Page 6 of Royal Beast (Royals of the Underworld #1)

KELLAN

I sit at my desk, pretending to focus on the contracts in front of me while Lucky explains some legal jargon about the casino deal, my mind a million miles away.

I can’t stop thinking about last night with Darcy. Her scent still lingers on me. I chased her relentlessly, only for her to shut me down. After that, I swore to keep my distance.

Yet here I am, pulled back in again, drawn to her.

I can’t let that happen again. I need to focus.

My brothers are relying on me to keep everything together. But thinking about the way she looked at me last night makes my pulse race, dragging me away from the work in front of me. She’s a distraction I can’t afford, not right now.

Lucky clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. Yesterday’s bourbon still lingers in the warm air, and I suddenly realize how stifling my office feels as I shift in my chair, trying to ease the tension.

I glance up and meet Lucky’s gaze, taking in the sight of my youngest brother, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set tight. He’s giving me a pointed look, his patience clearly worn thin. “Are you listening to me?” he demands, his voice sharp, cutting straight through the haze of my mind.

I clench my fists under the desk, my own jaw tightening as I resist the urge to snap back at him.

He’s unaware of the weight of everything I’m holding in—Darcy, this deal, the way things are spiraling.

It all simmers just below the surface. I’m not in the mood to deal with his attitude so I simply shrug, brushing it off.

“I’m listening,” I say, my voice tight.

“No, you aren’t,” Lucky retorts, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you and Rory go after the Russians without consulting us first?”

The room feels smaller by the second. The blinds cast long, jagged shadows across the floor, slashing through the otherwise sterile atmosphere.

His presence, usually a source of calm, now grates on my nerves.

Of all of us Brannagan kids, Lucky has always been the most level-headed, but there’s something off about him today, a frustration that seems to have been building for a long time.

I’ve seen it coming for a while now. Lucky’s been angling for more responsibility, more control, begging for bigger assignments and looking to gain more of a leadership role. He’s been itching for this fight, and I’ve been letting him push just enough. That is, until now.

“We needed to send a message,” I tell him, my voice stern as I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. I narrow my eyes, locking onto his.

“We had to remind them who they’re dealing with.

If we waited, it would have made us look weak.

” The words feel like they should carry weight, but I know Lucky isn’t buying it.

His expression tightens, the frustration building in the clench of his jaw.

“Bullshit. You and Rory always act like the rest of us don’t matter when it comes to making big decisions like this.

You treat us like we’re just your foot soldiers, but me and Liam, even Alannah, we’re just as much a part of this as you two! ”

I tighten my arms across my chest and take a deep breath, forcing my frustration down.

“We’ve always handled things this way,” I calmly respond, brushing his words aside.

Lucky’s always been eager to prove himself, eager to show that he’s capable, but he doesn’t get it.

He’s the youngest brother so he can’t always see the bigger picture.

Lucky shakes his head, hands balling into fists. “This was a mistake,” he snaps. “Going after them so hard was a terrible idea. It’s not going to stop them. If anything, it’ll just make them retaliate worse.”

I turn my head, refusing to engage, tapping my foot on the floor as I try to think of a way to explain this to him without being condescending.

For a few moments, the soft tick of the wall clock is the only noise in the room until Lucky steps closer, circling the desk and getting right into my space.

His breath is quick, his eyes hard with anger. “Listen to me, Kellan!” His voice rises, more desperate now. “We can’t keep fuckin’ escalating! If we aren’t careful, we’re going to end up in a war we don’t want!”

I stand and push him back, keeping my voice low. “It’s already done. You don’t need to question us, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid!” Lucky yells, stepping forward, fists clenched, but before he can lash out, Rory strides into the doorway, sensing the tension.

“What’s going on in here?” Rory asks, leaning casually against the doorframe, though his eyes quickly zone in on us.

Lucky’s face twists with anger. “I’m sick of you two making reckless, irresponsible choices without consulting the rest of us!”

Rory’s laid-back demeanor vanishes, and he stands up straight, posture rigid. “I think you forget, dear brother, that I’m in charge here. If I want to make a decision, I don’t need your permission. Now back off before I send you to babysit Alannah.”

Lucky glares at both of us but knows better than to push further. He throws his hands up in exasperation and storms off.

As the door slams, Rory turns to me, raising a brow. “So, what’s your deal? What’s got you so worked up?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Sorry,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “I was just being a dick.”

“That’s usually true, but it doesn’t answer my question. Why were you fighting with Lucky?”

I groan. “It’s… there’s a lot happening. I talked to Darcy yesterday. We went to dinner.”

Rory cocks an eyebrow. “And?”

I hesitate before admitting, “And we may have slept together.”

I wince, waiting for the inevitable lecture.

Rory sighs as he rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck. I told you this was a bad idea, didn’t I? You’re getting in over your head. You’re gonna lose sight of things if you keep thinking with your dick, Bro.”

Something inside me snaps. I’m tired of being told that I don’t know what I’m doing, tired of people questioning my every decision. Squaring my shoulders and setting my jaw, I turn toward my desk and face away from Rory, my pulse racing.

“You know what?” I begin, my voice cold, “I don’t have to take this. I’ll prove to you that I can handle it.”

Rory stares at me for a moment before leaving without another word.

As I walk over to make myself an afternoon cup of coffee, a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” I call, sinking back into my chair. I smooth down the tie I’m forced to wear and wait, expecting some routine interruption.

But when the door swings open, I freeze. Darcy steps inside, her movements stiff, lips set in a tight line. "I’m here," she says, her voice edged with resignation.

I gesture toward the leather wingback chair opposite me, eyes flicking over her.

Darcy is sharply dressed, wearing a form-fitting black top and a sleek pencil skirt that clings to every curve, a trench coat draped over her shoulders.

She’s wearing dark red lipstick, her hair pulled back smartly into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She looks like she’s ready to fight, tension in her jaw as her fingers twitch against the arms of the chair.

“Welcome,” I say, keeping my tone professional.

“I got your text.” Darcy’s voice is clipped as she runs a hand through her hair. I catch the slight tremor in her hands, though she hides it well. Her tone might be firm, but I can see the way her body trembles as she sits down. A part of me almost admires her tenacity. Almost.

“Do you have a decision for me, then?” I ask as I lean forward, steepling my fingers under my chin as I study her.

She looks down for a moment, then takes a deep breath before her eyes meet mine, a fierce look in her eyes.

“I have,” she says, jutting her chin upward.

“I’m not ashamed to say it. I need your help, Kellan.

I’m willing to negotiate a marriage with you, but I want to know all the terms before I agree. ”

Something unwinds inside me and I feel some of the tension melt away as I pull out a contract our lawyer had put together this morning. I push it toward her. “The terms are listed in here,” I say. “All of it is spelled out for you. Once you’ve signed it, we’ll go to the courthouse.”

Darcy bites her lip and picks it up, thumbing through the paperwork. “You’re sure that everything is laid out in here?” she asks.

I nod. “Everything. The terms are straightforward. You agree to marry me, and in exchange, I’ll assume responsibility for all of your family’s debts, past and future, along with a few other minor stipulations.”

She narrows her eyes at me in suspicion.

“What’s this?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

I blink, momentarily distracted by how unexpectedly adorable I find the gesture, and then realize she’s pointing to one of the stipulations.

“It says, ‘ Party of the second part agrees to marital relations a minimum of three times a week .’”

I grin. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I seem to remember you begging me to fuck you last night,” I remind her, my voice low. Darcy frowns, but her cheeks flush pink, and she quickly ducks her head, mumbling something I can’t quite catch.

“What was that?” I ask, leaning forward, my grin widening.

“I said we’ll see,” she replies, her gaze hardening with defiance. “I’m not your sex toy to play with and discard when you get bored. If you want me to be your wife, I have a condition of my own. You won’t be seeing anyone else on the side.”

I suppress the urge to tell her I haven’t been with anyone else in a while. Instead, I stroke my chin, pretending to mull it over. “Fine. I’ll agree to that,” I say, letting her feel like she’s won this round. “Any other terms or conditions?”

“My daughter,” Darcy says quickly. “She’s my child. I’m the only one who gets to decide how she’s parented. I get the final say in any major decisions when it comes to her.”

“Your daughter will be safe under my protection,” I inform her, smoothing over her worries. “You get to parent her as you see fit, but I reserve the right to make any necessary decisions to ensure she’s fully protected.”

Darcy flips through the document, eyes scanning, fingers tensing on the edges of the pages. She’s stalling, considering the weight of this decision. Her chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths like she’s trying to rein in the gravity of what’s about to happen.

As I watch her review the pages, I stay silent, giving her time to process. My patience is starting to wear thin. I want Darcy to understand that this isn’t just business for me. It’s personal. There’s a part of me that craves having her close again, though I won’t say it out loud.

We have unfinished business between us.

She closes the folder and tosses it on the desk. It lands with a light thud. When her gaze meets mine, the tension in the room thickens. “This is a lot, Kellan,” she says, her voice quieter, the bravado slipping just a bit. “It’s not just about the money, is it?”

I smile, slow and deliberate, as I lean back in my chair. “No, Darcy, it isn’t. This is about loyalty. You know the rules. Once you’re my wife, you’re protected for life. The Brannagan family protects their own.”

She doesn’t flinch, but I can see the battle waging behind her eyes. She’s weighing her options, though she has none. Her father’s financial situation is beyond repair. Marrying me is the only way out and she knows it.

Finally, she nods, her chin dipping just slightly in resignation. “Fine,” she whispers, “but I want something else in return.”

I raise an eyebrow, curious. “And what would that be?”