Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle

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Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Page 93

by Penelope Bloom


  Thomas nods, then he glares at the other two priests until they nod as well. “It’s true. Yes.”

  The guard captain watches us through narrowed eyes, turning once more to his men. I hold my breath, knowing with a word, this man could still end us. They could open fire and blast us all from existence, claiming the ritual was never completed.

  But the captain falls to one knee, bowing his head. “We’re at your command, my liege.”

  The rest of the men fall to their knees as well, and I hold on to Roark so I don’t collapse from relief. His large hand rubs my back. “Can’t believe that worked,” he mutters.

  I bulge my eyes at him. “You didn’t think it would work?”

  He shrugs. “It was my best plan, but no. At least it was a plan that involved kissing you, though.”

  I grin. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “In bed,” he jokes.

  I roll my eyes. “Did becoming king turn you into an immature middle schooler?”

  “No. It made me realize I’ve never fucked a queen before. I’m impatient to give it a try.”

  I clear my throat, looking at the priests and the guards who all obviously heard what he just said and are trying to look anywhere but at us.

  16

  Roark

  I sit in the throne that was my father’s, and his father’s before him. Though I know the man who claims this throne is one of the most powerful men in the world, I’m more interested in the woman who sits in the smaller throne beside me. My queen.

  I reach across to her armrest and grab her hand, squeezing slightly. She smiles up at me. “So,” she says. “It’s our first morning as king and queen. Breakfast was good, but is this what we do? We just kind of sit here in this big room while the guards stand with their backs to us?”

  I smirk. “We have a great responsibility. In the next few days, dignitaries from all the major global political powers will be checking in with us and trying to win favor. We’ll be expected to begin participating on the global stage as well--the shadow stage, that is.”

  “Sounds important, but boring,” says Elizabeth with a smile.

  “I agree. But it’s just a small part of our daily life. A decision here, a decision there. I’ll make sure of it, because I still have a head full of ideas about the things I want to do to you, and where I want to do them. I’ll also need to show you off in every city of the Shrouded Kingdoms as well. It will be very time consuming, very sex-filled work.”

  Elizabeth laughs. Her cheeks stain red as she glances to the guards within earshot. Her expression hardens suddenly. “What’s the news on Titus and Korinthia?”

  I grip the armrests of my chair more tightly now. After we won the guards back yesterday, taking control of the palace was a quick job. Once we had control, I threw my brother and my mother into the dungeons. They were conscious by then, and pleading for forgiveness, promising if I would just spare their lives they would change.

  Some make the mistake of thinking mercy is a weakness, but I know better. Executing Titus and my mother would be as easy as breathing. Easier, even. When I killed those guards on my way to rescuing Elizabeth, it was the first time I can remember that violence didn’t stir the darkness within me. I felt repulsed by it--completely conscious of the waste of life and the hubris required to think I had a right to take it. But I took those lives all the same because something was on the line more important than my own morality.

  Now though? Titus and my mother are crippled politically. They have been stripped of their titles and estates. Even if I do free them, they’ll live shame filled lives as lesser nobles with no hope of ever moving up the social ladder. Honestly, death may even be kinder than that fate.

  The more I think about it, the more I realize their fate shouldn’t be my decision alone. Maybe I had to tolerate their bullshit for so many years, but the way they wronged Elizabeth surpasses anything they ever did to me.

  “I want you to decide their fate,” I say after a long pause.

  Elizabeth looks down, picking at the hem of her dress. “If I say they should die, I’ll carry the guilt with me for the rest of my life, whether I should or not. And they aren’t even worth a guilty conscience. Let them live. You said their life would be miserable now, anyway, didn’t you?”

  “It would,” I say.

  She nods. “Then let them out. Maybe they’ll learn some humility.”

  “So be it,” I say. “Kato, send the message to the dungeons. Titus and Korinthia are to be given enough food and water to last them through the day and transportation out of the palace.”

  Kato turns, nodding toward me. “As you command, my liege.”

  Only a few minutes after Kato has left, a sweaty guard with wide, panic-filled eyes stumbles into the throne room, panting. “My liege,” he gasps. “I came right away. Titus and Korinthia tried to bribe me. They say they have a fortune hidden. That it will go to whoever assassinates the king and queen. They tried to get me to do it.”

  I stand from my throne, filled with a righteous rage that has my hairs standing on end. “You did well soldier. You’ll be rewarded, but we’re going to deal with this first. Elizabeth, come.”

  When we reach the dungeons, I find Kato opening the cell for Titus and Korinthia. I let him lead them out, enjoying the way their eyes widen when they see Elizabeth and I.

  “Wondering why we’re not assassinated yet?” I ask.

  They exchange a worried glance. It’s almost hard to see them like this. While they both had inflated ideas of their own worth before, they now look like wet rats who would chew off their own tails to escape a trap. It seems for them, the man and woman did not exist independent of titles.

  “I don’t know what you heard, my son,” says Korinthia, putting her hands up defensively. “But we would never plan such a thing.”

  Titus licks his lips as quick as a serpent. “But if we did, you would want to be careful how you treat us,” he says.

  Korinthia’s head snaps toward him. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, urging Titus to stop talking.

  “You’d have to worry that plans were already in effect that could catch up with you if we died,” continues Titus. “If we were planning something like that, keeping us alive would be your only hope of safety.”

  “I was looking forward to starting fresh as king,” I say. “Leave the violence in my past and focus on loving my beautiful queen. But I’m going to make an exception for the two of you. Kato, take them to the town center. It has been too long since we’ve had a public execution. Let’s show the city what happens to traitors.”

  “No!” shouts Titus. “You can’t do this to us!”

  “Roark, think about this,” pleads my mother.

  “About what?” I ask. “The fact that you both planned to have me assassinated twice now? Or that you just made it painfully clear I can’t let you live without fearing that you’ll try to hurt my queen? No. You’re both all out of chances. I take no joy in it ending this way, but it will end.”

  I look to Elizabeth, who gives me a quick nod in return, even though her face looks pale.

  “Take them, Kato. We’ll be there shortly.”

  Epilogue

  Elizabeth

  It has been a month since Korinthia and Titus were executed in front of the entire city. I thought I wouldn’t be able to look, but I did. I watched as they hanged because being queen isn’t just about doing what’s easy or what makes me feel good--I’ve learned that from Roark. I’ll carry the weight of their deaths for as long as I live, but Roark has taught me to bear the weight with dignity, to hold it deep inside and use it as fuel when I’m presented with difficult moments.

  I haven’t returned to see my foster parents since Roark took me the night everything went to hell, and I don’t know if I ever will. A small part of me still longs for the love and affection that I never received from them as a child, but I know it won’t happen. They took me in for a paycheck, not because hey wanted a child to love. They treated
me like dirt because they hated that I was destined for more. Jealousy turned any positivity they could have had toward me to poison.

  I’d like to think if they knew what Titus had planned for me they wouldn’t have been so happy to get rid of me, or maybe they would have even treated me better… But I doubt it. Frankly, the more I think of it, the more I realize I can live without trying to fix that part of my life. Moving on gets easier every day. The palace is my home now, and Roark, my king, is my family.

  I’m sitting in one of the circular dressing rooms on the ground floor of the palace. Huge bay windows surround me, letting in startling views of the crisp blue winter skies and flurries of snow that buffet the frozen trees outside. The palace decorators have already made a winter paradise in the interior of every room, picking out color schemes that scream winter bliss and cozy comfort. I bite my lip, watching in the mirror as Marcella, Kadene, and Niera circle me and work on my dress, hair, and makeup.

  “I’m so excited,” says Marcella, who hasn’t stopped smiling since she showed up to get started this morning. “A royal wedding,” she says wistfully. “The entirety of the Shrouded Kingdom is talking about it. There will be cameras everywhere.”

  “I heard Mikah will be there,” says Kadene, who looks meaningfully at Niera.

  Niera studies the floor, speaking in a forced tone of disinterest. “Really? I hadn’t heard that,” she says.

  Marcella winks at me. “You look particularly lovely, by the way, Niera. Is that a new dress?”

  Niera looks down at the bright pink dress she wears, which definitely seems to be brand new. “This? What? No. I’ve had this for ages.”

  “You look wonderful,” I say to Niera, who smiles back and blushes. “How long do we have until the ceremony?”

  “Stop worrying, my queen!” says Marcella

  “I thought I told you to call me Elizabeth,” I say, almost laughing at the look my three personal assistants--servant was a title I quickly disposed of, even if it was only in my head for now--give anytime I request they address me without all the formality.

  “Elizabeth,” she says, looking green as she does, “This is your day. We want you to enjoy every second of it.”

  I look at myself in the mirror and think about how unbelievable this all is. Less than two months ago, I was still living with the people I thought were my parents. I was spending my days wishing I could be anyone else, anywhere else. And now? It wasn’t easy, but I look at the woman in the mirror and can’t help but smile. My platinum hair is curled into delicate ringlets that fall around my shoulders, bouncing with the slightest movement of my head. My makeup is subtly applied to emphasize all my natural features in a way I could never pull off on my own, and my dress is more perfect than I imagined it would be.

  It’s a pure white lace over a layer of silk that feels like heaven against my skin. The neckline is more modest than traditional city clothes, but a bold explosion of fabric at my shoulders marks it clearly in the style here, which I’ve already grown used to. Aside from the flared shoulders, the rest of the dress isn’t far from what I grew up looking at women wearing to their weddings. The biggest difference between the woman in the mirror and the one I thought I’d see if my wedding day ever came is the silver crown on my head.

  Queen Elizabeth Burkewood. If I wasn’t seeing it all with my own eyes, I still wouldn’t believe that it is real.

  Roark

  I wait at the altar with the traditional frozen lotus flower in my hand. I wear a black suit with a high collar and a white undershirt. The wedding ceremony is being held in the palace courtyard, which workers have spent the last month tirelessly converting into a scene straight out of a fantasy--Elizabeth’s fantasy. Cherry blossom trees were imported from Japan to line the pathway from the main green to the footbridge, where their pinkish white petals drift lazily down into the chilly stream I had dug into the grounds. The altar sits on an island surrounded by the water and the cherry blossom trees.

  On the other side of the bridge, Elizabeth’s personal team of servants sit at the front--which was her request. All three of the women look as proud as if they were her sisters. Calian sits beside them, and favors me with a wink when he sees me notice him. Kato stands ceremonial guard at the footbridge, along with the guard who brought me news of my brother and mother’s betrayal and has since been promoted to a Captain of the Guard alongside Kato. The rest of the hundreds of seats are filled with the upper crust of society from the greater nobles all the way down to the lesser nobles, but at Elizabeth’s request, the common people were allowed to enter into the palace and watch from the windows facing the courtyard, and as I look around I see thousands and thousands of smiling faces beaming down from open windows--men and women holding each other close, fathers holding their children so that they can see this momentous occasion. It’s humbling to see how many support my union to Elizabeth.

  But it all disappears from my notice when Elizabeth emerges from the dressing room at the far end of the courtyard. I did a little reading on traditional weddings outside the Shrouded Kingdoms and know her father is supposed to “give her away” in her culture, but in ours, there is no such tradition. I’m glad of it too. After what Elizabeth has been through in the short time I’ve known her and the years prior, I know no one has a right to give her away. The woman I’m watching walk toward me is a queen now, in every sense of the word, and she’s the only one with the right to decide her own fate.

  The crowd ignites with whispers and hushed conversation as everyone turns toward her to watch her approach the altar. Jealousy is written plainly on every face. The women wish they could look like her and the men wish they were the ones standing where I am. I smile with pride and excitement. We’ve technically been married for a month now, but I think we both felt like the marriage was incomplete--not until we had a traditional wedding. And now it’s happening.

  She takes her place across from me on the altar. My mind flashes an image of her from the night I rescued her from Titus and the way she looked standing across from me at a similar altar. She was going on no sleep, her dress was torn and dotted with other’s blood. Now she’s a picture of perfection, so beautiful she practically glows, I can’t help smiling because I know I would have her either way--battered and worn or beautifully put together. Elizabeth is my queen My wife. My love. And nothing will ever change that.

  Elizabeth

  Roark closes the door behind us. I look around the playroom at his estate outside the palace, which has become a place full of memories in the last month--the kind of memories that make me feel as if I need to change my panties.. Now I’m standing in this place of lust in my pure white wedding dress, looking at my king, who is absolutely stunning in a black suit with a high collar embroidered with his family crest.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t save myself for the wedding night,” I say with a smirk.

  Roark grins. “On the contrary, you did save something for me.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “You still haven’t let me enjoy that perfect ass of yours. Not the way I want to.”

  He steps closer, eyes dark with intent. The idea of anal makes my stomach flip over and my skin tingle. I shake my head reflexively. I may have pushed past insecurities I never thought I would since meeting Roark, but the idea of that… It’s not that I don’t want to try, I just can’t help thinking of all the ways it could go horribly, embarrassingly wrong. “I can’t,” I say.

  He moves closer still, chest pressing into me until I’m forced to back up with every step he takes. “Can’t, or won’t?” he asks.

  “Can’t,” I say.

  “You would deny your king?” he asks with a crooked smile.

  “I wouldn’t… I just--” I back into the wall and he presses into me, filling me with the scent of his skin--fresh and crisp like cold morning air on mountaintops. I close my eyes. “It’s too embarrassing.”

  He finds my eyes with his. “Elizabeth. My queen. Tell me one thing. Do you remember
the safe word?”

  A thrill runs through me. I know he’s about to push my boundaries when he asks me this, even though I’ve never had to use the safe word with him. He always anticipates my desires and balances that with my limitations that he just instinctively knows. “Yes,” I say.

  The look on his face is feral. “Then I’ll make this very clear. I’m going to fuck your ass, and if you don’t like it, you can try to run.”

  I stand motionless for a second, letting his words sink in. Instinct kicks in and I turn toward the door, yanking hard on the handle, it’s barely open an inch before it’s slammed shut by Roark’s hand. He reaches to grab me and I spin away from his grasp, running deeper into the room even though I know there’s no other way out. He’s trying to get me and I’m trying to get away--there’s nothing more. Adrenaline floods through me and the only sound I hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  He catches me just by the bed in the center of the dungeon-like room, gripping me by the shoulders and throwing me roughly down to the mattress. I roll to my back and start to get up, but he crashes down on top of me, pinning my arms to the bed with hands that might as well be steel.

  I squirm and struggle against him, kicking my feet. “Let me go!” I shout.

  “Not until I fuck that tight little ass of yours, my queen,” he says.

  His words send a dirty rush of excitement through me that starts at my chest and lingers between my legs, flooding my pussy with heat. “Please,” I gasp, “Let me go.” Red. All I have to say is a single word and he will let me go, but I know I’m not going to say it. Resisting him is turning me on like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and judging by the satisfied look on his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

 

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