Striking (Red Lips & White Lies Book 7)

You have always been more than enough.

You just needed to find the right person to help you see it.

—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts

Wrapped in my husband’s arms has quickly become my second favorite way to wake up in the morning. Rhys’s lips on my body is definitely the first. This morning, I’m getting both.

The scrape of his teeth along my neck as he pulls me back against his bare chest is heavenly. One big hand slides down my stomach and inside my panties. “Fucking love waking up with you in my bed.”

“Oh God,” I moan as he teases my clit. “A girl could get used to this, Your Highness.”

“Your phone is ringing, little bee.”

“Who cares?” I moan as a blunt finger pushes inside my sex, and I block out everything that isn’t him.

“Shirt off, Bellamy,” he commands, and I immediately rip my shirt over my head, desperate to feel his skin against mine. “Fucking beautiful.”

My toes curl, and my body tightens.

Until . . .

“Your Royal Highness” throws a bucket of cold water over me, and Rhys’s bedroom door opens.

“Oh my God!” I scream and yank the blanket up to my chin as Rhys sits up casually, like this is an everyday occurrence. “What is happening?”

“There are certain members of the staff who have walk-in rights,” he groans as if he only just remembered that little fact.

“Umm . . . You didn’t think maybe you should have told me that?” I snap. “We might want to change that fact if you ever want me naked in this bed again.”

“Sorry, love.” He glares at Devon. “Get the fuck out.”

“Your Majesty.” Devon nods curtly. “I’m sorry, but⁠—”

My phone rings again, and Devon’s eyes grow wide as I reach for the nightstand. “Do not answer that, Your Highness.”

“What?” I whisper. Partially because I’m not used to being told what to do but also because he’s the first person to actually call me that casually.

“I’m afraid news of your marriage has been leaked.” Devon’s face stays stone cold as the color drains from mine. “The press is running with it . . . everywhere.”

“Leaked by who?” Rhys snarls as my phone continues to shriek next to us.

“We’re unsure at this time, sir.”

I silence my phone without looking at the screen. My only saving grace is if it’s barely sunrise here, it’s the middle of the night in Kroydon Hills.

“Find out how this was leaked if the only people who knew were the high council and my family.”

Devon nods, then lets himself out.

No sooner has the door closed than I’m off the bed, throwing my shirt back on. “I’ve got to call my family. They can’t find out this way.”

My mind races. Do I really want to wake my mother up in the middle of the night with this kind of news? Do I have much choice?

Rhys wraps a palm around the back of my head and pulls me against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

His voice is heartbreakingly hoarse, like the idea of dealing with this is one more nightmare to add to the growing list.

The phone in my hand rings again, and I make the mistake of looking at the screen.

Shit.

My stomach bottoms out.

“Ares is FaceTiming me . . .” I whisper and drop my head against his chest, soaking in the steady beat of his heart before forcing myself to step out of his grasp. “At least it’s not Cross. I don’t think I can handle his disappointment before I’ve even had my coffee.”

“Do you want me to stay with you, love?”

I want to say yes.

I want to let Rhys protect me from the fallout.

But I can’t. That’s not fair to him or to my brother.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m pretty sure threatening to kill a king is against some Mornea law, and I don’t feel like being the reason Ares goes to jail.” I lift up onto my toes and press a kiss to his jaw. “Go. I’m sure Devon is waiting for you.”

He throws a pair of sweats on, presses a kiss to my temple, and leaves me alone in the room with my ringing phone. Time to pull up those big girl panties. Shit.

With a shaking finger, I answer the call, prepared to see Ares.

It hadn’t occurred to me that he and Cross would be together . . . in a hotel room?

“Where are you guys?” I ask before they get the chance to say anything.

“We could ask you the same thing, but the reporter who asked about you being the new Queen of Mornea during the post-game conference already fed us the answer to that.”

Shit.

A muscle in his jaw tenses, and I cringe.

Disappointing Cross is its own hell.

When Dad was alive, he only ever had to look at me a certain way, and I’d do whatever it took to never see that look again. The idea of letting him down was too much to bear. Since Dad’s death, Cross has stepped into that role with an uncomfortable ease.

“We had a game in Seattle, B. Whatever news broke, broke right as the game was ending, and we got hit with questions as soon as they saw us.” Ares is telling me the same thing Cross did, but he doesn’t seem quite as pissed. At least not yet. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“Yes,” I offer weakly. “I wanted to talk to you. To both of you. But I’d hoped to talk to Mom first.”

“Maybe you should have done that two weeks ago then, B.” Anger is rolling off my oldest brother in heavy waves. “What the hell is going on? Did you seriously marry Lennon’s brother? The fucking king? Did he force you into this? I’ll fucking kill him.”

There’s my big brother.

The one who still thinks he can protect me from everything.

“We’ll fucking kill him,” Ares agrees, reminding Cross he’s not alone.

The Wilders against the world. Two of the best hockey players in the country. They’re enough to make grown men shake, and yet I don’t think my husband would be concerned in the least. Why is that kinda hot?

“You can’t kill a king,” I warn them as I roll my eyes like the petulant child they seem to think I am.

“Watch me, B.” Cross’s anger seems to be growing by the second, and I’m worried I’m about to lose any chance I have of controlling this narrative. If I can’t get them on my side, how am I supposed to win over a country?

It looks like now or never.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’m not sorry I married Rhys.” I watch my brothers closely. The two of them are most likely sitting at some desk in what I assume is a hotel in Seattle.

“I’m sorry . . . what?” Ares asks me, shocked. I guess that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “You’re really married to him? This isn’t some kind of mistake?”

I shake my head. “I was going to tell you the day after it happened, but then the king died . . . Everything happened so quickly after that, and we decided it was best for both of us to keep things quiet until after the funeral. And before you make some kind of crack about him hiding me, it was as much out of respect for me as it was for his grandfather. The country was in shock. Rhys’s grandfather was the longest-reigning monarch in the world. If we’d have shown up hand in hand, the eyes of the whole world would have been on us. The story would have revolved around us instead of the king.”

Even just the thought of that has my skin crawling.

“But I was here, and we were married.” I sit down on the bed and lean back against the headboard, needing the support. “I’m sorry you found out like this. You probably won’t believe me, but I was planning on telling you guys and Mom today.”

“Does Lennon know?” Ares asks, trying to piece it all together.

“I think Rhys called her last night,” I admit, wishing I had done the same. “And before you say anything, I did call Mom last night, but she didn’t answer, and I didn’t leave a message. This isn’t exactly the kind of thing you want to find out from a voicemail.”

“Or a reporter,” Cross counters, and I feel myself shrinking. “You don’t even know him, B. What were you thinking?”

The best lies are based in truth. At least I think that’s what I learned from one of my favorite murder podcasts. Here goes nothing. “I was thinking I wanted to marry him, Cross. I was thinking this is my life, and I have to live it. Not you or Ares or Mom. I was thinking about that teenager who didn’t know if she’d ever even live to get married and how she’d never believe she’d end up finding her own prince charming an ocean away and that he’d make her his queen.”

All true. I’m just choosing to leave out the truth about me never wanting a prince charming or a kingdom. I just wanted a man who would put me first and keep me safe and love me until the day I died, whether that was in my twenties or my eighties.

Cross absorbs what I’m saying, but Ares’s eyes narrow. “Is he good to you? Because king or not, if he doesn’t love you, he’s an idiot. You are everything that’s good in this world, little sister. You have a heart that’s so big and so pure, and you deserve to be happy.”

“Are you happy, Bellamy?” Cross adds on to Ares’s questions. “Because if you’re not, we’ll skip tomorrow’s game and fly to Mornea to take you home.”

Tears well in my eyes.

These men have been my rocks my whole life.

When I was stuck in the hospital for months at a time, they took turns staying with me when our parents couldn’t. They never left me alone. They held the buckets when I puked up my entire body weight after chemo treatments and lay in bed next to me, watching me breathe, willing it so when I wasn’t so sure I could.

My brothers are good men.

They’re the best.

And I’m about to lie to them.

“I love you both so much, and I’ve always appreciated how protective you are of me. But you’ve got to trust me this time. I know what I’m doing.”

Complete bullshit.

I don’t have a clue what I’m doing or if everything is going to blow up in my face like a Fourth of July fireworks show gone wrong.

“So it’s real then? You’re actually married to the king?” Shock settles on Cross’s handsome face. “You’re going to be the queen?”

My lip trembles, and I’m not sure if it’s fear or the overwhelming love I have for my brothers, but it’s right there under the surface. “I guess I am.”

Ares grins and leans back in his chair. “Gracie said she thought something was going on at the beach house, and I told her there was no way . . . Guess I was wrong.”

I hold my fingers up and squish them together to measure an inch. “Maybe just a little bit.”

“You were always destined to help people, B. Now you’ll have a bigger platform to make a bigger difference.” It’s the first positive thing Cross has said since I answered the phone, and there’s no way for me to hold back my tears.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand and sniff, then look up at the open doorway where my husband has been watching most of this conversation from the background.

Without voicing a word, he asks if he can join me, and I nod.

Rhys moves into the camera’s frame. “I’m sorry you weren’t there to see your sister get married. But I promise you, I will protect her with my life.”

“You fucking better.” Cross’s voice holds a threatening edge I haven’t heard before. “She’s better than you, Windsor. She’s better than all of us.”

“I love you guys.”

Has our King Taken an American Queen?

Rumors circling the house of Windsor say this, in fact, is true. King Rhys has married the American commoner, Bellamy Wilder. A nurse from Kroydon Hills, Pennsylvania, and a close friend of Her Royal Highness Princess Lennon and her new husband, as well. My sources say the late King Frederic passed before King Rhys was able to share the news.noveldrama

Now we will all be waiting on pins and needles to see if this marriage will last the test of time and the pressure of the crown.

Only time will tell.

Stay tuned, royal watchers.

Rhys

I ignore the text from my father, leaving him unread and skip down to the message from my sister.

I pocket my phone and skim over the newspaper headline for the tenth time, and my anger grows with each fucked up word. “How did this happen?”

“You know exactly how it happened, brother. All it took was one person to leak it to the tossers heading up one of the anti-monarchy groups. This is exactly the kind of salacious headline they’ve been looking for. Especially now, when they think the crown is in upheaval.” Atticus rips the paper out of my hands and throws it in the trash bin. “They gave you last week, whether it was the press’s way of showing respect or no one was able to dig any dirt up when the world was watching you mourn your king. But they’re coming after you with guns blazing now.”

“The only people who knew we were married before his death were in the high council room yesterday, so you want to tell me why I have this sinking feeling father’s fingerprints are all over this?” My relationship with him has been strained for years, but this would be a new low, even for him.

“He’s pissed, Rhys, but is he this stupid?”

I’m shocked my brother would even question that, but then I remember that he and Lennon haven’t had to deal with him in all the same ways that I have.

“Would you honestly put this past him? I could easily see him wanting some kind of retaliation for being relegated to a lower standing at Grandfather’s funeral. He’s furious I elevated you and Lennon with me but left him beneath us. And make no mistake brother, that is exactly how the world viewed it.” I wish I could bring myself to regret the move, but I can’t. Even now, I don’t want him in my inner circle.

Trust few and love even less.

My mother’s final words of wisdom are as loud today as they were back then.

“Fuck . . . What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Atticus looks around the otherwise empty room, like he’s looking for someone else to answer. “I hope you know we’re all fucked if I’m the voice of reason, Rhys.”

He sits down across from me and rests his elbows on his knees. Mother once told me to give Atticus room to surprise me, and I think he’s about to do it.

“Now we spin it. We show the world that you and our little bee⁠—”

“My fucking bee, not yours.”

Atticus’s hands go up in defense. “Sorry.” He clears his throat with a Mad Hatter-esq smile on his face. “We introduce the world to Bellamy. We show them a king and queen madly in love. We show them she’s good for you and for this country.”

“And how do you suggest we do that? You were there last night when I promised her no on camera sit-down.” I won’t destroy what little trust I’ve built with my wife.

“You’re the fucking king, Rhys. You married her. The king doesn’t owe any explanations to anyone but his queen. And she doesn’t need one because she was right there with you. Ignore any suspected involvement by our father and focus on you and your wife.”

“While that all sounds very pompous, brother, being the king means I have to keep the trust of the country.” I wake up my laptop and run my fingers over the keys. “Now let’s get them a written statement.”

From the desk of the King of Mornea: