Page 12 of Shameless Royalty

“None of your business,” he says, his tone clipped.

“None of my—” I shake my head, anger flaring. “You show up after four bloody days lookin’ like you went ten rounds with a brick wall, and I’m just supposed to ignore it?”

He shrugs, wincing slightly at the movement. “Pretty much.”

I glare at him, crossing my arms. “That’s bullshite.”

“Stop bein’ nosy,” he shoots back, though there’s no real bite in it.

The room goes quiet for a moment, the tension between us thicker than I expected. He picks at a loose thread on his shirt, not looking at me, and for the first time since I’ve been here, he seems… human. Vulnerable, even.

It’s fucking with my head.

“So, where’ve you been?” I ask, breaking the silence. “I thought you’d given up on me.”

He looks up, his green eyes meeting mine. There’s something in his gaze—exhaustion, maybe. “Had things to take care of.”

“Things?” I press, stepping closer.

He straightens, his jaw tightening. “I said it’s none of your business.”

I bite back a retort, my curiosity warring with my irritation. “Fine. Be mysterious. See if I care.”

Connor huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You care, Babyface. Don’t lie.”

I bristle at the nickname, but I don’t take the bait. Not this time. Instead, I gesture at his face. “You should get that looked at. Before your ego deflates entirely.”

He smirks faintly, the closest he’s come to the Connor I remember from before. “Careful, Malachi. You’re startin’ to sound worried.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray he brought in. “You’re right. I’m worried. Worried you’ll bleed all over the rug.”

“Nice save,” he says, leaning back against the desk.

As I pick at the food, I sneak another glance at him. He’s quieter than usual—less sharp around the edges. It’s almost unnerving.

“You’re not yourself,” I say before I can think better of it.

Connor freezes, his jaw tightening. “And who exactly do you think I am, Malachi?” he asks, his voice low.

I swallow hard, thrown by the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t know. You’re not the cocky arsehole who kidnapped me a few days ago.”

For a split second, something flickers in his eyes—something that looks suspiciously like pain. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a blank mask.

“That man died three nights ago,” he says, his voice sharp and cutting.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. What can I even say to that? “Seriously,” I say after a while, my voice softer. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer right away. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost reluctant. “Had a job. It went sideways.”

“Sideways how?”

“I had to remind a few people what happens when they cross my family. And I didn’t do it with a smirk or a smartass comment. I did it because it needed to be done,” he replies, his tone bitter.

I frown, studying him. “And you had to get your hands dirty?”

Connor’s eyes meet mine again, and for a moment, I see it—the weight he’s carrying, the lines it’s carving into his face. “Always do.”

The words hang in the air, heavier than I expected. I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, shoving another forkful of food into my mouth to keep myself from saying something stupid.

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