? Or a test? Knowing her father, it was both. She let out a shiver of disgust. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
“It won’t be necessary.”
They entered the ballroom where guests immediately turned toward her, their chatter dying as they began whispering among themselves. She noticed the open balcony doors where Achilles had disappeared with Charisse. They still hadn’t returned.
Perhaps they’re mixing business with pleasure as we speak?
A wave of utter despair washed over her as the Earl’s unholy prophetic words shook her to the core—betrayed by everyone who was supposed to protect her. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most. She couldn’t depend on anyone!
“We’ll leave the political alliances to your husband,” Phoenix said, his raised eyebrow the only sign of his disapproval. “If you cannot secure his attentions, then he would do well to learn discretion.”
Bris’s cheeks burned with shame. Foolish little doormat, accepting abuse from everyone. Why am I being such a stupid dishrag?
That was it! She was not part of King Henry VIII’s court! She was dragging Achilles away from that home-breaker even if she had to grab him by his thick, unruly hair like a caveman.
He might not love her, but he couldn’t just…
just… No! When the cat’s away, the mice will play—the Earl had demonstrated that principle perfectly.
Hadn’t Achilles promised Venice he’d protect her?
Ignoring the part of her that didn’t want him to love anyone else, she broke away from Phoenix and stalked toward the balcony to find her wayward husband.
She was putting down some rules!