A/N: A couple of years ago I wrote a series of Max/Mariam kisses for Valentine's, and I wanted to do something like that again. I decided on several separate oneshots, centered on different ships, for Valentine's Day and the days after. There will be six in total, each based off of a different kiss cliché or trope.

This is the third one I'm uploading, and it's a follow-up to Chapter 2 of Just A Moment. I let myself be self-indulgent since I know Enrique/Queen is not a ship anybody but me is probably invested in. I did get one sweet review on their chapter in Just A Moment that I'll treasure always, because my honest expectation for feedback with these two is pretty much nothing.

Anyway, this installment is rated M, due to adult themes and some language. There's nothing explicit, but better safe than sorry.

A Kiss with Red Lipstick

"What are you doing here?"

Queen raised her eyebrows at the audacity of that question, then let her eyes trail down over the way Enrique's dress shirt hugged muscles his personal trainer put more effort into than he did. Even when he was an asshole, he was nice to look at.

"That's a rude question to ask your date," she answered, crossing her arms. She was cold. That's what she got for wearing a slinky little backless dress and leaving her fur stole inside. The jacket Enrique should be offering her was tossed carelessly over a shrub. He made no moves to pick it up.

Any reply Enrique had been thinking of making was drowned out by a long-suffering sigh.

"I'll ask that you take your interpersonal drama somewhere private, Enrique." Robert was surveying a chessboard in front of him and didn't bother to look up.

Johnny, however, wasn't shy about shooting a look of disdain their way.

"Yeah, tell Princess to go back inside with all the other girls you've fucked," he snarled. "We're trying to concentrate."

Queen bristled. She didn't have the damn patience for this.

"Losing that bad?" she asked in a condescending tone she knew would grind his gears. Out of all of Enrique's friends, Johnny was easiest to get a rise out of. Maybe it was because he had fewer millions to his name than the rest of them.

It was funny all the things you could learn hanging off of a rich boy's arm, important enough to be in the room and invisible enough to be mostly ignored.

"Enrique, tell her to shut up and go away." Johnny requested and glared at her.

"Checkmate."

"What?!"

Queen didn't get to witness the hissy fit that was sure to follow, because Enrique steered her away toward an ivy-covered window. It was dark inside. They were on the patio off of Enrique's personal study. She and Enrique had had sex three times on the desk – that was three times more than she'd seen him even glance at a book. Most guests would know better than to bother looking for him here.

"What's up?" Enrique's hand left her shoulder to rub the back of his neck. He was trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably. "Is everything, uh… okay?"

Sparkling water didn't take the edge off of these parties like champagne did. Normally when she and Enrique got separated at one of his family's little soirees, Queen would swan around making small talk and trying to look richer than she was.

Tonight, the crowd felt claustrophobic. Without Enrique's presence to anchor her or alcohol to make being adrift more fun, she felt small and insignificant in the sea of people. Before she'd come to find him, she'd stumbled to his private rooms to be sick without an audience. Her stole was still there – she'd been too preoccupied with brushing her teeth and reapplying her makeup to worry about getting cold.

Queen scoffed.

"What do you think?"

Something in her tone ruffled Enrique. Blue eyes that had been avoiding hers all evening suddenly locked on.

"Look, don't get pissy with me. This isn't my fault."

Queen took a step closer so her next words wouldn't reach Robert and Johnny. A brief panic flitted through Enrique's eyes, like he was scared of her or what she might say. It made her feel better than she had all evening.

"I thought the whole point of the paternity test was to prove that it is your fault," she hissed, jabbing him in the chest with one manicured finger.

Enrique grabbed her hand and shushed her, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where his friends had reset for another chess game.

Queen continued, unperturbed, "Not that you're the one who should've been worried in the first place, considering you were in bed with someone else when I came to tell you."

"Don't act like I betrayed your trust," he argued. "You knew I was seeing other people. I'm not responsible for whatever fantasy you made up in your head. And I told you I'd help you get it taken care of." His handsome face lost some of its color when he glanced briefly at her stomach, despite the fact that it didn't look any different yet. "Whatever you do now is your problem."

He was wrong. If she agreed to get rid of it, then it was her problem. He'd dump her faster than you could say Givenchy. She'd be on the street or crawling back to her brother. The most she'd be able to hope for would be some hush money if she put up enough of a stink.

But if she had his baby, it would be his problem or it would be all over the tabloids that he'd knocked her up and left her and the illegitimate heir to his family's fortune to rot. He'd lawyer up and clean up his mess, sure, but there would always be a lasting stain on his reputation.

"Is it?" She felt her eyebrow twitch.

Before he could answer, they were interrupted.

"I was wondering who ruined the mood," Oliver drawled, inviting himself into their circle. Enrique stepped out with one foot, angling his body so he could face both of them. Queen scowled. "You know, I wouldn't call this the time or place to talk about your little predicament."

"Where were you hiding?" Queen asked bitterly, not even caring that Oliver fed off of her distaste for him like a vampire.

"It was my turn to go for drinks. Sorry I didn't bring you one, but I didn't think you were drinking tonight." He didn't sound sorry at all and he knew that she wasn't drinking just as well as he knew why.

"I thought you had servants to do that for you."

"When we spend time together as a team, we don't need anybody superfluous intruding." The look he gave Queen made it quite clear that he wasn't talking about the help. "We've known each other longer than we've known anyone else here. Most people don't embarrass themselves trying to butt in."

Queen wanted to punch him.

"Come on, Enrique," Oliver ordered smugly, grabbing his friend around the wrist, "your drink's getting warm. You can deal with your little indiscretion another time."

Queen really wanted to punch him. She hadn't worked so hard to climb the ranks to be belittled and swept aside like all of Enrique's other playthings. She grabbed his other wrist.

Enrique opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give a shit what he had to say right now. Before he could get more than a syllable out, she kissed him hard, all tongue and teeth and sick satisfaction that she could feel Oliver's glare burning a hole in the back of her head.

She snagged a handful of Enrique's golden curls and yanked his head back, but only far enough so that she could kiss her way across his cheek and down his neck. He groaned and she sank her teeth into his skin in response; his answering curse and Oliver's exclamation of disgust were music to her ears.

"Fucking hell, enough already!"

She stepped back, a twisted kind of rage thundering through her, making her whole body feel like it was throbbing with each heartbeat. If she wasn't so proud, she probably would have puked.

"Enrique, really," Robert scolded, watching from afar like a bird of prey. Johnny, who'd been far less professional with his words, was staring at the scene with his mouth agape. "Save it for your bedroom."

Enrique was stuttering and stumbling through a response. He had bright red lipstick smeared all over his face and his neck and Queen was suddenly glad that she'd been forced to reapply it before coming to find him. Let Oliver and his friends and everybody else see who he belonged to. She wasn't going to be cast aside like all the other girls.

Oliver was staring icily at her. The other two could sense something they didn't know about had happened. She could feel all of them watching as she leaned in and wiped her mouth clean on the stiff, white collar of Enrique's shirt.

When she stepped back, she surveyed her handiwork. Even if he cleaned off his face, he'd have to wear her lipstick on his shirt, right through the middle of the party and all his guests, if he wanted to get to his room to change.

"Enjoy your drinks." She brushed past Oliver, who had a satisfying, angry flush creeping up over his face, and stormed off into the house.

In a few months, no one would be able to deny what she was to Enrique. She wasn't letting go of the life she'd made for herself that easily.

A/N: I enjoy writing this dramatic (and toxic) dynamic sometimes. I think Enrique and Queen make sense as a couple in the way that they're two characters I could see being into each other for completely shallow reasons. It probably should never go further than a fling, and maybe wouldn't if my narrative didn't back them into a corner this time. Whoops.

To anyone who happens to read this, thanks so much! And if you happened to enjoy it at all, I'm glad! :)