36. Connor
Chapter 36
Connor
The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine fills the estate, the warmth of the fireplace cutting through the cold Romanian winter. The women’s laughter carries from the other room, the sound mixing with the low murmur of conversation from the men gathered around Mihai’s study.
It’s been a good Christmas. A normal one, as far as we get normal. The kind where no one’s died, no one’s been shot at, and the only fights have been over who gets the last slice of cake.
I lean back in my chair, swirling the whiskey in my glass, listening as Giovanni updates us on his wedding plans.
“Still goin’ through with it, then?” I ask, taking a sip.
Giovanni nods, his sharp eyes flickering over me and Mihai. Nikolai isn’t here, but we have him on a call right now. He wanted to spend Christmas back home because Cat would be there along with my parents. She’s starting to show and Nikolai has become slightly obsessive over the fact that he can see his child growing.
Odd turn of events, I’d say.
“...and everything’s moving into place,” Giovanni says.
We all know what that means. Giovanni’s marriage isn’t just about tradition—it’s about strategy, a way to solidify his position before making his move against his traitor of a father, Vito.
On the other end of the call, Nikolai hums, his voice clear through the speaker. “And you’re sure it’s secure?”
Mihai’s lips twitch, his fingers tapping against his glass. “Wouldn’t be letting Maddy or my sister attend if it wasn’t.”
Giovanni snorts, lounging back in his chair, his dark eyes gleaming. “You say that like I’d let anything happen to the women. You forget who you’re talking to, Mihai?”
Mihai lifts a brow. “I forget nothing, G. Just making sure you remember.”
The Italian rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “What’s the timeline look like?” I ask him.
He takes a slow sip of his drink before answering. “I’m busy consolidating my alliances and it’s looking positive as fuck. Found out a lot of the bigger families want nothing more to do with my father because he’s a slippery fuck who goes back on his word eighty percent of the time. So, we should be ready to move by summer.”
I nod, letting the information settle. It’s risky as fuck, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s Giovanni. He’s been waiting for his chance to take out Vito for years and, if he succeeds, it’ll shift the power structure of the Five Crowns entirely.
“So, besides the weddin’ plans,” I say, turning my gaze back to Mihai, “any other interestin’ movements?”
His expression darkens slightly. “Anthony Dawson’s been spending a lot of time in the States.”
That gets my full attention. “With who?”
Mihai exhales, setting his drink down. “Sergei Volkov and Alberto Giannini.”
The room goes still and Giovanni curses under his breath. “That can’t be good.”
“Why the fuck would he be meeting with Volkov?” Nikolai asks, his hatred for that name clear over the phone. “I thought he was offering Santiago a place to lie low before he died. Why the fuck would he change sides now?”
Mihai shakes his head. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Sergei’s not known for wasting time. If he’s entertaining Dawson, there’s a reason.”
“We know he was playin’ both sides, since the fucker kidnapped our sisters,” I grit out, wanting to kill the cunt for a whole different reason.
I don’t like this.
Sergei Volkov isn’t just anyone. He’s the kind of man you don’t get an audience with unless you have something he wants. If Dawson’s dealing with him, it means he’s planning something bigger than just getting his son back.
And Giannini? That’s another layer of trouble.
I run a hand down my face. “You think they’re makin’ a move?”
Mihai leans forward, his gaze steady on both of us. “Dawson has resources, but he doesn’t have reach. Sergei does. And Giannini’s got his hands in every political pocket from New York to Rome. If they’re talking, it means Dawson’s trying to expand his influence.”
“That or he’s selling somethin’,” I mutter.
Mihai nods. “Or both.”
I clench my jaw, my mind already working through the implications. “Have we got eyes on him?”
Mihai smirks. “Of course.”
I smirk back. “Then let’s make sure we know every fuckin’ move he makes.”
Because if Dawson thinks he can strengthen his position without us knowing, he’s in for a rude fucking awakening.
Giovanni exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of the conversation. “Alright, so Dawson’s making moves. We’ll keep eyes on him. But let’s talk about something that isn’t a pain in my ass for five fucking minutes.”
Mihai laughs and leans back in his chair. “Like what?”
Giovanni raises a brow. “Like the fact that once the coup is over, we’re bringing in a new Crown.”
The room falls quiet. I glance at Mihai, whose smirk widens slightly as he taps his fingers against his glass. So, we’re finally talking about it.
Nikolai’s voice comes over the speaker, a low hum of interest. “You mean Drakos?”
Giovanni nods. “Yeah. Konstantin’s been proving himself for a while now. He’s got the resources, the influence, and most importantly—he’s loyal.”
Mihai lifts a brow. “Is he?”
Giovanni tilts his head. “He brought Marina back.”
That shuts Mihai up real quick. We all remember what went down when Marina and Cat were taken. It happened under Konstantin’s watch, but when it came time to make it right, he did. He was in the trenches with us, no hesitation, no excuses.
And he didn’t just help. He fucking delivered. He killed men with his bare hands when he saw the state Marina was in. Apparently, he went full blackout and doesn’t even remember the shit he did to those men.
I swirl the whiskey in my glass. “You trust him?”
Giovanni’s gaze sharpens. “Yeah. And you should too.”
Mihai exhales slowly, then nods once. “I don’t trust easily, but I’ll say this—he didn’t run when shit got bad. He stood with us.”
Nikolai hums. “So we’re making it official after the coup?”
“Reyes is out, so Konstantin takes that seat at the table. Our fathers know we need to fill that fucking seat before there’s a full-out war for it,” Gio explains.
I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. “That means we back him completely.”
Mihai looks at me. “You got a problem with that?”
I shake my head. “No. Just makin’ sure we’re all clear. If he joins, he’s one of us. No second-guessin’. No almost loyalty. If he fucks us over—”
“He won’t,” Giovanni says. “But if he does, I’ll be the first to put a bullet in his skull.”
Mihai lifts his glass. “To the future Five Crowns.”
Giovanni smirks, lifting his own. “To the Five Crowns.”
Nikolai chuckles over the line. “Well, shit. Guess I’ll drink alone, then.”
I laugh, clinking my glass against Mihai’s. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas, boys.”
The house is quiet now. The kind of quiet that settles after a long night of drinking, laughing, and pretending we’re not all living on the edge of war.
Most of the others have gone to bed. Giovanni was the first to turn in—something about needing sleep before Chiara caught him looking exhausted and gave him hell. Nikolai hung up not long after, making some sarcastic remark about how it wasn’t his fault he had better things to do than stay up listening to us talk politics.
Now it’s just Mihai and me.
I pour two glasses of whiskey, sliding one across the desk before taking a seat across from him. He takes it without a word, studying me with that sharp, calculating look he gets when he knows I have something on my mind but haven’t said it yet.
I lean back, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, watching the way the firelight flickers across the dark wood of Mihai’s study. It’s late—later than I should be up, considering how fucking tired I am. But I need to get something off my chest.
Mihai is the only one I can talk to about this. He’s been my best friend since we were kids, before the power, before the weight of our families settled onto our shoulders. He knows me better than anyone, and if there’s one person whose opinion I actually care about, it’s his.
So I don’t fuck around. I just say it.
“I think I’m in love with Malachi Dawson.”
Mihai blinks and his glass stills just before it reaches his lips, his brows pulling together slightly as he processes what I just said. It’s rare to catch him off guard. Almost impossible, really. But that? That sure as fuck did it.
He sets the glass down with a soft clink, exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry, what?”
I huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”
“No, Connor, I fucking did not,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face before giving me a look. “Let’s start with the part where I didn’t even realize you two were close, let alone—” He gestures vaguely at me. “Whatever the fuck this is.”
I smirk slightly. “Yeah, well, wasn’t exactly plannin’ for it to happen.”
Mihai scoffs. “No shit.” He narrows his eyes. “When did this even start?”
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, thinking back. “Took him from his bed in the middle of the night, locked him up, threatened him—real romantic beginning.”
Mihai snorts. “Right. Classic love story.”
I shake my head, exhaling. “I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t all at once.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, but the bastard got under my skin and now I can’t get him out.”
Mihai watches me with narrowed eyes. “How close are we talking?”
I exhale and grip my glass tighter. “He’s in my bed, Mihai. I was balls deep inside of him before I left home.”
“Jesus Christ.”
I glare at him for his stupid as fuck response. “That all you’ve got to say?”
He lets out a dry chuckle. “What the fuck else am I supposed to say, Connor? One minute you’re the cockiest bastard I know, sleeping your way through half of Europe, and the next, you’re sitting here telling me you’re in love with the son of the man who kidnapped our sisters.”
I scowl. “When you put it like that, it sounds worse than it is.”
“Oh no, it’s that bad,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “Does anyone else know?”
I shake my head. “No. And they fuckin’ can’t.”
Mihai whistles low and shakes his head. “Fuck.” He stares into his glass for a moment, then looks back at me. “This isn’t just a casual thing, is it?”
I smirk humorlessly. “Gave him a Claddagh ring for Christmas.”
Mihai freezes mid-sip. He lowers his glass slowly, his brows raising. “You did what now?”
I shrug and avoid his gaze. “Had it engraved with our initials and everything.”
He lets out a sharp breath, muttering something in Romanian under his breath, but I don’t say anything. I just take another sip of whiskey, letting it burn its way down.
Mihai exhales through his nose, studying me for a long moment. Then he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You really love him?”
I hesitate, but only for a second. “Aye,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I do.”
Mihai leans back, rolling his whiskey glass between his fingers. “Then you’re fucked.”
I snort. “Thanks for the advice, bestie.”
He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I mean it, Connor. You know how this looks, right? To your father? To everyone?”
I clench my jaw, looking away. “Yeah, I fuckin’ know.”
“Then what’s your plan?” Mihai asks, his tone calmer now, more measured. “Because, love or not, you know Declan’s not gonna just let this happen. Malachi is not just some guy, Connor. He’s leverage and a fucking bargaining chip. You think your father’s gonna be thrilled when he finds out you’ve been fucking the one thing he planned to use?”
I bristle, and my fingers tighten around my glass. “I know what Malachi is to my father. But he’s more than that to me.”
Mihai’s lips press together. “Yeah, I figured. But what about Malachi?”
I glance at him and frown. “What about him?”
He tilts his head. “He’s been locked up in your family’s estate for months and had no fucking choice in any of this. He’s yours because you made him yours.”
My stomach twists. “That’s not—”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t care about you,” he cuts in. “I’m not saying he doesn’t want this. But you need to be fucking sure he knows he has a choice.”
I go still… Why the fuck didn’t I think about this before?
Mihai sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re a possessive bastard. I get it. But Malachi has been trapped his whole fucking life. First under his father, now under yours. You think he even knows what freedom feels like?”
I swallow hard, my grip on my glass tightening.
“Give him a choice, Connor,” Mihai says, his voice quieter now. “If you love him, really love him, you’ll let him decide what this is for him. Not just for you.”
I stare at the fire, my chest tight and I hate that he’s fucking right.
Mihai sighs, rubbing at his temple. “Connor… you have to be careful.”
“I am careful,” I snap.
“Are you?” Mihai shoots back, his voice sharp. “Because if Declan finds out—when he finds out—it’s not just gonna be your ass on the line. It’s Malachi’s, too.”
I exhale harshly, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I know that, Mihai.”
He watches me closely. “Do you?”
I glare at him. “What the fuck are you tryin’ to say?”
Mihai leans forward again, his voice steady. “I’m saying I’ve known you since we were five, Connor. And in all that time, I’ve never seen you care about someone like this.”
I don’t respond.
Because, fuck, he’s right.
He exhales, shaking his head. “You’re in deep, brother, and I don’t blame you for it. But if you’re gonna do this, if you’re really gonna keep him, then you need to think. You need a plan.”
I nod slowly, my jaw tight. “I’m workin’ on it.”
Mihai lifts a brow and I scoff, feeling myself getting more pissed by the second. But not because of Mihai. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Mihai? That I’ve got it all figured out? That I have a nice little fuckin’ map drawn out, showin’ how I’m gonna keep Malachi and stay in my father’s good graces? Because I don’t. I don’t fuckin’ know what I’m gonna do. But I know that I’m not lettin’ him go.”
Mihai holds my gaze for a long moment, then sighs, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”
I smirk. “You knew that already.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really love him?” he asks again.
I nod once. “Yeah.”
Mihai exhales through his nose, then raises his glass. “Then I hope you’re ready for the fallout, brother. Because it’s coming whether you like it or not.”
I clink my glass against his, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas.”
But as I take another sip, my mind is already elsewhere—on Malachi, on Da, on the storm that’s coming.
And I know, without a doubt, that the moment I return home, everything is going to change.