Page 12 of Royal Bargain (Royals of the Underworld #3)

LIAM

L ily’s still fussing when we get to the loft—not quite wailing anymore, but it’s still that tired, overwhelmed cry that cuts right through you.

Annika paces the length of the room like she’s on autopilot, murmuring soft little shushes, arms wrapped tightly around Lily like she can calm her down through sheer force of will.

“She’s probably just overtired,” she mutters. Her voice is raw. “Or overstimulated. I don’t even know anymore.”

“Here,” I say, stepping in. “Let me take her for a bit.”

She nods, slow and tired, and leans in to kiss the top of Lily’s head. I hear her whisper something—too soft to make out—then she turns away, dragging herself to the bed like her body’s run out of steam. The mattress creaks as she sinks onto it, curling up on her side, eyes still on us.

I settle into the rocking chair with Lily cradled against me. She’s quieter now—still sniffling, still a little wound up—but the worst of it seems to be passing. Her tiny fingers bunch up in the fabric of my shirt like she’s anchoring herself to me. Like she doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ve got you, a stór ,” I whisper, rocking us gently. “It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

She starts to settle, breaths coming slower. But mine don’t. Not even close.

The guilt’s crawling up my throat. I never should’ve let Annika leave without me. I knew Mac could be a problem, that he had a way of pushing boundaries. I just didn’t think he’d push those.

And that’s on me.

Goddamn it.

I shift Lily a little higher, letting her cheek rest against my shoulder. Her breaths start to even out. Meanwhile, mine do the opposite.

What if I’d been here? What if I hadn’t run to Burns when summoned like some common fucking lackey?

I should’ve been here. Protecting them.

Mac.

The name pulses like a bruise behind my eyes.

I reach for my phone, careful not to jostle Lily. My thumbs fly across the screen.

Mac crossed a line with Ana tonight. Got handsy. She handled it, but it was close.

Take care of it. Quietly.

I hesitate, then add, Don’t tell Rory or Kellan yet. I’ll handle that part.

I tuck the phone away and breathe in slowly through my nose, just as Lily sighs against my chest. It’s a tiny, peaceful sound that feels like forgiveness I don’t deserve, but I hold her close anyway.

Lily shifts again, and I gently rock the chair, watching her eyelids finally flutter shut. The loft is still now. Quiet, except for the soft hum of the white noise machine and the slow rise and fall of her tiny breaths.

My whole body aches. From the tension, the anger, the guilt—hell, even just from standing too long in the wrong shoes last night. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours has left me strung out, frayed at the edges. I don't think I’ve felt this worn thin since… I don’t even know. Maybe never.

I glance toward the bed.

Annika’s already asleep, one arm curled under her head. She looks peaceful. And I’ll be damned if I let anything take that from her again. I fall into bed beside her, my eyes shutting as I drift off almost instantly.

The next morning, I rub at my eyes as I shuffle into the kitchen, blearily reaching for the coffee grounds—except they’re not in the cabinet I always keep them in.

I frown, open the next one. Still nothing. Third cabinet—nope. What the hell?

“Where’s the coffee?” I mutter.

Annika, standing at the stove in one of my old band tees and a pair of flannel pajama shorts, looks up from stirring a pot. “Top left cabinet, next to the spices.”

“Why?”

She blinks. “Because it makes sense? The mugs are right there.”

“That’s not where the coffee goes,” I say, already opening another drawer and finding… forks? Where the hell are my spatulas?

She crosses her arms. “It was chaos in here, Liam. Nothing was grouped by function. You had canned goods next to the cleaning supplies.”

“I knew where everything was, though,” I snap. “Now I can’t find a damn thing.”

Annika sighs, tight and irritated. “I was just trying to help.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

The air goes still.

She turns away, shoulders rigid. “Right. Of course you didn’t.”

The silence stretches. My jaw is tight, her posture defensive. Neither of us is really mad about the kitchen, and we both know it. It’s the stress. The fact that someone I trusted put his hands on her. The fact that she had to defend herself again. The fact that I wasn’t here when she needed me.

And probably a dozen things she hasn’t said out loud yet.

The baby makes a little fuss from the playpen and both Ana and I get up at the same time, moving toward her.

But Ana gets there first, scooping her up as she sways Lily from side to side.

“She probably needs a change,” she says quietly.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ve got her.”

She hesitates, then lets me take Lily into my arms. The baby gurgles, fist curled against her cheek, and I let out a slow breath as she settles against my chest.

“We’re both tired,” I say after a minute, not looking at Annika. “Let’s just… not fight today.”

She nods. “Okay.”

The tension’s still there, stretched thin like an old rubber band. I don’t know how long it’s gonna hold.

Lily’s calm now, changed and fed, kicking her legs on the blanket in the middle of the floor. She’s got her eye on the little hanging toys like they personally offended her. I flop down beside her, one elbow on the floor, waving a stuffed giraffe through the air.

“And then,” I say, deep and dramatically, “the brave knight leapt over the lava moat. No sword. No armor. No idea what he was doing?—”

Lily latches onto the giraffe’s ear like she’s been planning it all day.

“Okay, yeah. He chewed a lot of things,” I nod. “It was part of his charm.”

From the couch, Annika snorts as she folds laundry. “Where do you even come up with this crap?”

I glance over at her. Her tone is light, but there’s real curiosity in her eyes. Shrugging, I chuckle. “Dunno. I’ve just always had weird little ideas bouncing around in my head. Always have.”

“Even as a kid?”

“Especially as a kid. I used to entertain Lucky with these silly bedtime stories about a hamster going on epic adventures. Once, the hamster defended the Queen of England against a shark attack.”

Annika laughs, folding a tiny pair of baby socks. “That explains so much.”

“What, that I’m a creative genius?”

“That you’re an unhinged little gremlin,” she says sweetly.

I place a hand over my heart. “Wow. Straight to the chest.”

She smirks, but then her expression softens. “You should write some of them down, you know.”

I tilt my head. “What, like… seriously?”

She nods. “Why not? They’re good. You have a way of making things feel real, even the silly stuff.”

The compliment hits me harder than I expect. I look away, watching Lily wiggle beneath her play gym.

“I’ve just never really thought about it,” I say slowly. “No one outside of Lucky ever seemed to care.”

“Well,” she says, picking up another onesie and folding it, “I care.”

Her voice is quiet. Not pitying—just sincere.

Before I can say anything else, my phone buzzes on the table nearby. I glance over and sigh when I see the name.

“Burns,” I mutter. “Give me a sec.”

Annika nods, still folding laundry as I step into the entryway to answer.

“Hey, Senator,” I say, trying not to sound annoyed at his call. I’ve been working so many hours lately that it seems like all I see is him or Ana.

“Liam, good to hear from you,” Burns says, his voice polished. “There’s a gala Saturday night—Businesswomen of Thornville is hosting. You know Miranda Voss, right? She’s the chair this year.”

I lean back a little when I hear her name, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. Miranda. Yes, I know her. She’s been a big ally to our family the past few years. She’s a sharp, classy lady. Trustworthy.

Burns continues. “She mentioned you ought to bring your partner—said it’d be a great networking opportunity for her or something. I didn’t get much into it, but yeah, if you’d like, bring her along.”

That makes sense. She’s the one who helped Ana get connected to Ingrid, so it tracks that she’d want her there.

Still… I hesitate for a second. Ana’s been through enough lately. The idea of her being out in public again—surrounded by press, strangers, donors—it makes something in my gut clench.

But I’ll be there. No one’s getting anywhere near her without going through me first. “I’ll ask her,” I say.

Walking back into the living room, I glance over to see Ana waiting for me.

“That was Burns,” I tell her. There’s a gala this weekend.

Businesswomen of Thornville is hosting. Miranda Voss is chairing it, and apparently she mentioned you—said I should bring you along.

Something about it being a good networking opportunity. ”

Ana frowns. “Miranda did?”

“Yeah. Said your name specifically. I guess it’d be a chance to make connections, if that’s something you want to do.”

She hesitates. “I don’t know. Being out like that… it makes me nervous. What if someone recognizes me? What if one of my father’s men shows up—and Lily’s not with me this time?”

I crouch down in front of her, meeting her eyes. “If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll shut it down. Fast. You’re not alone in this, Ana. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

She studies me for a long second, like she’s searching for any crack in my confidence. When she finds none, she finally exhales.

“Okay,” she says. “If Miranda thinks it’s worth showing up for… I’ll go.”

I give her a small grin. “Great. I’ll pick out a dress for you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Liam.”

“Something tasteful,” I add quickly. “You know. Like sparkles and a slit up to your hip.”

“Absolutely not,” she says, deadpan. “I’m picking my own dress.”

“Killjoy,” I mutter.

She smirks. “You’ll survive.”

The days blur together in a haze of phone calls, planning meetings, and last-minute scrambling for the gala. Burns has me running all over town to secure press invites and donor confirmations, which means I’ve been living half out of my laptop bag and leaving a trail of disaster in my wake.

Apparently, that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“This is the third time today I’ve tripped over your shoes,” Ana says, voice tight, as she scoops up a scuffed pair of boots I left near the stairs.

I glance up from my laptop on the kitchen table, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry. I’ll move them in a sec.”

Ana gives me a look and tosses the boots toward the front door, wiping down the kitchen counters. I bite my lip, frustrated since I’d already wiped those this morning.

“I know the place is a mess,” I say, trying not to sound defensive. “I’ve been swamped. You know that.”

“I’ve been trying to give you grace but dammit, Liam. I’m not your mother! Can’t you pick up after yourself? For once?” she snaps. “I’m not asking for perfection, but it feels like you don’t care how your mess affects anyone else.”

Her words sting more than I’m willing to admit. Slamming my laptop shut, I stare up at her. “So you think I’m just a slob then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You basically just did!” I shoot back. “Sorry I’m not a perfectionist like you.”

She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a perfectionist. I’m trying to keep things clean and safe for Lily, and?—”

“And I’m trying to keep things from falling apart for all of us.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. “You think you’re the only one trying to take care of Lily around here?”

We both go still. Breathing hard.

The tension stretches between us, widening the gulf between us that’s already started to fissure.

Ana turns away, snatches a burp cloth off the back of the couch and folds it with tight, careful motions as I scrub a hand through my hair, dragging in a deep breath.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Probably.”

As I move around making us something to eat, it’s obvious that there’s more that needs saying but neither of us are ready to break down whatever it is that’s got us on the edge.

Lily naps in her bassinet nearby, one tiny hand flopped over her chest like she’s exhausted from all the grown-up drama.

I wash the dishes. Ana dries. Neither of us talks about the argument. Neither of us apologizes. But the air between us feels… thinner. Like a sheet pulled too tight.

I’m just reaching to put away the last plate when there’s a knock at the door.

We both freeze.

Ana’s eyes dart toward Lily, then to me.

I nod and wipe my hands on a towel, walking toward the door. I peek through the peephole, then immediately unlock it and swing it open.

Aleksey stands on the other side, sharp as ever in a dark coat, his expression unreadable. I frown, narrowing my eyes at him.

“What do you want?” I ask, furious he’s just waltzed over here like it was nothing.

“I need to talk to Annika,” he says.

Then his gaze shifts past me, to where Ana is standing behind me, a burp cloth over her shoulder, while she holds a mug of tea in one hand.

His voice softens, but not by much. “It’s important information, Annushka.”

Ana and I glance at each other, our eyes meeting. In that split second, we both feel that creeping dread low in the gut, the unspoken question we don’t want to ask out loud.

What now?