Page 19 of Conall's Reign

I bristled, alarmed. “You don’t get to decide that, Conall. I’m not running away from my job because of some random incident.” That’s what I needed to convince him of: that it was just a random altercation.

His gaze flicked to me, sharp and unyielding. “It’s not running. It’s about being smart. You don’t think this was about you, do you?” He gave me a look that seemed to peer into my soul, trying to ferret out my secrets. “This could be about the family.”

The question wasn’t judgemental but genuine. The problem with it was that I knew the answer. He was wrong, but I couldn’t tell him that. This wasn’t aboutfamiglia. It was about the secrets Theo and I had buried, about the choices I’d made that night. Telling Conall would only drag him into the storm, and I couldn’t let that happen. He’d do something crazy like go half-cocked and attack Cosimo.

“No, I don’t think it’s about me,” I replied softly, wishing to divert him from probing further. “But I worked hard for my life as a nurse. I’m not going to give up because of a minor incident. It was nothing.”

Conall’s jaw set, his expression dark. “It wasn’tnothing.”

CHAPTER NINE

conall

The car was too silent,except for the hum of the engine and the soft sound of Francesca’s breathing beside me. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white against the black leather. Her face was turned away, but I caught glimpses of the bruises along her throat and in the reflection of the window. My stomach twisted at the sight, a heavy ache settling low like a stone. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else just yet—the words felt lodged in my throat, stuck behind the fury still simmering within me.

She was petite, especially in the boxy scrubs she wore to work, which made her figure disappear underneath them. Most women I knew tried to emphasize their assets, but not her; it felt as though she aimed to vanish. The scrubs were a size too large for her, and she layered a long-sleeved thermal underneath.

Francesca’s silence unnerved me. She was never this quiet. She usually filled the space around her with pointed observations, teasing remarks, or simply… her presence. Now, she sat rigidly, her fingers tracing the edge of her badge, snapping it forward and letting it recoil. I wanted to rip it off, to make some small part of this day disappear. But I didn’t. I kept both hands on the wheel at ten and two, even though the urge to reach out and touch her was nearly unbearable.

I couldn’t stop replaying the moment I found out she was hurt. It felt like a switch had flipped in me—everything else went dark. All I knew was that I had to get to her, had to make sure she was okay, had to find whoever was responsible and make them regret ever breathing. The rage was still there, simmering just below the surface, but now it was tangled with something else. I should have called Angelo to notify him, but I stormed out of my building without considering it or putting on my suit jacket.

When she started working at the hospital, I discovered a loophole in the network. If her badge was flagged for any reason, I was called immediately. Was it entirely legal? No, but that never stopped me. Angelo would have had a fit, and I couldn’t exactly explain to him this strange need I had regarding his sister.

Ever since that damn birthday party of hers, she had barely been legal, but she sat over there with her friends, laughing and giggling, her mouth bending to whisper into Theodosia Anthakos’s ear. I was captivated and ashamed all at once. Then they snuck off and stole Angelo’s car. He had been pissed as hell, but I thought it was hilarious.

Francesca shifted in her seat, finally breaking the silence. “You don’t have to drive me home, Conall. I’ll be fine.” Her voice was soft and cautious as if she didn’t want to provoke me. It only made me grip the wheel tighter.

I practiced my breathing: four counts in, hold, and three counts out.

“You aren’t going home,” I said, my voice cutting.

I caught her glance at me from the corner of my eye. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard, trying to rein in my anger. “You’re coming to my place. It’s safer there.”

She’d only been to my Vinegar Hill location once, and that was recently when I’d been shot. Angelo had brought her to assist the doctor. It wasn’t ideal circumstances for her to be introduced to what would be her home, but it was what it was.

I remodeled the entire building using the finest materials available. When I went on the run with my siblings, I didn’t have a pot to piss in. I swore I’d build back better — stronger than ever. I’d done that. The building was state-of-the-art, featuring reinforced steel and bulletproof glass. The technology was top-of-the-line, and I had made provisions for the soldiers in my crew while keeping private apartments for myself. I took pride in it and in the men I called my own.

“Conall,” she began, and I could already sense the protest building in her voice. “I’m not?—”

“You were attacked, Francesca,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to. Her flinch made my chest tighten, but I couldn’t stop. “Some arsewipe put their hands on you, and you think I’m just going to drop you off at your apartment like nothing happened? Not a chance.”

That wasn’t going to happen for so many reasons. What if it was about the Santellis? They could come after her again. She should have had protection during her shift at the hospital. Angelo and Remo were fools to have caved to her demands to be left without a detail. I struggled to control myself.

Initially, I had convinced myself that I was fond of her. Then, I rationalized my actions as protective and reasonable, given that she was a prospective spouse. I brought her treats she liked, checked in on her at school — often enough to avoid being obtrusive — and didn’t initiate conversation. Now, I realized that the feelings churning in my chest went beyond that.

Her lips formed a thin line as she averted her gaze once more, her posture rigid. “It’s not up to you.”

I exhaled through my nose, trying to rein in the frustration clawing at me. “You can be mad at me later if you want. Right now, I need to know you’re safe. You’ll be safe with me.

The words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the window, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. I focused back on the road, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. She would find out soon enough that it was very much up to me. Francesca Santelli was going to be my wife, and she was going to be my wife within the next twenty-four hours.

I was finished waiting.

The truth was that I didn’t trust myself to let her out of my sight — not after this. The thought of her being alone and vulnerable made my skin crawl. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t know how to explain it. Hell, I didn’t understand it myself. I just knew that the idea of her being hurt again was unbearable, and that scared me more than anything.

I hadn’t thought it through yet, but now there was only one answer for me: to put her somewhere safe, where no one could lay hands on her, a place I controlled.

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