Page 35 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

“That wasn’t on purpo—” She stopped, realizing he was teasing her again.

A smile tugged at her lips despite her efforts to suppress it.

“Okay, fine, mind your manners…” That ended with his hands buried in her hair again.

“Achilles!” Time for revenge. She shifted and leaned back against him, using his solid chest as a human pillow.

“Hold still or you’ll ruin my nail polish. ”

She was effectively trapping her husband behind her, but how else could she make him behave? His arms wrapped around her in response, pulling her closer until his chin dropped against her shoulder to watch the meticulous polish application. It took all her concentration to keep her hands steady.

“Bris? I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you…” Assassins? The Earl? She tensed instinctively. “About us,” he said carefully.

Her breath caught. Was he about to sacrifice himself to some greater political good again? “No,” she muttered. “Let’s just be normal people and enjoy the peace.”

He released a rough laugh that she felt vibrate against her cheek. She joined him with a light chuckle—they were so far beyond normal that it was amusing.

“Normal? You mean you want to go back to us constantly arguing? Start calling me Killiefish again?”

She made a face while covering another nail with pink polish. “I only did that because you put that dead fish in my shoe closet—you’re lucky I don’t call you Captain Cod!”

“Careful, Princess Prissy Poo… or I’ll make sure everyone adopts my nickname for you. One text to Deedeelicious will spread our secret to the world.”

“Truce!” she called out, setting the nail polish carefully on the side table. “Just for tonight!”

“Maybe I like our fighting.” He let out a mock growl and tackled her back against the plush mattress, but his movements were infinitely gentler than usual, carefully lowering her down. Still, the motion jarred her injured elbow, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Bris?” His eyes immediately scanned her face with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, cheeks flushing. How could she make him stop treating her like she was broken?

“I can handle whatever you dish out…” She stared up at him, watching his eyes darken with unmistakable emotion, feeling his warm breath against her lips.

This wasn’t playful fighting anymore. The energy crackling between them was undeniable.

“I like how you got those textbooks for those kids,” he said without missing a beat. “Most queens would make a decree and force their servants to deal with their lowly subjects. Don’t think I didn’t notice the time you’re putting into choosing just the right books.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed by how excited she’d been about the gifts.

So unlike the spoiled princess everyone thought she was.

“One small victory, I suppose.” She steadied her voice to hide her emotion, then traced the bruises on his knuckles to distract him.

“Most princes would have delegated the interrogation of evil assassins to their security teams.”

That was partly a sound scolding.

His smile was slow, though he immediately deflected the compliment with a grimace. “My turn—the new curtains in the throne room aren’t completely hideous.”

He’d actually noticed she’d changed those out? “Wait…” Her pulse quickened with unexpected pleasure. “We’re being nice now? Yuck.” She pretended to gag. “I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“We’ll survive somehow,” his voice had dropped to a rough whisper. The sincerity blazing in his dark eyes made her breath catch. “You’re going to be exactly the kind of queen who can heal this broken country.”

Yes, something fundamental had shifted between them. She could barely believe Achilles was finally treating her like a true partner… like his wife.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm, “we need to think bigger than selling off our personal holdings. This country’s real wealth is locked away on Aeaea Island—those offshore drilling rights could fund reconstruction for decades.”

She felt a flutter of unease. “But the Guerrillas control those territories. They’ve been sinking ships for years.”

“There are other ways to deal with their opposition,” he said. “Maybe we could negotiate. Buy them out.”

“Buy out terrorists?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“You have a better solution?” His tone was reasonable, but something in his eyes made her stomach tighten.

“Sometimes you have to work with unsavory people to find peace. We won’t have to be dependent on the High Consortium for their approval, on—on anybody!

” Was he referring to the Earl now? “The Myrdons have connections throughout the region—they might be willing to broker negotiations.”

The casual way he mentioned the Myrdons made her nervous. “I don’t know.”

“I’m just saying we need to consider all options. This country won’t heal through charity alone.”

His phone buzzed somewhere near her head, interrupting the suddenly tense moment. He looked like he wanted to say more but sighed instead. “Hold that thought.” His palm brushed past her hair as he reached for the insistent device, pressing it to his ear. “Yeah?”

Achilles stiffened at whatever he heard, then pushed up on his elbow with sudden urgency. “Keep him there. I’ll be right down.” He glanced at her with an unreadable expression. “Bris…? I’ll be back for you, okay?”

He pushed himself off the bed and headed for the door, not bothering to button his shirt or grab his discarded jacket. Her heart crashed against her ribs as she watched him leave as abruptly as the phone call had interrupted their surprisingly intimate moment.

She stared after him, replaying his words. I’m coming back for you? Was her husband actually flirting with her?

But what had happened to all his talk about her father’s interference, how this marriage wasn’t their choice, how he feared their relationship wouldn’t work? And why the sudden interest in Aeaea?

Her gaze drifted to the ring he’d left on the bedside table. And here was another mystery—if he was trying to say he wanted to give their marriage a real chance, why had he removed the symbol of their union?

She reached for it, turning the heavy gold over in her fingers.

The rubies caught the lamplight like captured stars set in an ornate cross that felt ancient under her touch.

She found something etched into the underside—tiny ant figures marching across the inner band.

She froze at the unmistakable symbol of the Myrdons.

Fear and revulsion rose in her throat, choking out all the happiness she’d felt moments before.

Why had Achilles hidden this from her? Her mind raced through terrible possibilities— his comment about working with the Myrdons suddenly took on sinister meaning.

The Earl’s warnings echoed in her memory : Achilles has divided loyalties… the Myrdons have their own prince.

He’d found her attackers suspiciously quickly.

He’d gotten Charisse alone to talk secretly with her.

And now he was finally warming up to Bris, just as he’d started talking about negotiating with terrorists.

What if Achilles only pretended to like her while he worked with the very rebels who wanted to destroy everything she cared about?

The ruby ring felt like it was burning her palm. She set it back on the table with shaking hands, her romantic dreams crumbling before her eyes.

Now she really was going to be sick.