Page 66 of Reckless Royalty

The image of a young Mihai trying to drive, only to end up in a hedge, has me laughing despite myself. It’s a real laugh, one that feels so foreign yet so natural. “So, I take it you two didn’t get away with it?”

“Oh, no,” he says, smirking. “Our dad had us help fix the garden as ‘punishment,’ but honestly, he was just relieved we didn’t end up totaling the car. Marina just stood there the whole time, supervising, telling me what I’d done wrong, as if she hadn’t been the one cheering me on.”

I laugh again, and it feels good, even if only for a little while. I look at him, finding myself drawn to the way he’s watching me, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes focused on mine. There’s awarmth there, something that feels personal, intimate, like he’s seeing all the way through me.

His gaze lingers, dropping to my lips before meeting my eyes again, and I feel my heart beat a little faster.

Without thinking, my hand drifts forward, my fingers tracing lightly over a tattoo on his chest—a burning rose, the edges of the petals blending into flames that curl toward his collarbone. The ink is beautiful and intricate, and I can feel the beat of his heart beneath my touch.

“What’s this one for?” I ask softly, looking up at him.

He glances down at the tattoo, his hand coming up to cover mine gently. “That one… it’s for my mother. Her name was Rosalie, and, well…” He pauses, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “The flames are in memory of her spirit.”

I trace the lines with my fingertips, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Rosalie,” I murmur, letting the name linger. “It’s beautiful.”

“So was she,” he says quietly, his gaze dropping to where my fingers are still resting against his skin. “She was… fierce, kind, everything good in this world.” There’s a pause, and I can see the weight of that memory flicker across his expression. “She passed a while back, but the name and the fire felt right. It’s a reminder of who she was.”

I look up, meeting his gaze, and I can see the depth of that loss in his eyes, the way he’s carrying it with him, just as I carry my own. It makes me feel closer to him somehow, like we’re connected in this strange, quiet way that doesn’t need words. I give his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

He nods, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand as he studies me, his gaze soft yet intense. “I don’t talk about her much. But… I wanted you to know.”

We sit there in silence for a moment, the world outside fading, leaving just the two of us in this small, quiet space. His hand is warm over mine, grounding, and I find myself leaning into that warmth, feeling a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long time.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low. “You know, Maddy…Going through what you have, and still being here, still finding ways to laugh… that’s strength.”

I look at him, feeling so much gratitude that my heart aches. He’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel seen and understood, and I can feel a part of me beginning to heal just from the way he’s sitting here, steady and real, letting me in.

“Thank you,” I say softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. It feels like a beginning, like a step toward something new, something that might just make all the difference.

MIHAI

The room is pitch-black except for a sliver of moonlight slicing through the blinds, just enough to cast faint shadows across the bed. Maddy is lying with her back turned toward me, and every nerve in my body is on edge.

I can hear the soft, steady sound of her breathing, feel the warmth radiating from her side of the bed. My mind’s a mess. Every instinct is screaming at me to close this maddening distance and just take what I want.

But I keep reminding myself that she’s here for safety and protection. I can’t let this go somewhere it shouldn’t. I promised myself I wouldn’t.

But damn, it’s hard.

And fuck, so am I.

I’m supposed to be the king of control. I’ve built myself on that. I’ve survived insane situations, kept my cool when everything around me was falling apart, but this… just lying next to her… is testing every shred of discipline I’ve got left.

I close my eyes, trying to breathe deeply, to ground myself. Her scent isn’t helping. Strawberries. Of course, it’s fucking strawberries. Sweet, fresh, and damn near intoxicating. It’s clinging to her hair, and it’s all I can smell. I try not to thinkabout how soft her hair is, how it would feel to run my fingers through it again.

Stop. Just fucking stop.She’s lying right next to you. And if you’re not careful, you’ll ruin whatever trust she’s finally given you.

She’s been through hell, and I’m over here thinking about… shit, I can’t even admit it to myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, trying to tune out the feel of her warmth, the way her scent fills the space between us, pulling me closer in a way I haven’t felt before.

Then I feel the bed shift slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her turning onto her back with her face tilted up toward the ceiling.

Now it’s even worse than before. Which God did I piss off in my past life?

I’m trying hard not to look, not to let my gaze drift over her, but it’s impossible. She’s right there, her hair spread out on the pillow, her skin catching the faint glow from the moonlight through the blinds.

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