Page 71 of Shameless Royalty

His voice lowers, steady and sure. “No one’s touchin’ you, Malachi.”

I shake my head. “Connor, this—whatever this is—it’s not realistic.”

His jaw ticks. “And why the fuck not?”

I look away, heart pounding in my chest. “Because I’m the enemy’s son,” I say, like it’s a curse. “Because this is temporary, no matter how much we both pretend—”

“Nothing about this feels temporary to me,” he says, his voice raw, and it almost knocks the breath out of me. “You think I do this with anyone else? You think I let anyone else under my skin like you? I fuckin’ hate that you make me feel like this, and I still can’t stop wanting you.”

I stare at him, something breaking open in my chest.

Then, before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Then prove it.”

His lips part. I see it—the exact moment he wants to say something, anything, to give me a promise he can’t keep. But he doesn’t. He runs a hand through his hair instead, muttering, “Fuck,” like the word’s been clawed out of him.

I look away, and the emptiness that follows settles hard in my chest.

Connor wants me. I don’t doubt that. He’s possessive, he’s protective, and maybe he even thinks he can keep me. But when it’s time to choose—when the world forces his hand—he’ll pick his father, his family, his name and his fucking legacy.

He won’t choose me, and I can’t fucking blame him for that. But I’ll hate myself for believing, even for a second, that I could be enough.

The realization makes something in me crack wide open, and I hate how fucking pathetic I feel. How stupid I was to think—even for a second—that this could be real.

I push at his chest, trying to sit up, trying to get away from him before the lump in my throat turns into something I can’t swallow. But Connor doesn’t let me go.

“Malachi—”

“Let me go.” My voice shakes, and I fucking hate it.

“No,” he growls, holding on tighter. “I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this with you—”

“You have to do this with me,” I snap, shoving at him harder. “This is my fuckin’ life, Connor. This isn’t some game, this isn’t just us—” My voice breaks, and I shake my head, exhaling sharply.

“You think I don’t fuckin’ know that?” he snarls.

“No,” I spit. “I don’t. Because you keep acting like this is something we can have, like your father’s not gonna find out and string me up just to make a point—”

“I won’t let that happen—”

“YOU CAN’T STOP IT, CONNOR!” I yell, my voice cracking completely, and everything stills.

My breath is ragged, my hands are trembling where I grip the blanket. My throat is tight, my vision blurred, and fuck, Ihate this. Hate the way my chest is aching over something that should’ve never fucking started in the first place.

Connor’s jaw clenches so tightly I can hear his teeth grinding. He looks like he wants to punch something. Break something. Maybe even me. But instead of letting him snap, I drive the knife in deeper.

“You can’t stop this,” I whisper, my voice raw. “You can’t protect me from your father. And even if you could, I’d still be your fuckin’ prisoner. You want to pretend I’m not a pawn in this? Fine. But your father doesn’t see it that way. Your family doesn’t see it that way. And neither does mine.”

Connor shakes his head, breathing hard. “You don’t know that.”

I laugh bitterly, even as tears burn at the edges of my eyes. “You think my father wants me back because he gives a shite about me?” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate how much it fucking hurts to say it. “He wants me back because I’m his. Because I have his name. Because he refuses to lose to your family.”

Connor swallows hard, his hands tightening into fists like he wants to hit something. “That doesn’t mean—”

“It means everythin’,” I snap. “It means you’re delusional if you think this can last.”

Connor exhales sharply through his nose, his hands still clenching like he’s barely holding himself back.

“You say I’m yours, but that doesn’t mean anything outside of this room,” I shake my head, my chest caving in on itself. “This isn’t going to work, Connor.”

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