Page 21 of Shameless Royalty

“What the hell is this?” I sit up, staring at the boxes like they might explode.

“What does it look like?” Connor says, setting his box down on the desk. “Books. Told you I’d get you some.”

Some?This looks like half a bloody library. I get off the bed, stepping closer, my gaze flicking between the boxes and Connor. “You bought all of these?”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk like it’s no big deal. “You said you were goin’ insane. Figured this might help.”

I blink, utterly stunned. “Connor, this is… I don’t even know what to say.”

“‘Thank you, Connor,’would be a good start.”

I scowl, trying to hide how floored I am. “Don’t push your luck.”

His smirk widens, and he nods toward the boxes. “Go on, then. Dig in. Just add them to the shelves and put the ones you don’t want back in the boxes.”

I kneel beside one of the boxes, lifting the lid like it might bite me. Inside are stacks of books—brand new fucking hardbacks. HARDBACKS! I run my fingers over the titles, scanning the selection. It’s… impressive, actually. Fiction, non-fiction, classics, thrillers, and even some sci-fi.

“You weren’t jokin’,” I mutter, glancing up at him. “You really bought all of these.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he says, his tone casual. “So I guessed and bought the ones that looked interestin’.”

“You… Youguessed?” I say, still trying to wrap my head around it. “How the fuck did you even get these so fast?”

“Magic,” he deadpans, then he grins at my glare. “Fine. We’ve got connections. It’s not like I went to a bloody bookstore myself.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, pulling out another book. “You really went all out.”

Connor grins as he watches me rummage through the box. “Well, you were whinin’ like a kid who lost his favorite toy. Figured it was this or deal with you throwin’ a tantrum.”

I glare at him, clutching a book in my hand and pointing it at him as I speak. “I donotthrow tantrums.”

He arches a brow, clearly amused as he walks over and crouches down opposite me with his elbow propped up on one knee. “You’re a fuckin’ brat, of course you throw tantrums.”

I feel my face flush and get a whiff of his cologne, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I focus on the boxes and pulling out more books.

“Alright,” I say, sorting through a pile I’ve made. “You’ve clearly got opinions. What’s your favorite book?”

Connor tilts his head, pretending to think for a moment. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” he says finally. “Fuckin’ brilliant, that one.”

I freeze, the book in my hands forgotten. “You’re joking.”

His brows knit together. “Why the hell would I joke about that?”

“It’smyfavorite,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Connor’s grin widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that immediately puts me on edge. “No shit? Malachi Dawson has taste. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Don’t make it weird,” I mutter, shoving a book back into the box.

“It’s already weird. We have somethin’ in common other than the fact we both come from Irish Syndicates,” he says, chuckling. “So, tell me, Babyface, what’s your favorite part?”

I glare at him while my face heats. “I’m not playing twenty bloody questions with you.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make it infuriatingly teasing. “Don’t be shy. I’m just tryin’ to get to know you better.”

I roll my eyes, hating the way my pulse jumps at the way he says it. “You already know more than you should.”

“Do I?” He leans forward with a sly look in his eyes. “What else are you hidin’, Malachi?”

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