Page 80 of Shameless Royalty

Theringglintsinthe dim light as I turn it over between my fingers, the engraved CM catching against my thumb. It’s heavier than it should be, pressing into my palm like it holds more weight than just silver.

Because it does.

I swallow hard, staring at it, remembering this morning—waking up in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, surrounded by him.

The heat of his body pressed against mine, the lazy drag of his fingertips down my spine, the quiet “Mine”he’d murmured into my skin before kissing me breathless all over again.

Connor has been my first for everything.

My first kiss.

My first time.

My first fucking everything.

And now, as I lay here, staring at the proof of what he’s given me, of what he’s claimed, I can’t lie to myself anymore.

I’m in love with him.

The thought makes my chest ache, makes something inside me twist painfully because I know—I know—that this isn’t as simple as it feels when it’s just us, when it’s just Connor and Malachi.

Outside of these walls, outside of his bed, there are consequences. Because our love isn’t safe, it’s fucking dangerous. But with Connor, it feels inevitable. Like he was always meant to be mine. Like I was always meant to be his.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the ring to my lips as if that’ll somehow keep the thought from swallowing me whole.

And that’s when the door opens. I jolt upright, my heart slamming into my ribs as my gaze snaps toward the entrance and my fist curls around the ring.

The second I see who’s standing there, my blood freezes.

Declan Cunningham. What the fuck, I thought Connor said he was in the States?

He steps inside with an easy, almost lazy grace, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just studies me, those sharp green eyes—the same fucking shade as Connor’s—piercing through me like he already knows every fucking thought in my head.

“Merry Christmas, lad,” he says, his voice smooth, edged with something unreadable. He cocks his head slightly, his eyes scanning me like he’s cataloging every detail, every weakness.

“Mr. Cunningham,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

His lips twitch slightly like the formality amuses him. “Ah, now. No need for all that.” He steps further inside, looking around my room as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it. “We’ve been livin’ under the same roof for a while now, haven’t we?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

Because every instinct in my body is screaming at me that this isn’t just a casual visit. The head of an Irish Mob syndicate,Declan Cunningham is not a man who wastes his time, and right now he’s wasting it on me.

“I think it’s time we had a chat, lad.” His voice is steady and casual, but there’s something underneath it, something I can’t fucking place but feel in my gut.

A warning.

A threat.

I tighten my fingers around the ring in my hand, forcing my expression into something neutral. “A chat,” I repeat, my voice steady despite the fact that my pulse is a goddamn wreck.

He nods and walks over to me, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. “Aye. Thought it was about time.”

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin, but I keep my face blank. “What do you want to have a chat about?”

Declan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Now, Malachi. No need to play dumb. You’re a smart boy.”

I grip the ring tighter in my fist, my pulse thrumming like a fucking war drum in my ears. Then he exhales slowly, taking a few unhurried steps closer, his hands clasped behind his back.

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