Page 30 of Shameless Royalty

But even as I tell myself that, I know it’s a lie. Because no matter how much I fight it, Connor Cunningham is already in my head.

Chapter 17

Connor

Fortwoweeks,Itried to forget about Malachi Dawson.

I told myself it would be easy—he’s just a bratty, sharp-tongued captive who happens to blush like a saint whenever I get too close. It doesn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything.

So, I did what I always do when I need to clear my head: I drowned myself in indulgence.

The submissives were more than willing. They always are. I had my pick of obedient, eager men ready to bend to my every whim. For days, I lost myself in them, in the heat and the chaos of control.

I pushed harder than usual, demanding more, trying to erase the memory of those blue eyes that kept creeping into my thoughts.

But no matter how deep I sank, it wasn’t the same.

Even when I was lost in the moment, gripping someone’s hips or controlling their breath, all I could fucking see was him.Malachi. His sharp tongue, his fiery temper, and those goddamn blue eyes that burn holes in me every time he looks my way.

It pissed me off more than anything.

The worst part? Malachi isn’t a submissive. He isn’t even remotely in this world. He’s a stubborn, defiant little shit who fights me at every turn—and yet, here I am, completely fucked up over him.

By the end of the first week, I gave up trying to distract myself. Then I spent the next seven days avoiding him entirely and hoping the space would help. It hasn’t. If anything, it’s made it worse. The silence feels heavier now, like it’s pressing down on me, demanding I do something.

So, tonight, I give in.

With that thought, I grab a tray of dinner and head to his room. The walk down the hall feels longer than usual; every step is weighed down by the anticipation of seeing him again. I don’t knock when I get to his door—never have, never will. I push it open and step inside, holding the tray like a shield.

Malachi’s sitting at the desk, a book open in front of him, his posture tense. When he hears the door, he looks up, and the moment he sees me, his expression shifts to something sharp and angry.

“Oh,” he says flatly, slamming the book shut. “It’s you. How lovely.”

I raise an eyebrow, stepping further into the room and setting the tray down. “Nice to see you too, Babyface.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, standing abruptly. His hands clench at his sides, and he glares at me like I’ve just ruined his entire evening. “Where the hell have you been?”

The question catches me off guard, but I don’t let it show. “Around,” I say as I lean with my hip against the desk and cross my arms over my chest. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so much.”

His glare sharpens, his cheeks flushing. “I didn’t miss you, you arrogant bastard. I just… I thought you’d finally fucked off and left me alone.”

I smirk, tilting my head. “You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly, his voice rising. “But it’s hard not to notice when the only person I see in this goddamn place disappears for two weeks.”

I shrug, watching him closely. “What’d you want? A note? Flowers? Maybe a little card that said, ‘Be back in two weeks, don’t miss me too much?’”

“Fuck you,” he mutters, turning away from me.

“Careful, Malachi,” I say, my voice dropping. “You’re startin’ to sound like you care.”

He whirls back around, his blue eyes blazing. “I don’t care. I just—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away again. “Nothin’.”

“God, I missed watchin’ you act like a brat,” I say, my grin widening when his cheeks flush even darker.

“Stop it,” he snaps, pointing a finger at me. “I mean it, Connor. Stop… whatever the fuck this is.”

“Whatever the fuck what is?” I ask, pushing off the desk and stepping closer. He stiffens but doesn’t back away, his hands clenching at his sides again.

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