Page 20 of Conall's Reign

My hands itched to check my watch, to tap the dashboard, to do something to relieve the unbearable tension building inside me. But I kept them still, gripping the wheel, counting my breaths to avoid spiraling. One, two, three, four. Exhale. One, two, three, four.

“I know you like to control things, but that’s not how life works. You can’t control everything,” Francesca said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence.

I blinked, startled by the softness in her tone. “I’m not trying to controleverything,” I insisted. My family would deny that statement.

She let out a faint, humorless laugh. “Aren’t you?”

Her words hit harder than they should have, perhaps because they weren’t entirely wrong. I had spent my life trying to keep things in order and make sense of the chaos around me. Francesca… she was the one thing I couldn’t neatly fit into any box. She was unpredictable, maddening, and completely irresistible. Now she was hurt, and it felt like the world was tilting off its axis.

I didn’t respond to her. Instead, I drove into the back bay of the building, allowing my men to secure the large reinforced steel doors behind us in the expansive space. We had learned our lesson about parking out in the open. Here, we were shielded by reinforced steel and additional personnel.

I turned off the engine and stepped out before she could say anything else. I opened her door quickly, as she was already glaring at me, but she didn’t argue when I helped her out of the car.

“You can’t keep me here forever. I need to go back to my apartment,” she said as I led her inside, enjoying the sensation of my hand gently resting on the small of her back.

I glanced at her, my jaw tensed. “We’ll talk upstairs.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press the issue. Maybe she was just too tired, or perhaps she realized it wouldn’t change anything. Either way, I was grateful for the moment of relief, no matter how fleeting it might be. I felt like a jerk for making her come here instead of taking her back to her apartment where she could unwind, but her apartment wasn’t safe. Anyone could reach her there.

I would have to tell her the truth about the blood oath, the marriage, and everything our fathers had planned for us.

I had no idea how she would ever forgive me for it.

CHAPTER TEN

francesca

I steppedout of the sleek black car and into a secure, dimly lit back bay of Conall’s building on Vinegar Hill. The last time I had been here, I hadn’t even noticed this entrance—I had been too panicked and consumed by fear after Angelo called me. Now, I observed the heavy steel doors and the armed guards stationed at strategic points, their gazes sharp and unwavering. The precaution didn’t surprise me. Conall had been shot recently after a Vanello hit squad targeted Maxim and his sister as they were heading to their car out front, and clearly, he wasn’t taking any chances now.

We walked through a narrow corridor, the soft hum of security systems filling the air. The atmosphere was stark and utilitarian, sharply contrasting with the luxury I knew awaited above. The entire building had been remodeled at what I assumed was a tremendous expense. My brother was wealthy, but Conall O’Kelly operated on another level, and each step reflected that. He led the way, his strides confident yet tense. He nodded to the guards as we passed, but his jaw was clenched, and his shoulders were taut. The reason he’d brought me here clearly weighed on him, or he was worried that I might try to escape, which seemed unlikely. Where would I go?

The elevator ride to his apartment felt endless, reminding me once again of my fear of enclosed spaces. I leaned further into the warmth of Conall’s body, taking refuge in his strength. He startled at my movement but thankfully remained quiet. Though he wasn’t one to fidget, I caught him drumming his fingers against his thigh — a small tell that made my chest tighten. I would have preferred to go home, pour myself some wine, slip into yoga pants, and curl up in bed rather than traipsing across town. I sighed and wondered when it would be acceptable to call Theo or my brother for a ride—or an Uber.

“You’ve done a lot with this place,” I said, breaking the heavy silence.

He glanced at me, a fleeting smile crossing his lips. “It needed an update. I didn’t want it to feel like a museum. My sister mentioned it felt cold.”

“It’s nice,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Very… you.”

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the penthouse. I stepped inside and felt my breath catch in my throat. I had never been in this space before. The area featured clean lines throughout, and the muted color palette of whites and grays was accented by deep greens. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city lights, while sleek furniture furnished the open-concept living room.

Typical Conall. Truly gorgeous, even if it was a bit stark.

He led me to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine without asking for my preference, and poured me a glass. I accepted it, though it irritated me that he didn’t ask. There was no reason to argue when it was clear he’d done his research. It was one of my favorites. I sipped, even though the crisp wine did little to calm my nerves.

Conall leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the glass in my hand. He absentmindedly peeled the wine label, his jaw tense. I had known Conall for years and had seen him in a lot of situations. But this? This quiet tension was something new. It unnerved me. I wasn’t sure why he had brought me here. This was private, and I had to resist staring too hard at him, indulging in the rugged beauty of something I couldn’t want. Shouldn’t want.

There were many reasons Conall O’Kelly was off-limits. I’d admit that I’d always had a bit of a crush on him, and I’d even acknowledged that Theo and I had a few panicked discussions after Maxim married Cora O’Kelly. The marriage meant the blood oath was progressing, but Angelo hadn’t mentioned anything about it yet, and we wouldn’t bring it up. Ilias hadn’t spoken to Theo either. We both agreed not to stir up any trouble.

“Why didn’t you just take me home?” I asked, breaking the silence. “I could have called Theo or my brother.” Theo would have been my first choice. “If the hospital wanted me to go home to relax, that’s where I should be.” I gave him a pointed look. There was nothing wrong with me other than being a little freaked out and experiencing some minor soreness from where that jerk had grabbed and squeezed me. I would definitely survive. Maybe a little wine and chocolate. A bath.

He looked up, startled as if he had forgotten I was there. “I thought we’d be more comfortable here—fewer interruptions.

Interruptions? Comfortable? I looked around the pristine space, the air almost too still. This wasn’t my definition of comfort. If anything, I felt exhausted and drained from the experience at the hospital. The last thing I needed was another tense emotional situation, trying to decipher what he wanted. His jaw was tight, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something.

“Did you have something you wanted to talk about? Is that why you brought me here? Conall, say what you need to say,” I urged, the tension in my chest becoming unbearable.

Instead, he averted my gaze. “Would you like something to eat? Or perhaps some tea?”

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