Page 56 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

C harisse smelled the same as he remembered.

Jasmine and bergamot—a distinctly Mediterranean blend that reminded Achilles of sun-drenched Greek islands. The scent used to draw him in like a siren’s call, but now it did nothing for him.

How could it with the glimpses of tears he’d spied threatening to spill over his wife’s pale cheeks when she’d confided everything her father had told her?

He wasn’t sure why she’d broken her silence, or what she hoped to accomplish, except to push him away.

It was all he could do to convince her to give him more time, before she attempted to sacrifice herself like a tropical princess throwing herself in a volcano for her people.

“Hello?” Charisse’s voice sounded distant, like background music from another room. “Are you with me?”

He glanced over at Charisse while they danced—she was light as air, and quite honestly, he had nearly forgotten she was in his arms, her blue silk gown a stark contrast to the white and gold masterpiece that made Bris look every inch the future queen, even with her carefully applied makeup to cover her bruises.

Tear your thoughts from your wife already!

This conversation was essential for putting to work those ghosts haunting him from his past—they were the key to the present.

Charisse was talking about the flood. “My father agreed to help with relief funds for your people. It’s the least I can do for a friend. ”

A friend? His whole body relaxed at the thought.

Yes, she was his one ally in this snake pit.

Once again, his gaze drifted to where Bris stood—this time in animated conversation with the Earl.

What were they discussing? Judging from his wife’s wildly flailing arms, it was nothing pleasant.

His hands tightened on Charisse’s waist to prevent himself from marching over and punching the Earl in his smug face. He should’ve done it earlier.

“Are you okay?” Charisse whispered.

His attention snapped back to her. The tender expression in her blue eyes was like balm in a world of chaos, and like a dying man, he scrambled to steady his tilting world.

“No,” he said, then immediately regretted being so open.

There had to be better ways to get his ex to talk.

“How could your father think mine was ever a hero?”

He is far from that! A murderer, a traitor, a monster.

And he said none of those things. She was already stiff with discomfort. “You looked into C.I.R.C.E. then?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to believe, to be honest.” If anyone knew the truth behind the government propaganda, then her father should.

And he had to keep his eye on that snake of an earl. He twirled Charisse, using the movement to glance over her shoulder at his wife. Bris had broken away from Dimitri, and the man was nowhere to be seen.

His mother’s warning burned through his senses, putting him on high alert. Where had he slithered off to? Nothing changed the fact that Bris’s life was in danger tonight.

He scanned the ballroom, noticing his sister in an elegant red silk gown that made her olive complexion come alive in Grecian perfection. And Dominique’s firm hand was against her back.

Achilles felt his jaw tighten. Now that he knew her bodyguard was sent by Chises Mnon to act as a prison guard to keep him in line, he had to think of a way to break her free.

The man had dressed in a tux meant to blend in with the crowd, but that was impossible with the broad military set of his shoulders.

There had to be a way to get around him.

“Achilles? Are you okay?” His eyes shifted to Charisse. She nibbled on her lower lip like she was afraid to say more. “I’m sorry about your father.”

He was seriously bad at this interrogation thing. “Me too. Did your father say more… about mine?”

“Only that he was a good man,” she whispered, “before… he left for Aeaea.”

So, his mother had corrupted him with the Myrdon philosophy. “Then it’s true.” Achilles’s heart sank as he said it.

“I’m sorry, Achilles. My father didn’t want to go into it at all, only that he wanted to remember the man that he used to be before the… rumors. He has no idea what he’s become now!”

“Now?” This time she’d caught his full attention. “Who he is now?” he repeated.

Charisse was back to biting those perfect rosebud lips in her distress, and she nodded, the loose strands of her blonde curls wisping around her jaw. “I thought you already knew!”

Knew what…? But Achilles knew; he’d suspected it ever since he’d talked to O Skia. “He’s still alive.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “The assassins who have gone after him have been unsuccessful so far. He’s on the Island of Aeaea—the civil unrest in those jungles have concealed him for years.

No one can get near for fear of terrorists and guerrillas, and so rumor is that he lives quite comfortably on the backs of those who live there. ”

“My father?” Again, he remembered how he’d shouted out his fears to Aggie Mnon when he’d tried to distract him from killing Bris. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Everything!”

“Would my father get involved in our politics?” But Achilles already knew the answer, didn’t need to ask it, only wanted the confirmation that this was the man who’d want his son on the throne, the spider who’d ally with the Myrdons and become the invisible hand that moved Achilles around like a chess piece.

Charisse’s face was pale with concern. “No, why should he come here? His life is in danger. If he steps one foot off his island, then Chises Mnon would…” she cut herself off before she said more.

“You’re not really that good at keeping anything back from me,” he said. “Your face says more than you think.”

She let out a resigned breath. “He’d order your father’s death if he came anywhere near you.

My father thinks he used you as bait to—to lure him closer.

I honestly think that’s why Chises Mnon took you and your sister into his home in the first place.

He’s always talking about smoking out the rats. ”

By using children as bait? It had worked perfectly!

His mother’s frantic warning, that useless ring thrust into his hands—all for nothing.

The Myrdons knew exactly what his father-in-law was planning, yet they’d all played along with this sick charade.

Atreus, Chises, his own father—willing to gamble everything, even innocent lives, for a chance at the crown.

And Bris was trapped right in the crossfire.

Cold panic hit him—she was the only thing standing between them and everything they’d ever craved.

Aggie Mnon’s hands felt like they were back around his throat, choking him while his taunts bled through his mind: “You should be thanking me for this opportunity. We’ve got great plans for you. ”

A surge of fury nearly overwhelmed him. Friend, foe, or family—he’d fight them all “Bris is in danger,” he growled.

The rose-colored sash across her bodice lifted at Charisse’s sharp intake of breath. “What? Now? At her coronation?”

His eyes swerved to where his wife stood beside her father on the elevated dais, the ancient Crown of Tirreoy glittering under the chandeliers on a velvet cushion between them. “My father has big plans for me.”

His mother had warned him—probably knew her children were all in danger because of the devils she’d married.

Two of them! That was a losing streak in his opinion, though perhaps she’d once believed in this twisted cause.

Atreus Mnon was on the outs with her. Could he have guessed she wasn’t on the same page?

“Big plans?” Charisse’s cheeks flushed bright red. “You actually think he’d go so far as to hurt your wife?”

He shook his head. “No.” Same playbook as with Aggie Mnon. “He’ll make the Myrdons do the dirty work.”

Now Charisse’s eyes were on the crown, wide with horror. Neither of them were dancing anymore, just standing like statues on the ballroom floor, watching Bris surrounded by well-wishers. “Can you warn her?” she whispered. “Stop this?”

Once again, all roads led to the Island of Aeaea.

He’d go there now, shake his father out of whatever tree he was hiding in and if that didn’t stop him?

Kill him with his bare hands—and that would leave Bris unprotected.

He couldn’t leave her behind in this court of cutthroats.

That meant taking her with him and hiding her where no one could find her.

“Charisse,” he said urgently. “Did you take a helicopter here?” She nodded, confusion creasing her soft features. “I need to borrow it. I’m going to Aeaea!”

She covered a gasp with her hand. Bris had given him tonight to do whatever he thought was necessary. Did she mean it? Would she go with him?

The music swelled to its crescendo and died away, replaced immediately by the ceremonial trumpets announcing the coronation’s beginning.

It was happening already. His heart danced around like a cowboy dodging bullets. If Chises Mnon thought he could outrun tonight’s threat by starting early, well… fat chance!

“I’ve got to take my wife out of here.” And he didn’t have much time.

Charisse exhaled slowly, her lashes temporarily concealing the emotion darkening her expression. “My feelings haven’t changed for you. You know that, right? I just need to know. Is there anything between us?”

He hesitated, already knowing the answer, and not having enough time to find a diplomatic way of telling her. “I’m sorry, Charrise. I love my wife.”

“Lords and ladies, distinguished guests.” Chises Mnon stepped forward, his substantial frame commanding attention as he raised his hands for silence. “Tonight, we witness the dawn of a new era for Tirreoy. My daughter, Briseis Mnon Tyndarian, will take her rightful place as your sovereign.”