Bellamy grips my hand, and I can feel her heart racing through her palm.
“Relax,” I whisper to her. “It’s only my mother. Not Jesus Christ.”
Bellamy grins, but the smile immediately dies from her lips when a woman draped in a bright red dress that seems to command attention sweeps into the room as if she owns it and the rest of the world is beneath her.
Sigh. My mother has arrived.
“Darling, you look simply wonderful,” she announces, strutting over to me with her large designer purse held tightly in her manicured hand. The scent of expensive perfume wafts through the room as she draws nearer. Her penetrating gaze settles on me, and ice seems to form in my veins.
“Mother.” I lean in and kiss both her cheeks. “It’s lovely to see you again,” I say, forcing a polite smile despite the tension squeezing my chest.
“Yes. It’s been too long.”
I grit my teeth and hold my tongue from saying something cutting or sarcastic, like,Then maybe you should have come to my wedding.
“Mother,” Rowan greets her the same as I did.
“Oh, Rowan. Don’t you look dashing as always? So much more relaxed than your brother. Perhaps he’s not as happy as he claims to be.”
Bellamy’s jaw clenches and I can practically see her silently calling my mother a bitch.
“Actually, this is the happiest I’ve ever been. May I present my wife, since you were unable to attend our wedding and meet her then? Mother, this is the new queen of Messalina, Queen Bellamy.”
Bellamy squeezes my hand, ready to eviscerate me for that last part. “Your Majesty,” Bellamy says in a strong voice. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
The corners of my mother’s lips turn up in a cold, practiced grin, her eyes never warming.
“Ah, Bellamy, my dear. You’re…” Her eyes scroll over every inch of Bellamy. “Adequate, I suppose, especially for an American,” she states, her voice dripping with disdain as she scrutinizes her appearance.
The heat of embarrassment rises to Bellamy’s cheeks, and instead of standing her ground, she refuses to let my mother see how much her words affect me.
“Thank you,” Bellamy replies, gritting her teeth behind her smile. “You look exactly as I pictured you. I’m glad you could make it to our palace.”
I fight my grin.
“Of course. My sons need me.” She glances around the room before returning her icy stare to Bellamy. “Though maybe I should have come sooner to help guide my eldest and the king of the country toward better decisions.”
“Mother,” I sharply interject, stepping forward and placing a protective arm around Bellamy. “That is not why you’re here nor is your opinion on my choices desired.”
“Fine,” she concedes, though she eyes Bellamy like a predator sizing up its prey. “For your sake, my dear son, I shall hold my tongue and my opinions.”
“Good, because if you don’t, you’ll be asked to leave. Bellamy is your new queen, and shewillbe treated with all the grace andrespect she deserves.” I let my threat hang in the air because mother or not, I’ll kick her ass right out of my palace if she disrespects my wife again. Not to mention her comfortable lifestyle is in my hands. One I can take away whenever I so choose.
Before my mother can so much as utter another sound, the door to the parlor springs open, and there is Bellamy’s father wearing only a bathrobe, looking about as lost as a man can be. My mother makes a choking noise in her throat, but I can’t help but smile in amusement, and Rowan is right there with me.
Bellamy’s father’s gaze shifts about the room, taking each of us in and finally landing on Bellamy. “Oh, Amy, I’m glad I found you!” he exclaims, and Bellamy’s breath instantly hitches. He hasn’t recognized her in weeks. “Can you point me in the direction of the shower? And why on earth is there a plastic bag on my arm I can’t remove?”
Bellamy’s glassy eyes peer up at me, and I lean in and give her a soft kiss. “Go. You don’t want to miss a second of that.”
She gives me a watery smile, excuses herself to my mother, and heads over to her father. “I can help you, Dad. But how on earth did you find yourself all the way over on this side of the palace? Where’s your helper?”
“My helper?” he parrots. “You mean that guy who tried to chase after me? Ha!” He laughs. “I got the better of him.”
Oh, hell. Now I outright laugh, and Bellamy shoots a reprimanding glare at me over her shoulder. My hands fly up in the air, but there’s no hiding the humor on her face as she turns back to him and shuts the door behind her.
“What on earth was that?”
“Bellamy’s father. He has dementia and isn’t well.”
