Page 114 of Shameless Royalty

Giovanni’s fingers tighten around his drink, setting it down sharply on the table beside him with a faint thud. “What about him?” he asks, his tone cautious, every trace of humor erased.

I drag in a deep breath, scrubbing a hand roughly over my jaw as I fight back the nerves twisting uncomfortably inside me. The next words feel heavy on my tongue, like a confession I’ve been choking down for far too long. “I’m in love with him.”

This time, the silence feels suffocating, thick with tension. No one moves at first, as if the words themselves have pinned each of them to their seats.

Nikolai recovers first, a low, shocked curse slipping past his lips as he tips his head back slightly, running a hand roughly through his hair. “Shit, I’m not even gonna ask how that happened.”

Konstantin studies me intently, unblinking, the steady scrutiny of his gaze sharp enough to flay me open, like he’s silently calculating if I’ve completely lost my fucking mind or if he simply underestimated how reckless I could be.

Giovanni leans forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees and his expression darkening into concern. “You’re serious?”

I meet his questioning stare evenly, jaw set tight, shoulders squared. There’s no hesitation now, just quiet certainty. “Aye.”

He lets out a heavy breath, dragging a hand roughly down his face in disbelief. “Fuck, Connor,” he mutters, clearly trying to wrap his head around my admission.

Nikolai shakes his head and sits back with a heavy sigh, his gaze wary but understanding. “The enemy’s son.”

Konstantin, who has barely moved or blinked, finally breaks his contemplative silence, voice quiet and serious, fingers clasped thoughtfully in front of him. “You know what this means.”

I hold his gaze, resolute and unwavering, even though my heart is still hammering painfully beneath my ribs. “I know exactly what it means.”

Giovanni rubs his temple, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to ease a sudden headache. He seems torn between concern and acceptance, his expression drawn into a slight frown. “So what now?”

The tension bleeds from my shoulders as certainty replaces uncertainty. My answer comes without pause, clear and firm. “I keep him.”

Simple. Direct. Final. No room for debate.

Across from me, Mihai’s lips twitch into an approving smirk, shaking his head slightly as he stubs out his cigarette into the ashtray. “Guess we should’ve known. Connor Cunningham doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A slow grin stretches across Nikolai’s face, reluctant respect in his eyes as he lifts his whiskey glass in salute, nodding at me in amused resignation. “To you being a reckless bastard.”

Giovanni’s expression finally breaks into a grudging smile as he clinks his own glass against Nikolai’s, shaking his head slightly. “And to Malachi. Poor fucker doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

Even Konstantin eventually allows a quiet smile to soften his otherwise serious expression. He meets my eyes steadily, something like genuine admiration hidden beneath his calm mask. “To not giving a fuck about what’s expected of us.”

I grin, lifting my own glass. “Now that’s a fuckin’ toast.”

Chapter 46

Malachi

Istareatthewall, curled up on the bed, my arms tucked tight against my chest. It’s late—past midnight, probably—but I haven’t been sleeping much these past few days anyway.

It’s been three days since I last saw Connor. Three days of silence, of watching cars come and go from the estate, of seeing glimpses of him through the window, talking to men I don’t recognize. Three days of wondering who the fuck Sofia is and why he left so suddenly when she showed up.

Three days of nothing.

I should be used to it by now. He’s always had the power to pull me in, to make me feel like I matter, only to disappear and remind me exactly where I stand. It’s a cycle. One I swore I wouldn’t fall into.

But here I am.

The door opens softly, the hinges barely making a sound, but I don’t move. I don’t even look up. I know it’s him before he says aword, before I hear the quiet exhale of breath, the shuffle of his boots against the floor.

I can feel his hesitation before the mattress dips as he sits beside me. But I keep my eyes on the wall, my heart hammering despite the numbness settling heavily in my chest.

“Babyface,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, rough like he’s been running on fumes.

I don’t answer.

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