14. Connor
Chapter 14
Connor
The next morning, I decided to turn things up a notch. If Malachi thought I was messing with him before, he’s in for a proper wake-up call today. I grab the breakfast tray and head down the hall toward his room.
But this time, I leave my shirt behind. Why? Because I’m a bastard, and because I’m pretty sure it’ll drive him completely fucking mad.
Unlocking the door, I push it open without knocking. Malachi’s sitting on the bed again, legs crossed, a book perched on his lap. He doesn’t look up right away, too absorbed in whatever he’s reading, but when I step inside, his eyes flick up—and immediately go wide.
“What in the fuck?” he blurts, snapping the book shut.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say, smirking as I saunter in, setting the tray down on the desk. “You’re lookin’ chipper.”
“Why the hell are you shirtless?” he demands, his voice pitching higher than usual. His eyes are glued to the floor, his cheeks flushing a shade of red I don’t think I’ve seen before.
I shrug, leaning back against the desk like I always do. “Why not? It’s my house. Pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Christ. Do you ever stop?”
“Not when I’m havin’ this much fun,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest—casually, of course, just enough to emphasize the movement. His eyes flick up for half a second before darting away, and I try my best not to laugh.
“You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he mutters, grabbing the book and holding it in front of his face like a shield.
“And you’re terrible at hidin’ when you’re flustered,” I shoot back. “Seriously, Malachi, you’re like a human thermometer with that blush.”
“I am not blushin’,” he snaps, his voice muffled by the book.
“Sure you’re not,” I say, chuckling as I grab the chair and spin it around, straddling it. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold. You can swoon over me later.”
“I am not swooning!” he snaps again, lowering the book just enough to glare at me.
“I can see that,” I tease, grabbing a piece of toast from the tray and taking a bite.
He stares at me, clearly torn between throwing the book at my head and retreating into it entirely. Eventually, he gets up and grabs the tray before walking back to his bed. Then he starts picking at the food, grumbling under his breath the entire time.
“See?” I say, leaning forward on the chair. “Was that so hard? A little breakfast, a little company, and a lot of unnecessary blushin’. It’s practically domestic.”
“Go away,” he mutters, but there’s no real venom in his tone. He shoves a piece of toast in his mouth, probably to keep from saying something else.
“Don’t wanna,” I say, grinning as I cross my arms on the back of the chair. “So, what’s the plan for today, Babyface? Another walk? More books?”
“For the love of Christ, stop callin’ me Babyface,” he snaps, pointing his fork at me.
“Make me,” I say, my grin widening.
He glares at me for a moment, then shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “bloody bastard.”
I chuckle, standing and stretching for good measure. His eyes flick toward me again, just for a second, before darting back to his plate. The blush is back, and it’s fucking glorious.
“Alright,” I say, grabbing the chair and setting it back in place. “I’ll let you eat in peace. For now.”
“Finally,” he mutters, not looking up.
I head for the door, pausing just before I step out. Glancing back, I catch him sneaking a quick look—at my back, no less—and the corner of my mouth twitches.
“Enjoy the view, Malachi,” I say, throwing him a wink as I step into the hall.
The door shuts behind me, but I can still hear him cursing under his breath. I can’t stop grinning all the way back to my room.
Malachi Dawson might be a pain in the ass, but he’s quickly becoming the most interesting part of my day.
And I’m not about to let him forget it.
I push Malachi’s door open without knocking. He’s lying on the bed on his stomach, nose buried in a book from the new stash I brought him. When he looks up, his expression instantly shifts to that same irritation I think is reserved just for me.
“What now?” he asks, snapping the book shut.
“We’re going for a walk,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
He snorts, shutting the book. “You’ve got a weird obsession with draggin’ me around this estate. What’s the point?”
“It’s good for you,” I say, smirking. “Fresh air, a bit of exercise. Keeps you from losin’ your shite completely.”
He snorts, setting the book on the desk. “Fine, whatever. But if this turns into another lecture about my father—”
“Relax, Babyface,” I cut in, already amused by his defensive tone. “No lectures. Just a walk. Unless you’re too scared of a little cardio?”
Malachi groans but doesn’t argue. He sets the book aside and pulls on his shoes, muttering something under his breath about “bossy bastards” as he follows me out of the room. I let it slide, grinning to myself as we head outside. It’s quiet, save for the crunch of our footsteps and the occasional bird chirping overhead.
“So,” I say, breaking the quiet, “tell me about yourself.”
He glances at me, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, where’d you work? Study? What were you doin’ before all this?” I gesture vaguely at the estate.
Malachi snorts, shaking his head. “You already know everythin’. Why ask?”
“I don’t know everythin’ about you,” I say, shrugging. “I know what your da’s done. That’s not the same thing.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his shoulders tightening. Then he sighs. “Alright, if it’ll shut you up.”
“Not likely,” I mutter, earning myself a glare.
He glances at me, skeptical, but after a moment, he sighs. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
I shrug. “Start with the basics. What were you doing before all this? Studyin’ or workin’?”
“Both,” he says reluctantly. “I was studyin’ marine biology at university on a scholarship. And I worked at a coffee shop to pay for housin’ and shite..”
“Marine biology?” I raise an eyebrow. “What were you plannin’ on doin’ with that? Save the planet?”
“Something like that,” he mutters. “Thought maybe I’d go into conservation or somethin’.”
“That’s… unexpectedly noble,” I admit, genuinely impressed. “How’d you end up workin’ at a coffee shop?”
He shrugs. “Needed money and didn’t want to ask my da. So, I got a job pullin’ espresso shots and puttin’ up with arseholes who think their cappuccino foam isn’t foamy enough.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like hell.”
“It was,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But it wasn’t all bad. I liked the regulars. And I got to drink as much coffee as I wanted.”
“That explains the sass,” I say with a smirk. “Caffeine overdose.”
He laughs, and it’s the first genuine laugh I’ve heard from him since he got here. It’s soft and warm, and it makes something in my chest tighten. I don’t let it show, though. Instead, I grin and keep walking.
I nod, filing that little nugget of information away. “Alright. Favorite animal?”
He glances at me, surprised. “Why do you care?”
“I’m curious. Humor me.”
He rolls his eyes but answers. “Snow leopard.”
“Solid choice,” I say, impressed. “Why?”
“They’re beautiful,” he says, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “And strong. But they don’t make a big show of it. They’re… quiet.”
“Like you,” I say, smirking. “Well, except for the quiet part.”
“Fuck off,” he mutters. “What about you?”
I glance at him, surprised. “What about me?”
He shrugs. “You know all my dirty laundry. Fair’s fair.”
I grin. “I’m an open book, Babyface. What do you want to know?”
“Stop calling me that,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Why the tattoos?”
I glance down at my arms, the ink twisting and curling like it’s alive. “What, these?”
“No, the invisible ones,” he deadpans. “Yes, those.”
I chuckle, running a hand over my forearm. “They’re little pieces of who I am, what I’ve done. Some of it’s for protection, some of it’s for show. All of it’s part of me.”
“That’s… surprisingly poetic,” he says, his tone skeptical.
“Don’t get used to it,” I reply, smirking.
We walk for a while, the tension between us easing as the conversation flows. He tells me more about his time at university, his struggles to balance work and studies, and a bit about his favorite places to hike when he had the time.
It’s the most he’s opened up since he got here, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve cracked open a door I wasn’t supposed to find. He’s still guarded, still prickly, but he loosens up bit by bit, and when he laughs again, it lights up his whole face.
“See?” I say, grinning. “You’re not always miserable.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he says, throwing my words back at me.
But then the second part of my plan kicks in.
As we round the corner near the main gardens, one of the guards approaches. He’s tall and slender, with dark hair and a nervous energy that’s impossible to miss. He stops a few feet away, his gaze flicking between me and Malachi.
I glance at Malachi. “Wait here.”
“What?” he says, frowning. “Why—”
“Just wait,” I say, cutting him off. “Won’t take long.”
Malachi looks like he wants to argue, but I don’t give him the chance. I stride toward the man, who lowers his gaze as I approach.
“Bedroom,” I say simply, my voice low. “Now.”
The man’s cheeks flush, and he nods quickly. “Yes, sir.”
Before he can turn, I grab his chin and tilt his face up, brushing my lips against his in a quick kiss that turns deep and has my cock twitching. His breath catches, and for a split second, he looks like he might melt.
Then he straightens, murmurs another “Yes, sir,” and walks away.
I turn back toward Malachi, keeping my expression neutral, like nothing out of the ordinary just happened. But when I meet his eyes, the reaction is better than I could’ve hoped for.
He’s staring at me, wide-eyed, his face practically glowing red. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again like he’s trying to find words and failing miserably.
“You alright there, Babyface?” I ask, smirking as I step closer.
“I…” He swallows hard, his gaze darting everywhere but at me. “What the fuck was that?”
“That?” I say casually. “That was none of your business.”
His blush deepens, and he crosses his arms over his chest, scowling. “But seriously, you’re lookin’ a little pink. You feelin’ okay?”
“Shut up,” he mutters, turning away to hide his face.
I chuckle, falling into step beside him as we head back toward the house. This is going to be even more fun than I thought.