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

The fact that the older man was even speaking to him said something.

Chises Mnon would be going right back to his chilly snubs after he saw that Achilles still had no intention of bending to his will.

After all, the man had secretly had Achilles’s father assassinated and sent his mother into hiding with the Myrdons—what was that to getting cut off?

Finding Charisse’s hand again, Achilles traveled the long pathway that split before him in the crowd of guests.

Sure enough, Chises Mnon turned as glacial as an ice sculpture the instant he noticed Achilles’s latest defiance.

Seeing an open chair, Achilles released Charisse so she could sit down.

She adjusted her silky blue dress to sit in her ladylike pose.

In any other circumstance, he’d be congratulated for finding such a proper mate.

Achilles swiped the microphone from the older man’s frozen grip, grinning angrily at him, though he knew his gaze had turned as hard as the one currently steeling the face of his nemesis. “My pleasure, Your Royal Highness.”

Swinging around, he noticed Venice assisting his wife to sit next to him on the chairs left open in front of the microphone. Nice and close, so as to give Achilles something else to look at other than Chises Mnon’s furious expression—as satisfying as that was.

“Well, Venice, I’m glad I’m the first to wish you happy.

We’ve been the best of friends.” His eyes shifted to Bris sitting at the table behind them with his sister, Gena, their olive skin stunning in gold silk, though Bris looked ready to bolt from her chair at any moment, her bare feet swinging against the flowing fabric of the tablecloth. How could anyone not notice her?

He took a steadying breath. “Growing up together gave us the best and worst of each other, and somehow we still managed to stay friends. The best of friends.”

He noticed Bris’s lips were pale. Gena sulked next to her. The two of them looked like they’d just been served cold brussels sprouts instead of wedding cake.

He plowed ahead. “And now you’ve found someone special, and even though I miss the old times we’ve had, I know that things are only going to be better.

Livvy is your other half, buddy, and with her, you’re going to do great things together.

You’re closer to being the man you were always meant to be.

” He hoped that meant Venice tossed his father’s proposition to rule Tirreoy into his smug, condescending face, but that would take a miracle.

And yet, with Livvy standing by his side, anything was possible.

“I couldn’t be prouder or happier for you.

” And now it was time to declare his own independence.

His eyes shifted to Charisse. “Here’s to the future!

Here’s to moving on to better and more exciting opportunities. ”

Bris lifted her glass. “Here, here!” She stood and headed for the microphone.

Her bare feet padded beneath the seductive sway of her gold gown.

“To moving on!” Meeting her eyes, he steeled himself against the depths of turbulent emotions he found behind her gaze.

Her hands found his in her search for the microphone, and he stiffened as the heat radiated through them before he surrendered the spotlight to the spitfire.

“I’ve a few things to add to that,” Bris declared. “Venice, Livvy! Thanks for showing me the way. We make our own destinies and—and we can also find the same kind of happiness that—that you have.” Her eyes watered as she stared at her brother.

The girl hid her sorrow just about as well as her temper.

The Bris he knew couldn’t keep a thing back—that’s why Achilles couldn’t stop provoking her at every turn.

He delighted in unwrapping the soul that no one else could touch.

And that wasn’t his right anymore. That didn’t stop him from trying to figure out what she was saying anyway.

Venice smiled encouragingly at his sister, his hand tightening over Livvy’s.

“I will miss our old times t-together…” she said, “but we’re all going on to something better. Thanks for showing us how love can be. Now that you’ve done it, you don’t make it look so bad.” Her eyes swerved to the gaping Sir Jax Montgomery. “Maybe we all should try it.”

Achilles groaned inwardly when he realized she was threatening to follow in her brother’s footsteps.

He’d kill that pale Sir Stack-of-Sticks if she tried it, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine how enjoyable of a job it would be keeping back all those would-be suitors from her.

He could continue to peel away more of her layers—making her laugh.

Next, he’d pick at her walls and get her to throw her arms around him or stomp her blue toenails against the ground before he swept her off her feet to figure out this love thing for themselves.

His stomach sank at the direction of his thoughts. Chises Mnon couldn’t have set the bait for Achilles more perfectly—if he went through with the old man’s schemes of an arranged marriage, he could have the woman of his dreams forever and with that… his soul sold to the devil.

“Your future is bright with new surprises and adventures at every corner,” Bris told the newly married couple.

“So, what do you get the man who has everything?” She held up a folded slip of paper and started unfolding it.

“Well… Congratulations, you’re now the proud owners of the most expensive pile of rocks off the coast of Tirreoy.

” She grinned. Her brother had gotten nothing from her mother’s inheritance, seeing as Creusa had been just his stepmother.

That meant Venice was completely dependent on their father, but now it looked like Bris was trying to change that.

“No, but really—I’m transferring Dulichium Holdings to you. ”

Venice looked shocked. “You gave me an island, Bris?”

“I know it might look like just rocks and olive trees in the middle of nowhere, but it’s yours—free and clear, no one breathing down your neck. From my mother’s estate, so now… you have full claim.”

Their father couldn’t say a thing. Achilles was astounded at the sacrifice. Finally, his best friend had something of his own. Venice’s eyes watered. “Bris, I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” She tried to laugh it off, but her voice caught. “Besides, it’s got to be worth more than my shares in the Tyndarian Offshore Holdings.”

Venice grumbled out a laugh. Those weren’t even worth the paper they were printed on, thanks to terrorists making the Island of Aeaea completely off-limits.

She pulled out the legal documents, already signed. “At least this way, when you’re king, you’ll have somewhere that’s entirely yours. Just… don’t turn it into a casino… or a refuge for dinosaurs.”

Trust Bris to bring this back to dinosaurs. She was a little obsessed with them.

Her brother glanced over at Livvy with wide eyes, and his bride jumped up and hugged Bris, wrapping them both up in the microphone cord. “Thank you, sis!”

Bris nodded and patted her back in return, looking more subdued after her gift was accepted.

Livvy released her, and Bris carefully untangled herself before handing off the microphone to her new sister-in-law.

“You should probably take this before I trip someone.” The bride accepted it with a grin, and Bris turned to hug her brother.

“I love you, Venice!” Her fingers tightened over his back, and Achilles tensed, seeing how she was truly reluctant to let him go.

Why? Did her brother stand between her and their father’s control?

Immediately, a strange protectiveness overcame him, and he wished he could gather Bris in his own hug, assure her that no one could hurt her.

It took everything in Achilles to resist—for her sake too. He wouldn’t be the only slave to her father if he gave in.

He turned to Charisse with a forced grin. “We’ll have to visit their new island paradise.”

She giggled and caught his arm, forcing him to sit down next to her. “Only if you promise to find us our own place there.”

Achilles caught the sharp intake of breath as Bris turned sharply away.

Chises Mnon seized the mic next. His hard gaze ran from Achilles to his daughter before they turned on his son.

“How delightfully convenient that this charming getaway lies within such proximity to Tirreoy. The people you serve won’t care to have you gone long.

Your true obligations, of course, await you in the capitol. ”

And he’d just effectively killed the happy mood.

“My affairs are all well in hand,” Venice retorted. His stiff jaw brooked no further argument. “I’ve appointed trusted advisors to fill in when it is necessary for me to leave.” His eyes drifted to his wife, and it was clear that they’d discussed this development together.

“Yes, yes,” his father cut in. “Sir Phoenix of Stavros, of course.”

“No, Phoenix won’t be necessary,” Venice said. “He is due for retirement.”

His father froze in cold disbelief. Venice was fighting back in front of everyone and at his own wedding. Achilles had never been so proud… or quite so uneasy when he noticed that enraged flash in Chises Mnon’s eye.

Bris and Venice were blind to their father’s baser nature—they’d been so sure that their father hadn’t killed his, telling Achilles never to believe the Myrdon’s lies, and yet Achilles had felt of their father’s cruelty firsthand.

The man would do anything to secure his rule. Couldn’t Venice see that?

The reception had fallen into an eerie hush, champagne glasses frozen halfway to lips as hundreds of guests hung on every word.

Chises Mnon quickly smoothed his features, burying his fury beneath a politician’s mask and turning to the crowd with a practiced smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give the happy couple some space to enjoy their cake!

” His commanding tone carried through the tent, jovial but firm.

The band immediately struck up again, and servers began circulating with champagne.

He whipped around to his son like a furious bear. “This is the time you decide to disobey my wishes? With civil war boiling just below the surface?”

Uh oh… the mic was still live!

“Especially with that threat,” Venice answered evenly. “Now is the time to appoint a trusted staff. Certain arrangements were found… unacceptable.”

Now that was a mic drop if Achilles ever heard one.

This was far more rebellious than Achilles toting around the girl that wasn’t Chises Mnon’s choice of bride into the fray. Did Venice have any idea what sort of force he was going up against?

Only then did Chises Mnon notice the sea of rapt faces staring up at them, realizing too late that they’d broadcasted their explosive argument.

To make things worse, a few camera phones were out to collect the evidence.

Chises Mnon made a sharp gesture to cut the microphone, the damage already done—Venice had just publicly challenged his father in front of every powerful family in the kingdom.

“We’ll discuss these politics… later,” his father promised in a hiss that promised retribution.

Venice took on a bored look that Achilles recognized as barely concealed defiance. “Yes, I’ll inform you of my other appointments after my honeymoon.”

And that was a dismissal. Good for him. Venice had never been more ready to rule Tirreoy than now—ironic since the man who’d forced him to the throne was likely second-guessing his decision to put him there.

Chises Mnon grinned in a chilly grimace that was infinitely more terrifying than his anger. “Yes, of course! This is your wedding. Let’s put this political talk behind us and enjoy the rest of this evening. We have much to do.”