Page 43 of His Queen

Guilt washes over me as I watch her struggle to keep herself composed. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before—the pain and disappointment that hides beneath the layers of her beautiful exterior. By loving me, she’s been forced to give up so much, and being a part of this family taught her only one thing. To grin and bear it.

“Mira, I’m only going to say this one more time,” I start, trying to reach for her again, but she jerks out of reach. “I fixed everything just like I promised. The fact that the wrong flowers got delivered is not because of me, so I refuse to stand here and let you accuse me of something I’m not guilty of.” It’s only at the end of my sentence that I realize the stern tenor that suddenly erupted from my words.

“And I refuse to stand here and listen to my husband lie to me.” Mira’s gaze resolutely avoids mine as she opens the door, and I watch her retreat, feeling her anger like a fire that I can’t seem to put out. It’s like a dive into icy water, realizing my wife doesn’t trust me, that she thinks I wouldn’t keep my promise.

As the door closes behind her with a loud click, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, letting my eyes drift shut. My mind starts racing—a million thoughts rushing through as if competing to be heard first. I have no idea what the fuck just happened, whether the devil just pissed all over my day or if he took a dump on my entire goddamn week. Who knows how long Mira is going to look at me like I’m the spawn of Satan.

I pull out my phone, speed-dialing Maximo.

“Nicoli,” he answers.

“You said you had the Carrington-Winslow wedding sorted.”

“And by sorted, you mean…?”

“You know what I mean. You had everything fixed?”

“Yeah. For sure.”

“The flowers, too?”

“Yes. Why? Do we have a problem?”

“Apparently, the wrong flowers got delivered this morning.”

“Mira, where are you going?” Maximo shouts in the background. “Get your ass back here.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, shutting my eyes. “What is my wife doing now?”

“Let me deal with her.”

“Maximo, she can’t—”

He hangs up.

“—leave,” I say, staring at my phone, unblinking. I already know what she’s doing, or rather…what she’s about to do. She’s about to go to that wedding.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

MIRABELLA

“Mirabella,where do you think you’re going?”

“Not now, Maximo.” My heels click across the gravel as I stomp down the driveway. “I have a wedding to save.”

“You know you’re not allowed to leave the estate.”

I pivot to face him. “Do not give me that shit. We’ve been cooped up in this house for the last two weeks.”

“You know—”

I lift my hand and shush him. “Before you give me that bullshit about it being for our protection, I really don’t care. All I care about right now is saving what’s left to be saved, a wedding that’s about to crash and burn because Nicoli couldn’t keep his goddamn promise. So, stop me, Maximo. I fucking dare you.”

Maximo stands rooted to the spot, his eyes darting around nervously as he contemplates what to do next.

I cross my arms, glaring at him. “What’s it going to be? Are you going to piss off Nicoli by letting me go, or are you going to try to stop me? Which, by the way, will only be a fruitless endeavor on your part because I’m leaving. I don’t care if I have to call the National Guard to fucking airlift me out of here.”

“Mirabella, relax.”

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