Page 24 of Shameless Royalty

“Sure, you’re not,” I say, grinning. “That’s why your cheeks are red as fuck right now.”

“They are not,” he snaps, but the way he drags a hand over his face like he’s trying to hide it says otherwise.

I laugh, crossing my arms. “Relax, Malachi. I’m just messin’ with you.”

“You’re always messin’ with me,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

“You’re fun to mess with,” I admit, shrugging. “Can’t help it. You’re like a puzzle.”

“A puzzle,” he repeats flatly.

“Aye,” I say, walking back and leaning against the desk again. “All these little pieces that don’t quite fit together. Like, how the hell does someone with a face like yours end up with a family like that?”

He stiffens, his gaze sharpening. “Don’t.”

The single word stops me in my tracks. I see it then—the flash of something raw, something close to anger but deeper. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it’s enough to remind me of the line I’m dancing on.

I hold up my hands. “Alright, alright. No family talk. Got it.”

He nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Grand.”

The silence stretches between us, heavier now. I sip my coffee, watching him as he picks at the edge of his sleeve, his eyes flicking toward the window.

“You know,” I say after a moment, my tone lighter. “If you want out of this room, all you’ve gotta do is ask.”

He glares at me, but there’s a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting a smile. “You’re full of shite, Cunningham.”

“And don’t you forget it,” I say, my grin widening as the blush creeps back into his cheeks.

He mutters something under his breath, grabbing his book and flopping back onto the bed. I let him have the last insult—for now.

Tomorrow, though? Tomorrow, I’ll see just how much more I can get away with.

Chapter 14

Connor

Thenextmorning,Idecided to turn things up a notch. If Malachi thought I was messing with him before, he’s in for a proper wake-up call today. I grab the breakfast tray and head down the hall toward his room.

But this time, I leave my shirt behind. Why? Because I’m a bastard, and because I’m pretty sure it’ll drive him completely fucking mad.

Unlocking the door, I push it open without knocking. Malachi’s sitting on the bed again, legs crossed, a book perched on his lap. He doesn’t look up right away, too absorbed in whatever he’s reading, but when I step inside, his eyes flick up—and immediately go wide.

“What in the fuck?” he blurts, snapping the book shut.

“Good morning to you, too,” I say, smirking as I saunter in, setting the tray down on the desk. “You’re lookin’ chipper.”

“Why the hell are you shirtless?” he demands, his voice pitching higher than usual. His eyes are glued to the floor, his cheeks flushing a shade of red I don’t think I’ve seen before.

I shrug, leaning back against the desk like I always do. “Why not? It’s my house. Pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Christ. Do you ever stop?”

“Not when I’m havin’ this much fun,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest—casually, of course, just enough to emphasize the movement. His eyes flick up for half a second before darting away, and I try my best not to laugh.

“You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he mutters, grabbing the book and holding it in front of his face like a shield.

“And you’re terrible at hidin’ when you’re flustered,” I shoot back. “Seriously, Malachi, you’re like a human thermometer with that blush.”

---