Page 58 of Reckless Royalty

He stands up slowly, stretching his arms above his head and wincing slightly as his back cracks from sleeping in the chair. I stifle another giggle at the sight of him—wild curls, creased shirt, and sleep-heavy eyes.

“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. “You’re laughing at me?”

I shrug, trying to keep a straight face, but I can’t hide the smile. “You looked… peaceful sleeping.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Peaceful, huh? You mean I look like a fucking mess.”

I laugh softly, and he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips now too. Deciding to be a bit brave, I walk toward him, then reach up and mess up his curls more, and the look on his face makes me burst out laughing again.

“Why are you petting me like a dog,frumoasa?” he says, gently swatting my hands away and for a moment, everything feels… normal.

Like the world hasn’t been falling apart around us, like there isn’t a storm of danger and betrayal waiting just outside these walls. It’s just Mihai and me, standing in the soft morning light, laughing about how ridiculous he looks after sleeping in a chair all night.

I bite my bottom lip, my heart pounding in my chest as I look up at Mihai. There’s something I need to say, something I’ve been holding onto, and the weight of it is suddenly crushing.

“I… I need to talk to your father,” I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Mihai’s brows furrow, confusion flashing across his face. “My father? Why?” His voice is careful, but there’s an edge of concern there too.

I swallow hard, my mind racing with the memory that’s been clawing at the back of my mind for days. It’s not just about the attack—it’s about what happened before. What I saw. What I remember.

“I remember who Santiago was with,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I remember what they were talking about. Before the gunman walked in.”

Mihai’s eyes darken instantly, his body going rigid.

“What?” His voice is low, dangerous, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You remember everything?”

I nod, my throat tightening. The memories hit me in waves, flashes of the conversation Santiago was having before the shots rang out. It all comes rushing back, and I feel like I can’t breathe. The gunman, the chaos… and then nothing. I’d buried it all, locked it away, but now it’s clear. Crystal clear.

“I heard them,” I continue, my voice trembling. “They were talking about brokering a deal with a Giana… Giani? Giannini? I don’t remember, and then?—”

Mihai cuts me off, his hand gripping my shoulder, his touch firm but not harsh. “Maddy, stop.” His voice is soft but commanding. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll take it straight to my father. But listen to me—no one else can know you’re talking. Not yet. Not until we’re sure it’s safe and especially not since you’ve just mentioned that fucking name.”

I blink up at him, my heart racing. “But I?—”

“No,” he interrupts, his tone sharper now. “We can’t risk it. If there’s a mole, they can’t know you remember anything. They think you’re still… still broken. And right now, that’s our only advantage.”

I want to argue. I want to tell him that I can handle it, that I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks, but the look in his eyes stops me. There’s a raw intensity there, a fear I didn’t expect to see. He’s not just protecting me—he’s protecting something bigger, something I don’t fully understand yet.

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeats, his voice softer now, almost reassuring. “But no one else can know. Not even the girls, and not until I say so.”

I nod slowly, the weight of his words settling over me. He’s right. As much as I hate it, he’s right. If they know I’m talking, that I remember… I can’t even imagine what they’ll do to stop me.

Mihai’s grip on my shoulder loosens slightly, and he sits back in the chair, running a hand through his wild curls. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to me.

I sit down on my bed, leaning against the headboard, my knees drawn up to my chest as the reality of what I just said sinks in. I remember. And it’s not just fragments—it’s clear, likea puzzle piece that finally snapped into place. I close my eyes, the memory playing over and over in my mind.

Santiago’s voice, low and serious. The man across from him, tense but calm, his words sharp as they talked about something big. Something that could change everything. And then the gunman. The shots. The blood.

Mihai picks up his jacket from the floor, shaking it out before throwing it over his shoulder. He glances at me, and his eyes soften again, the playful glint fading into something more serious, more protective.

“I’m glad you’re talking,” he says. “But now more than ever, I need you not to say anything, okay? This is bigger than we thought, and?—”

He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he says. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me.”

“Okay,” I whisper, nodding. “I’ll trust you.”

Mihai’s lips twitch into a small, almost smile. “I’ll tell the girls to keep you company today, okay? I won’t be back until later, but I’ll text you.”

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