Striking (Red Lips & White Lies Book 7)

Raise your children to be so certain of their worth and their place in the world that even the loudest voices can’t rewrite their story.

—Bellamy’s Secret Thoughts

As the summer holiday hits the high season, our royal family has taken off for warmer pastures, or more accurately, sands. They were kind enough to send a press release, including a picture of our king, queen, and Princess Estella, as well as Prince Atticus, Princess Lennon, Maddox Beneventi, and their children, Brennan and Ophelia.

This marks the first time the Windsor family has been together since the funeral of their father at the beginning of the year.

“Don’t trust a vasectomy. That’s my advice,” Everly warns us as we sit on the warm white sand beach outside of the villa. My brother’s wives, my husband’s sister, my best friend and I are all enjoying the most delicious margaritas while we watch our husbands and a few nannies playing with our children on the beach and in the ocean. The babies are asleep inside, but there are enough toddlers to go around, so it’s all hands on deck. All but the wives—because last night, the guys lost a bet and are on their own today.

On their own with nannies, so I don’t feel bad for them.

What I do feel is tipsy.

And sentimental.

“You know, I remember the night Cross met you, Everly. He brought home cold food, and Ares and I bitched up a storm. We didn’t know the food got cold because you two got busy.”

Gracie snorts her margarita, and it spills out of her nose. “Oh my God, I didn’t know that.”

Everly blushes and sips her drink. “We may have christened the couch in Maddox’s office that night.”

“I’ve christened that couch a time or two.” Lennon smiles.

“Same,” Cait adds, and I snort as we all look at Gracie, who finishes her margarita quietly and pours another glass, then tops off mine and passes the pitcher down to Cait while we all wait to hear her answer.

“Fine . . . Ugh, you guys suck.” She looks out at the ocean where my brother tosses Molly high into the air before catching her and dipping her into a wave. “So maybe the triplets were conceived on that couch.”

“Am I seriously the only one who never had sex on that couch?” I ask, shocked. I knew Maddox’s office was a Kroydon Hills hot spot, but I didn’t know it was that hot.

Caitlin fills her glass and passes the pitcher to Lennon. “Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you didn’t have sex with Maverick in that office a few years ago?”

“What?” Lennon squeals. “You did not. Oh my lord, that man is sex on a stick.”

“Eww,” Caitlin groans. “You’re married to my brother.”

“And I’m not blind. I can look, just not touch. And I don’t need to touch because I’m married to your brother, smart-ass. I can barely handle him. I don’t need anyone else,” she laughs.

Evie fans herself. “He is hot.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you,” Grace adds.

“I never slept with Maverick. He pulled me into the office to tell me my date was a dick who’d been screwing one of the girls at the gym. He asked me if I wanted him to kick his ass.” Those days feel like a lifetime ago. My life in Kroydon Hills was everything I could have hoped it would be, but the best part of it is it led me to this. To Rhys.

“Rhys could have him beheaded,” Lennon giggles, and after a minute, we all laugh—hysterically. That’s probably enough margaritas for us, but we don’t stop.

Not our best move.

“Time to wake up, my love.” Rhys’s lips skim my shoulder as he pulls me back against his chest, but I refuse to open my eyes.

“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick,” I groan, but I still don’t move.

I don’t think I can.

“My head hurts,” I whine.

Rhys kisses the top of my head, and even that tiny movement feels like someone just smashed a hammer over my head.

“We warned you guys that shots were probably a bad idea last night, but none of you wanted to hear it.”

“Oh no . . . shots? Why did you let me do shots?” I whimper and roll over, burying my face in his chest while I breathe through the nausea.

The dick laughs at me, and if I could function right now, I’d consider kicking him in the balls.

“Oh, little bee. I know we’ve only been married for a year and a half, but I promise I know you well enough to know not to tell you what to do.”

I nod and regret the movement immediately.

“Want me to get you anything?”

“Advil and water and a time machine so I can go back and make better choices,” I whisper, attempting to avoid adding to the pain.

“Pretty sure you ladies added this week into your calendars yearly for the rest of our lives, according to Everly last night. Her exact words were Best week ever, bitches.”

“Oh God . . .”

“Gracie agreed and said next year she wants you to bring your crown.”

“Oh no . . .”

He kisses my head again. “Oh yes, love. So either you’d better learn to handle your liquor better or maybe leave the tequila in Mornea.”

I crack open my eyes and glare as much as possible. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, very much,” he laughs.

I roll over and the blanket slips down. “Why am I naked?”

“I guess you don’t remember demanding I fuck you either, love?”

“How was I not catatonic?” This just keeps getting worse.

“I believe your exact words were I’m your queen, and I command you to fuck me.” I don’t need to look at him to see his smile, it’s in every word.

“Drunk sex . . . ?”

“Very drunk sex. Kind of loud too. I think Atticus slept on a hammock outside after a while,” he laughs, and I die a little inside.

“Advil, Rhys. If you love me, you’ll get me Advil and act like none of this ever happened.”

“Yes, my queen.” He kisses my nose, and I pull the blanket back over my head.

Ten years later

Lennon taps her champagne glass filled with a mimosa to mine and looks out at the kids, who are spread out across the beach. Each one interested in their own things at this point. The days of little feet spraying sand everywhere as they run for the ocean are long gone. “So . . . how is she handling it?”

I look for my girl and find her lying next to Ophelia on a hammock with a book between them. Little Women. Estella is my quiet child. She’s contemplative, like her father. Constantly analyzing the world around her. She thinks before she speaks but has no problem speaking her mind. She’s a born queen.

And my heart hurts with that thought, just like it always does whenever I think it. Because for her to be queen, my husband will no longer be king, and kings do not retire.

We finally talked to Estella about her future before we left for this holiday. Rhys thought it would be good to give her time to reflect on the conversation while she was surrounded by her family in her happy place. It seems only fitting all three of our children would love it here, considering this is where their parents met.

“She’s okay. But . . .” I shake my head and look at Lennon, knowing she’ll understand. “One of the first things she asked was if her father would see her be crowned.”

“Oh God.” Lennon tears up immediately. “What did he say?”

“He told her he would. That he’d be there with her the same way your mother was with him.” I wipe my own eye and watch my girl flip a page in her book. “Then he told her the most important thing he’s learned as king is to keep your family close. Their duty is to serve their country, but their life is meant to serve their family.”

“He’s the strongest of all of us,” Lennon sighs.

“He is. Any chance you’ll keep an eye on the kids, so I can go find him?” I have a good idea where he’ll be, and when Lennon agrees, I head to the hammock on the other side of the beach. The one away from everyone else. It’s Rhys’s favorite place to come when he needs a quiet minute. And with twenty of us spread out throughout multiple villas on the island, quiet minutes are few and far between during the weeks we spend here each year.

“Hi,” I whisper as I stand, blocking the sun and forcing this man I love more than my own life to open his eyes. “Got room on there for one more?”

“That depends.” He shields his face from the sun so he can see me. “Did you bring that pink and white bee bikini like I asked?”

I drop my hand to my hip and shake my head. “I told you that doesn’t fit anymore.”

“And I told you I didn’t care.” He moves over and drops a foot to the sand, steadying the hammock so I can lie next to him without flipping us both over to our asses. “I will always love that on you.”

He lifts his arm so I can slide into my spot next to him and rest my face against his heart, the way I always do.

“I may have shoved it in a suitcase.” I press my lips to his and hear him hum contentedly.

“Where are the kids?” He pushes off the sand, and we sway in the warm wind.

“Estella and Ophelia are reading a book. Jake is teaching Frederic how to body surf with Ares . . .”

“And what about Katerina?”

“I think her little eight-year-old heart has its very first crush,” I tell him wistfully.

The hammock stops abruptly. “What the hell? She’s related to everyone on the island.”

“Technically, she’s not related to Joe . . .” I know he’s going to lose his mind in three . . . two . . . one . . .

“His mother is our sister-in-law, and your best friend.”

“Technically, she’s your sister’s sister-in-law, not ours. And Katerina is only eight. It’s a crush. Don’t worry about it.” But even as I say the words, I smile.

Stranger things have happened.

“Close your eyes, my king. Rest. We’re surrounded by our family. Everyone is safe and happy and healthy, and I’m in your arms. Everything is right in the world.”

His lips press against mine, and he closes his eyes. “Only you can do that, Bellamy.”

“Do what?” I ask softly as I relax in his arms and feel the warmth of the day begin to sit heavy on my eyes.

“Calm my soul.”

“I love you, Rhys.”

“Until my dying breath, little bee.”