Page 81 of Shameless Royalty

“I’ve been watchin’ you, y’know,” he says and a chill runs down my spine. “You’ve settled in well. Better than I would’ve expected for a man in your position.”

I swallow hard, keeping my breathing even. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I suppose you didn’t.” He studies me for a moment, then hums. “But I can’t help but wonder… have you gotten too comfortable?”

My stomach turns because I know what he’s saying. What he’s implying, but his next words have my heart stilling. “Connor’s got a soft spot for you, that much is clear.”

Declan steps even closer, coming to a stop just in front of me and tilting his head. The man smells like cigars, whiskey, and expensive cologne—a lethal combination.

“See, lad… Connor’s my son and only heir. He’s got responsibilities. A legacy to uphold. And you…” He lets the word linger, his gaze dropping briefly to my closed fist before flicking back up. “Well. I wonder if you understand your role in all this.”

A sharp spike of something terrifying twists in my gut and I look up at him, forcing my voice to stay even. “And what role would that be, sir?”

He smiles again, but this time it’s slow and calculated. Then he reaches out and taps the fist I have clenched around the ring. “The one my son has foolishly given you.”

My heart slams against my ribs. There it is. The confirmation I never fucking wanted.

Declan Cunningham knows.

I’m as good as dead.

My chest tightens, my mind racing a mile a fucking minute, trying to figure out what he wants from me, where this conversation is going, and how much he knows. But this man is impossible to fucking read.

He takes a step back and slips his hand into one of the pockets of his trousers, tilting his head. “Y’know, my son’s always been a stubborn one,” he muses, his voice smooth, thoughtful. “Headstrong. Reckless. But he’s also loyal. When he decides somethin’ is his, he doesn’t let go.”

I swallow hard, my throat like sandpaper. Declan’s gaze lifts back to mine, and there’s no question in his eyes now. Just knowing. “And it seems he’s decided you’re his.”

My breath shudders and the air in the room shifts, the walls closing in as I fight to keep my expression neutral, to keep my fucking cool. Because he might not be raising his voice, he might not be holding a gun or making outright threats. But I can feel the warning like a blade pressed to my throat just waiting for the wrong move.

I sit up straighter, forcing myself to keep my voice calm. “Is that a problem?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s bored and this is nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him. But his eyes… his fucking eyes are a different story.

“I wonder,” he says, his voice dipping lower. “Doyouthink it’s a problem?”

I hesitate. Because that’s the thing—I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck he’s getting at, what he really wants from me. But I know this man didn’t become who he is by playing fair.

“You’ve got my son twisted up over you and he’s makin’ moves he would never have entertained before,” he murmurs. “That’s not somethin’ I take lightly, lad.”

I hold his gaze, my jaw tight. “I didn’t ask him to want me.”

“That’s not the point, boy. He does want you. And that makes things complicated because you’ve already got his heart wrapped ‘round your fuckin’ finger.” He tilts his head. “Some would call that a direct weakness.”

I stare at him, my heart pounding. What the fuck does that mean?

Declan steps back, glancing at my fist once more before leveling me with a look that sends a shiver down my spine. “Enjoy your gift, Malachi.”

Then he turns and walks out, leaving the door open behind him.

I don’t move. I can’t fucking breathe, because that wasn’t a warning, it was a test I don’t know if I just passed or fucking failed.

Chapter 36

Connor

Thescentofroastedmeat and spiced wine fills the estate, the warmth of the fireplace cutting through the cold Romanian winter. The women’s laughter carries from the other room, the sound mixing with the low murmur of conversation from the men gathered around Mihai’s study.

It’s been a good Christmas. A normal one, as far as we get normal. The kind where no one’s died, no one’s been shot at, and the only fights have been over who gets the last slice of cake.

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