Page 35 of Shameless Royalty

I hate how easily he gets under my skin, how he always knows just the right buttons to push. Most of all, I hate that a small, stupid part of me wants to tell him. But I don’t. Because no matter how much he pries, no matter how much he acts like he cares, I know better. This is just a game to him, and I’m not in the right mindset to play today.

“I’m tired,” I say finally, my voice weak. “That’s all.”

Connor watches me for a long moment, his smirk completely gone now. He doesn’t believe me, but for once, he doesn’t press. Instead, he stands, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Fine,” he says, his tone clipped. “Be tired. Be miserable. See if I give a fuck.”

He turns to leave, but something about the set of his shoulders makes my chest tighten. I almost call out to him, almost say something to make him stop. But I don’t.

The door slams behind him, and I’m alone again. The silence feels heavier now, like it’s pressing down on my chest. I let outa shaky breath, turning back to the window. The rain is still falling, but it feels colder now.

And somehow, so do I.

Chapter 21

Connor

IstormoutofMalachi’s room, slamming the door harder than I mean it to. His dismissive tone, the way he barely looked at me, and that goddamn question—Why do you care?—it’s all rattling around in my head, setting my teeth on edge.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much. He’s always been a pain in the ass, but this? This felt different. Like he wasn’t just being his usual bratty self—he was shutting me out completely. And fuck if I know why that gets under my skin the way it does.

I shove my hands into my pockets, stalking through the halls and down the stairs toward the kitchen. The smell hits me before I even step inside—something warm and rich; garlic and butter and whatever magic my mother’s got going on in there. I pause for half a second at the doorway, trying to shake off the storm brewing in my chest, but it doesn’t budge.

She’s standing by the stove, her back to me, blonde hair twisted up in a messy knot. She’s humming something soft and familiar, and she has a saucepan in one hand and a woodenspoon in the other. Her movements are smooth, practiced—like she’s still dancing, even now.

“Jaysus, what’re you burnin’ this time, Ma?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

Without turning around, she waves the spoon at me. “Keep it up, Connor, and I’ll burn your dinner on purpose.”

I snort, stepping into the kitchen. “Smells too good for that.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she says, finally glancing over her shoulder. Her green eyes, so much like Cat’s with their scattered blue flecks, narrow slightly as she looks me up and down. “You’ve got a face like thunder. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, dropping into one of the chairs at the table.

She arches an elegant brow, setting the spoon down and turning to face me fully. “Don’t ‘nothing’ me, Connor. You’re stompin’ around like a bull in a china shop. Spit it out.”

I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s nothin’ important.”

“Bullshite,” she says, her voice sharp enough to make me flinch. She steps closer, planting her hands on her hips. “Start talkin’, or I’ll drag it out of you the hard way.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. There’s no winning with her. There never is. “Fine,” I say, my tone clipped. “It’s just… someone. Someone who’s being a complete pain in the arse.”

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “Someone, is it? Do go on.”

I hesitate, trying to figure out how to phrase this without giving too much away. “They’re… impossible. They won’t talk and won’t let me in, and it’s like every time I try, they just shut me out harder. It’s fuckin’ exhaustin’.”

She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp, all-knowing eyes. “Sounds like they’ve gotten under your skin.”

“No shite,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about it, and about them. It’s drivin’ me up the wall, Ma.”

“Hmm,” she hums, moving back to the stove and stirring whatever’s in the saucepan. “And this‘someone,’are they important to you?”

I stiffen, my jaw tightening. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because my son, who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about anyone or anythin’, is suddenly losin’ sleep over someone who’s not important.”

“Ma,” I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “Can we not do this?”

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