Page 6 of Shameless Royalty

And his stupid smirk. God, I want to wipe it off his face. Preferably with a brick.

“You’re starin’,” he says after a moment, clearly enjoying himself.

“Am not,” I mutter.

“Yeah, you are,” he says, cocking his head slightly, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, it happens. I’m used to it.”

I shove a piece of bread into my mouth to keep myself from saying something I’ll regret. He’s so full of himself that it’s actually impressive.

“You kidnapped the wrong person,” I finally say, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m not my father.”

“Aye, you’re not,” he agrees, his tone almost casual. “But you’re his son. Close enough.”

“That’s insane,” I snap, my anger bubbling to the surface. “You’re punishin’ me for somethin’ I didn’t do. For somethin’ I didn’t even know about.”

Connor shrugs, unbothered. “Welcome to the family business, Babyface. Guilt by association’s part of the package.”

“I hate you,” I mutter, refusing to look at him again.

“Is that what I get for bringin’ you dinner?” he shoots back, pushing off the desk and walking toward the door. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Don’t let your head get any bigger,” I snap, glaring at his retreating back.

He pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that somehow manages to look both charming and infuriating. “Too late.”

The door shuts behind him, and I’m left alone again, stewing in my frustration. It’s bad enough being locked in this place,treated like a pawn in some mafia chess game. But now I have to deal with him?

Arrogant. Cocky. Stupidly handsome.

I shake my head, shoving another bite of bread into my mouth. I’m not thinking about him.

I’m not.

But the image of his smirk, those tattoos, and the way he watches me like he knows exactly how to get under my skin—it lingers, no matter how much I hate it. And hate it, I do.

Because the last thing I need right now is to notice anything about Connor Cunningham.

Chapter 4

Connor

I’msittinginachair opposite Da’s desk, arms crossed, staring out the window. The rain’s pelting down like it’s got something to prove, but all it does is make the gray stone of the estate look even bleaker.

It’s been two days since Da told me Nikolai and Konstantin were coming, and I’ve been dreading this moment ever since.

The clock ticks louder than usual, or maybe that’s just my mood playing tricks on me. I hate waiting, and having to wait for him feels like swallowing glass.

The door creaks open, and Nikolai steps in first, followed by Konstantin. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms as my eyes flick over them. Nikolai looks… different.

Gone is the cocky swagger that used to irritate me and, if I’m being honest, sometimes made me laugh. Now, his shoulders are stiff, his expression is grim, and his gaze doesn’t meet mine.

“Sir,” Nikolai says, his voice quiet as he nods toward my father. When he finally looks at me, there’s no trace of the Nikolai I used to know. “Connor.”

I don’t answer, just give him a tight nod, which he doesn’t seem surprised by. Good. He shouldn’t expect anything else.

Konstantin, on the other hand, looks the same as ever—imposing as hell, with his tall frame, slicked-back hair, and those unsettling gray eyes. He’s got his usual air of confidence, but there’s something darker beneath it today. Maybe guilt, maybe determination. Hard to say with him.

“Sit,” Da says, his voice low but commanding.

---