Page 26 of Striking (Red Lips & White Lies #7)

“This is the Alexandra Tiara. It belongs to the queen of Mornea, and according to the manager of the royal jewels, it has been in my family for over two hundred years.” I carefully place it on her head and smile.

The detailed rose-cut diamond scrollwork brilliantly sparkles as it’s set in her hair. “It’s yours now, love.”

With trembling hands, she reaches up and adjusts the brilliant diadem slightly, so it doesn’t slip off her head as she turns back to the mirror. “Rhys... I can’t.”

“You can, Bellamy. It’s yours.” I rest my hands on her shoulders and stare at her beautiful reflection. “I plan to fuck you in nothing but this later, my love.”

I watch her eyes to see if they change.

If they caught my slip of the tongue.

But all I see is desire staring back at me.

“Happy New Year to me . . .” she giggles.

And what a new year it will be.

I take Bellamy’s arm in mine as we wait to be announced behind the doors to the ballroom. “Are you ready for this?”

A small smile graces her cherry-red lips, and I wonder how long we have to stay at the event. An hour? Two?

“One day, you’re going to ask me that, and I’m actually going to say yes.” There’s no mistaking the teasing in her voice. “But sadly, that’s not today. I have no idea how long it’s going to take for me to feel like this is my world.”

There are so many things I want to say to her.

Things I need her to believe.

But before I can, the doors open as we’re announced.

Time for the madness.

Unlike the tree lighting or the work Bellamy has been slowly taking on, tonight’s ball is massive and steeped in tradition. All of Mornea’s aristocracy is in attendance, and they all want a chance to meet their new queen.

Their queen who refuses to relinquish my arm.

Fine by me.

I have no problem spending the night by her side.

At least, not until my father catches us in his sights. Shit. I haven’t discussed my suspicions about my father with Bellamy. I was trying to protect her until I knew the truth. Part of me hoping I’m wrong, even if I’m certain I’m not.

That might be about to blow up in my face.

I lean into her and brush my lips over her ear. “This isn’t going to be good.”

“What...” The word dies on her lips as Father stops in front of us, a glass of scotch in one hand and an offensive look on his smug face.

We’ve never had a good relationship.

Atticus, Lennon, and I were part of his duty to the crown.

Marry the future queen. Produce heirs. Live your life fat, drunk, and happily doing whatever you please.

Never caring who you hurt in the process.

As a prince of Ellwyn, who’s fifth in line to that throne, my mother was his winning lottery ticket.

His one chance to be close to what he’s always wanted—power.

When she died, his chance died with her.

He was never a good father or a good husband.

And the day we buried her, he stopped bothering to pretend to be either.

“Rhys.” Father nods, ignoring Bellamy.

My blood boils beneath my skin at the blatant disrespect, but somehow, I mask my hatred and keep my voice low and steady. “Father, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Bellamy Windsor, my wife and your queen. You will show her the respect she deserves.”

I catch Atticus walking toward us out of the corner of my eye.

A look of warning on his face.

We’re being watched.

We’re always being watched.

“She’s. Not. My. Queen.”

Fuck no.

“Father,” Atticus chokes out through gritted teeth as he joins us, but it’s too late.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I growl, my chest vibrating with hatred, and the smug smile on his face is all the answer I need. “Get out.”

“I will do no such thing,” he snaps like he has a fucking choice. “You?—”

“I am your king, and you are no longer welcome in my home, Father.” I turn and nod at one of the guards, then wait as he approaches. “Please escort the duke out, and please advise the security team that he is no longer welcome.”

“Rhys . . .” Father sputters.

Atticus shakes his head, having battled with him as much if not more than I have over the years. “Go willingly, Father. Don’t make a scene and keep what dignity you have left.”

“You’d chose this commoner... this American, over your own father?”

“Yes,” Atticus and I both answer as I wrap my arm around Bellamy’s waist and step forward, shielding her from the man I no longer know.

“The choice has been made and celebrated and will go down in the history of my reign as the single best decision I made while I walked this Earth, you miserable fuck. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air that she breathes.”

Father’s grin is cold and cruel, and I’d like to knock it right off his face.

“I tolerated you for Mother’s sake,”—I take another step closer and lower my voice—“because even with her gone, I knew she’d want you involved.

She’d want you to have a place.” I think back to those last few words from my mother.

To the advice she gave me on her death bed.

“But unlike you, I protect those who matter to me. And you no longer matter. I’m not sure you ever did. ”

“You will regret this, son.”

“I expect to regret many things in my life but banishing you from court will not be one of them. Now I suggest you go willingly unless you’d like to be stripped of your titles, and home, and your royal stipend, too.”

His mouth opens and I shake my head in warning. “Don’t?—”

“Leave now, Father,” Atticus cuts in before I can threaten to kill the man who raised me. “Before you make this worse.”

Bellamy lifts her hand to my face as Father is escorted out of the ballroom and out of my life. “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

I clasp her wrist in mine and press a kiss to her open palm. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Every man has his breaking point. The one that forces his hand. And my father hurting you and our family is mine. Now dance with me, my queen.”