23. Connor
Chapter 23
Connor
The second the door clicks shut and the lock turns, my shoulders sag, and my carefully constructed cool cracks right down the middle.
I lean against the wood, my forehead pressed against it, trying to breathe through the mess I’ve just made. My chest is tight, my blood’s still running hot, and I’m harder than I’ve ever fucking been. All because of him.
Those blue eyes. Christ, those fucking eyes.
Those damn blue eyes won’t leave my head, wide and soft and so goddamn sad it felt like they were cutting me in two. I hate it. I hate the way it made me feel—like I’d do anything to take his sadness away, to see those eyes light up instead of dim.
I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through my hair. What the fuck are you doing, Connor?
The answer’s clear, even if I don’t want to admit it. I crossed a line. Hell, I obliterated the line. The moment I touched him, murmured those words in Gaelic, kissed his neck… there’s no coming back from that. Not for me, anyway. And I don’t regret it. Not a single fucking second of it.
I push off the door, pacing down the hall as I try to shake the images flashing through my mind. Malachi, leaning into my touch like he belonged there. The way he gasped when my lips brushed his neck, the sound shooting straight through me like a bullet.
The flush on his cheeks when I called him mo stóirín.
Fuck . I rake my hands through my hair, gripping tight like I can rip the thoughts right out of my head. He hasn’t taken his meds since I kidnapped him and that’s on me.
I’m not supposed to care. Not supposed to feel this tightness in my chest, this guilt gnawing at me like a fucking infection. But I do. And now, I’ve made it worse. I promised to get him his script like I actually give a shit beyond what’s necessary. Like it fucking matters.
I press a fist against the wall, trying to ground myself. Malachi Dawson is not my problem.
Except he is.
I took him. His life is in my hands. I have enough blood on them already; I don’t need his too.
But it’s more than that, isn’t it? If it were just about the job, just about the fucking war we’re in, I wouldn’t be standing here spiraling like some lovesick idiot. I wouldn’t be thinking about the way he looked at me when I touched him like he wanted it, like he needed it just as much as I did.
I shake my head, trying to walk this feeling off, but it doesn’t budge. It’s lodged deep in my ribs, twisting and pulling, making it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t have let him hear my voice like that—soft, not a threat, not a demand. Just him and me, standing too close, breathing the same air, feeling the same fucking heat.
I should’ve walked away before it ever got to this. But I didn’t. And now I’m stuck, trapped between duty and this unbearable pull toward him.
I need a drink. Something to burn this feeling out of my chest. Something to remind me who the fuck I am and what I’m supposed to be doing here. Because if I don’t, I might just go back into that room, sit on that bed, and make another fucking mistake.
I glance at my father’s study as I pass it, the door shut tight. For half a second, I think about going in. Da always knows what to do—always has the answers, the plan, the path forward. But this? No way. I can already imagine his face if I told him I’d been feeling up Malachi Dawson, our hostage and the son of the man who tried to ruin us.
Disappointment. That’s what it would be. A sharp, cold weight between us that I can’t afford right now.
So I keep walking, heading upstairs to check on Cat instead.
Her door’s ajar, so I knock lightly before stepping in. She’s curled up on the bed, her hair spilling over her pillow, but she’s awake, scrolling through something on her phone.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
She glances up as I enter and I notice there’s a softness to her face now that wasn’t there a few months ago, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Connor.”
I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me. “How’s my favorite sister?”
“I’m your only sister,” she says, setting her phone down.
“Still counts,” I reply, grinning as I sit on the edge of the bed.
She shifts to sit up, tucking her legs under her. “I’m okay,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “Tired, but better.”
I nod, stepping closer. “You’re lookin’ stronger.”
“Thanks,” she says, her smile widening just slightly. “I feel stronger. Ma’s been helping.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully. “You know I’m proud of you, right? For pushin’ through all this.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “You’ve been telling me that a lot lately.”
“Because it’s true,” I say, nudging her lightly. “You’re a fighter, Cat. Always have been.”
She looks down at her hands, twisting the edge of the blanket between her fingers. “I’m just trying to get back to normal.”
“You’ll get there,” I say firmly. “One step at a time.”
She nods, and the room falls quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” she says, tilting her head. “What’s up?”
I think about Mihai’s offer to come visit him in Romania and decide to bite the bullet. “Mihai’s invited us to spend Christmas with him,” I start. “He wants us all to be there, and—”
“Nikolai will be there too,” she finishes for me and I nod as guilt spears through me for some reason.
“Does that bother you?” I ask, realizing I haven’t really asked her about anything regarding her ‘relationship’ with Nikolai. “I can call him and cancel?”
Cat bites the corner of her bottom lip and fiddles with her sleeves. “I… I don’t know yet,” she admits, her voice quieter than before. “It’s not like I can avoid Nikolai forever especially after—”
I watch her as she stops herself, waiting for her to say more. She looks down at her hands, fingers twisting in her sleeves again, and I know she’s holding something back.
“Cat,” I say, my voice softer now. “Talk to me.”
She exhales, long and slow, like she’s gathering her thoughts. “I know about the engagement.”
I nod. “I figured you did.”
She lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you knew.” Then her smile fades, and I see the clear resentment on her face. “Did you know before I did?”
I don’t answer right away, and that’s enough of an answer for her. She scoffs. “Jesus Christ, Connor.”
“Da told me while we were plannin’ to get you back,” I say, my tone edged with frustration. “It wasn’t my choice to keep it from you, nor was it my place to tell you.”
“But you knew,” she says, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”
“I would’ve,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. “But it’s not like you wouldn’t have found out soon enough. And honestly, what the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Cat, just a heads up, Da decided to marry you off to the man who treated you like garbage’ ?”
Her lips press into a tight line. “Yeah, actually. That would’ve been nice.”
I let out a heavy sigh, running my hands over my face. “I hated it too, you know. Hated that he went behind your back, hated that you didn’t get a say. But I get why he did it.”
Cat lets out a humorless laugh. “Right. Because I’m carrying the next Russian Crown, and that means I have to play nice and do what’s best for the family.”
I don’t say anything because what the fuck else can I say? She’s not wrong.
She leans back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s funny, you know. All my life, I thought I’d get to choose who I’d end up with. That maybe, just maybe , I’d get to fall in love like a normal person.” She lets out a slow breath. “Da was the easiest to talk to, so I didn’t think I’d end up as a bargaining chip like the other mafia princesses. But no. One slip up, and suddenly my future isn’t mine anymore.”
I clench my jaw, feeling something ugly twist in my gut. “It’s not like that, Cat.”
She snaps her gaze to mine, her green eyes blazing. “Isn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell looks like I’m just a piece to be moved on the board.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not about that.”
Cat huffs. “Then what is it about, Connor? Because I sure as hell don’t see another reason for this arrangement.”
I hesitate. “It’s about makin’ sure you and the baby are both protected. Da’s doing what he thinks is best, so is Dmitri. You can’t blame them because this is how they were raised.”
She flinches at that, and I regret saying it the second it leaves my mouth. “Right,” she says bitterly. “Because Nikolai was so fucking protective when he told me to get rid of it.”
The words hang between us, and my heart fucking breaks for her. Cat almost never gets angry, and hardly curses, so I know this has pissed her off more than she’s showing.
My hands curl into fists. “He was a fuckin’ idiot for saying that.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, he was.”
I look at her, really look at her, and I see how much this has fucked with her. She’s always been strong, always been able to handle whatever life threw at her, but this? This broke something in her.
And I hate that I couldn’t stop it.
I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to calm down. “How do you feel about it?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I feel great, Connor. Can’t you tell?”
“No need for the goddamn snark, Cat.” My voice is softer now as I take her hand in mine. “Tell me the truth.”
She drops her gaze, her fingers tightening on mine. “I’m not over it,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper. “The way he threw me aside. The way he told me to get rid of the baby like it was nothing but an inconvenience.”
My chest tightens. I knew Nikolai had been an absolute bastard about this, but hearing her say it out loud makes my blood fucking boil.
“I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “I did hate him. For weeks, I thought about nothing else. And now? Now I have to stand next to him, smile, and act like this was always meant to happen.” She exhales shakily. “It’s humiliating.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”
She gives me a small, tired smile. “I know.”
I stare at her, the sister I swore I’d always protect, and I feel useless. Because what can I do? Break the engagement? Start a war? I’d do it. If she asked me, I would burn this entire fucking empire down.
But she won’t ever ask that of me.
“I don’t trust him,” I say, my voice hard. “He’s asked for my forgiveness and to make it up to us, but I still don’t trust him. Not like I used to.”
“He apologized to me as well, and I don’t trust him either,” she admits, “but I have to trust that he’ll do right by the baby.”
This surprises me more than anything and I don’t know what to say to that. Cat doesn’t say anything either, she just fiddles with my hand in hers and for a long time, neither of us speaks. The rain continues to patter against the window, filling the silence.
Then she says, “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
I look at her, taking in the vulnerability in her expression and the way she’s bracing herself for my answer.
“No,” I say finally. “I think you’re makin’ the best of a shite situation. I may not trust Nikolai, but I know he won’t let you down a second time. I trust him with your life, and in turn, I trust him with Sparky’s life.”
Cat chuckles at this, and that smile I love spreads across her face. “Sparky? Where the hell is that coming from?”
I grin. “The bean survived a kidnappin’, torture, and being Nikolai’s. If that’s not the definition of being lively and vivacious, then I don’t know what is,” I say and she bursts out laughing, the sound warming me right up. “Besides, any baby is a miracle.”
She nods at this, exhaling in what seems like relief, and then she lets go of my hand and lies back against the pillows. “Thanks for checking on me, Connor.”
“Always,” I say, standing and ruffling her hair. She swats at my hand, but she’s smiling, and that’s all I need. “Love you, Cat.”
“Love you too, CC,” she says, the smile still on her face but her eyes are glazed over. She’s going to cry, but she doesn’t want me here to see it.
So, I leave her room while feeling conflicted. The storm in my chest is still there, quieter now but no less real. And as I head back toward my own room, I know I won’t be getting much sleep tonight. Not with Malachi’s blue eyes haunting me like a ghost and Cat’s sadness squeezing my heart.