Page 5 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Chapter Three

W ho needed men anyway?

Bris bristled when Achilles stole another glance at her. Sheesh! At this point, he’d be worse than Sir Jax Montgomery, only Achilles was more stubborn and refused to approach her after his disastrous threat of what he’d do if she slipped off with that guy.

She should grab Montgomery first chance she got, just to show Achilles that he didn’t rule her—or her heart.

Her loyalty to her brother kept her in one place. After the speeches, they cut the cake and had gone through the promised dances until, grabbing her sparklers, Bris joined a line of guests leading them to the limo decorated in soda cans and whipped cream.

The author of this masterpiece laughed beside her.

If anyone should be down in the dumps, it was Deedee, or Deedeelicious as she was known on her viral videos on TalkieTalk.

The redhead was Venice’s ex-girlfriend and Livvy’s best friend, but she was in great spirits.

She danced her sparklers through the air, glancing over at Bris.

“Hey, Sugarpop. Spill the tea—Achilles found more arm candy, huh?”

Bris wasn’t in the mood to make the social media star her confidante. “Yes, they look great together.”

“Not to be rude,” Deedee said, “but that’s not going to last.”

Oh yeah, Deedee had dated Achilles too. Well… “dating” was a strong name for it—the two had flirted nonstop during the same trip that Venice had found Livvy, and Bris suspected it was to get Venice’s ex off his back… with benefits. Deedee probably knew what she was talking about firsthand.

Bris rolled her eyes. “You think you know him so well?”

“Yeah, the guy has it bad for you. He can’t stop watching you.”

Spinning around to Deedee, Bris noticed the girl filming her own sparklers with her phone camera.

“Can you hold the camera for me,” Deedee asked, as if she hadn’t just announced the most explosive thing she could since their uneasy acquaintance. “Livvy can’t help—she’s a little busy with her man right now.”

Bris didn’t move.

“I might do a piece about the two of you on my social media,” Deedee said, “… so I can crow how right I was when you two finally tie the knot.” She giggled.

“You both were hilarious giving your best man, bridesmaid speeches. Ha! I kept the camera on you the whole time and on your toenail polish—I think I’ll edit the speeches so that you’re both side by side, and I’ll cut to your longing looks at each other and everything… ”

“What do you want?” Bris asked her in all seriousness. Her sparkler was sputtering out in her hand.

“More followers. Duh.”

“No, how much, I mean, for the footage? How much will you take for it?”

“Ah no, babes. I’ve got my reporter’s integrity to protect.” Deedee finished filming her dying sparklers and then turned to Bris. “And now I just caught you attempting to bribe me to keep your pride intact.”

“Relax!” Bris snapped. “I’m just trying to stop any rumors from coming out. Scandal is the last thing this family needs and… anyway, don’t you care that this might overshadow Livvy’s wedding? She’s your best friend…”

“And I want my fun. Admit it, Bris, you weren’t very nice to me on that yacht.”

“I wonder why,” Bris muttered under her breath. She was beginning to devise all sorts of ways to get the better of this harpy. In the meantime, her brother and Livvy danced down the aisle of mostly burnt-out sparklers to the tune of happy cheers.

Livvy got ready to throw her bouquet made up of ribbons, dreams, and fairy-tale endings behind her. Deedee planted herself in front of Bris, about three heads taller than her and with a reach of a basketball player. She’d try to steal the bouquet too! Nuh uh. Not without a fight she wouldn’t!

The bouquet flew in a beautiful white cloud, and Bris lunged, her bare toes springing from the smooth cement. She knocked Deedee aside. The bundle of white roses, trailing ivy, and delicate sprigs of jasmine landed in Bris’s hands with a thud.

Oh no, no, no! She’d caught the bouquet!

Too late, she saw Deedee’s camera on her and heard her laughing voice. “Oooh, next to be married! I know exactly who Bris wishes would pop the question!” Deedee spun around with that horrible camera phone of hers and caught Achilles to the side of them.

Bris’s hands gripped the bouquet in a killing grip, watching on miserably as the guy she’d loved since they were kids fumbled for Charisse’s hand like a football. Deedee gave a delighted chortle. “Oh wow! Nice cover story, hero!”

Letting out a scornful snort, Bris tore away from them all, following her brother down the aisle as he tenderly handed his bride into the limousine. They kissed as he closed the door, leaving Bris watching on wistfully.

Was this happy future in her cards or was she doomed to suffer the lonely fate of Prissy Kissy Poo?

If she was being truthful, she knew the answer to that.

The breeze whipped the gold fabric against her legs.

Holding tightly to the fragrant flowers with one hand, she wiped at her eyes with the other, pretending they were watering her cheeks because she was so delighted.

And she was. Venice meant everything to her. He was finally becoming his own man. Everything he’d said earlier proved that.

A hand landed against her back. Expecting Gena, she jumped when she saw her father instead.

He looked so much like her brother at that instant that more than anything, she wanted to lean into him and cry into his strong chest and confide in him her worries, so that he’d tell her she would be fine, like Venice would’ve.

But… it had never been that way between them.

His grip moved to her arm next. “I’ll have a few words with you, Briseis.” His whisper could be a shout for how forcefully it invaded her ears.

And one thought consumed her… if Bris was unhappy now, whatever news he was about to deliver would make her even more so.

She could put up a fuss, but he’d talk to her regardless, and so she allowed him to take her up the marbled steps, past the spray of fountains and into the lavish foyer. His private study was at the top of the stairs, away from the hustle and bustle of the wedding.

He ushered her inside, giving her no chance of escape. The door closed on the celebrations, and she stood against the wall, her fingers clenched into the stems of white roses.

Her father smirked when he saw them. “You caught the bouquet, did you?”

She lifted them in a half-hearted gesture. “I’d better get on it. There was a guy making eyes at me near the tent. A Sir Jax Montgomery—who knows? It could be love.”

“Don’t play with me, Bris.” Her father’s gravelly voice immediately silenced her. He pulled out a chair. “Sit down.”

Swallowing, Bris moved as slowly as she could to the proffered chair. His hand shook on the arms, his shoulders stiff with impatience. As soon as she was within reach, he snagged her wrist and tugged her into the seat where he faced her with a glare, his strong nose an inch from hers.

This was the moment, wasn’t it? He was going to offer ultimatums that would force her into tricking Achilles into marrying her, and she would have to show him as much pluck as Venice had earlier.

It wouldn’t be too hard to refuse him, right? After all, Achilles had just proved that he wanted nothing to do with her. Surely, that would convince her father that it was never going to happen. And still he didn’t speak.

“Father,” she managed to work around her frozen tongue. “What is it?”

“You’re ruling Tirreoy under my direction, do you understand?”

Her stomach curled in on itself. This was worse than she thought. “Me?”

“You and the Duke. Achilles shall be your prince consort, and you shall be queen. I’ve already arranged the marriage. It is happening tonight.”

Impossible, Achilles would never go for it, and still she didn’t argue. Her father looked half mad with rage. “H-how?” she asked.

“Never mind how. It’s already a done deal. Don’t bother finding a dress. That one will do.”

Oh, no he didn’t! Gold just wasn’t done! She’d dreamed about her wedding since childhood! She had every intention of being a Bridezilla, color coordinating her bridesmaids, securing a destination wedding, the works! “What about Venice?”

“What about him? He’s not fit to be king. I should’ve seen that long ago.”

She let out a breath. Venice had gone too far with his show of rebellion. He should’ve gone about it more stealthily, pulled the rug out from under her father after it was too late.

Her father spun away from her—blessedly getting out of her face as he headed for his desk—that hated desk where every official paper was signed.

She noticed the marriage certificate and felt hysteria bubble through her veins.

This wasn’t real. None of this was real. Achilles wouldn’t let it go through.

But if he didn’t agree to marry her in the end, then who would her groom be? Her father’s face was set, and he looked determined to make her go through with ruling the kingdom that had long ago banished them.

Bris felt cold and frigid with fear. “Y-you can’t do this,” she whispered.

“What did you say?” Her father turned sharply.

How could he not expect her to object, but she had a stronger argument than her own? “Achilles won’t do it.” Her father had to understand that.

“Of course, he will.”

“Father!” He’d gone mad—that was all there was to it.

Things like this didn’t happen in this modern age, right?

It was about as ridiculous as hiding out as a secret princess.

Her hand still clasped those flowers. They felt cold and clammy under her fingers.

“Please, just give Venice time to prove himself.”