Page 22 of Conall's Reign

Conall must have had a reason to confide in me now. He always struck me as someone who kept his secrets, so I was surprised by how forthcoming he was.

“No. He wasn’t. He was a slob, a drunk.” Conall’s eyes met mine before continuing. “A wife beater. Beat my mother to death.”

My breath caught as my heart ached for him. “How old were you?” I managed to ask.

“Seventeen. I shouldn’t have been surprised when it happened. He was rotten to the core, showing no respect for women or children, for that matter. He traded them as if they were less than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.” Conall rubbed the back of his neck, appearing uncomfortable with the information he shared, but I couldn’t blame him.

“You killed him?” I asked, curious if he would respond.

The moment we discovered the contract at the club all those years ago, I experienced a true epiphany. I had been naive until that point. My mother hadn’t made my early years easy; she was quite difficult, but my brothers more than compensated for it. My life hadn’t been hard, and certainly nothing like what Conall described. I was raised with as much love as Angelo and Remo could give me — which was considerable.

However, I realized how naive I had been when I looked at that contract. I had not followed a logical line of reasoning. Clearly, they claimed their father’s positions in their organizations using the most traditional method available: they had killed them. On the night of my eighteenth birthday, I was appalled, but since I had committed my own murder, I had become more forgiving.

“Yes. I found my mother’s body lying there.” He spoke evenly, yet a storm raged in his eyes. Muscles tensed in his neck and jaw, as if he seethed at the memory. “I could say it was a crime of passion, but that would be a lie. It would have happened anyway. It should have happened sooner so she didn’t die.” His hands flexed.

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could offer. I wasn’t sure what I was sorry for: the fact that his mother had died, that he had to be in that situation, or that he had killed his father. I was sorry for all of it.

“I just wanted you to understand.” He watched me for a full minute, assessing whether I truly understood.

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. Did I really understand him? Did I comprehend the reason he killed his father? Still, I kept my questions to myself. I did understand that his father needed to die. The man sounded like garbage.

“I need you to understand who you are marrying. I don’t want there to be any secrets,” he stated.

I reeled back. “Marrying?” I echoed. What on earth was he talking about? I looked at his face for any signs of deceit or indications that he’d lost his mind, but he seemed completely calm — eerily so.

“That’s right. Today.” His jaw flexed again. “The blood oath is inescapable. You may not want to be a wife, but you will be. It’s not negotiable, especially with all this upheaval that Vallone is causing. It’s dangerous for all of us. You’ll be better protected this way. You’ll be both a Santelli and an O’Kelly. That’s why I needed you to understand the oath.” He looked away for a moment, rubbing his neck again and grinding his teeth.

He was completely serious. Although I wanted to challenge his logic about everything, I couldn’t. I was a Santelli, but I would be safer as an O’Kelly. The mafia, the mob, and the bratvas all operated under similar umbrellas. Names held power. Two? Well, two is more than one.

Getting up, I walked to the window to gaze over the city while I wrestled with the idea. A blood oath wasn’t something you could shimmy out of. Theo and I had already discussed that. We’d tried to research it as thoroughly as possible (as thoroughly as you could research things like that).

I glanced at my nails, feigning indifference, even though my stomach pitched. There wasn’t much choice here. I understood that as well as he did, but I couldn’t help hating him a little.

After a few minutes of silence, I said, “Fine, I’ll marry you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

conall

I watchedFrancesca standing by the window in my apartment. The evening light draped over her, giving her an untouchable quality. When she turned to face me, her eyes were sharp and unwavering.

Her neck was already bruised, the marks standing out against her skin, and it still made me furious that someone had harmed her. I was completely irrational, pushing her now when she should be resting, but I couldn’t control myself in this rare moment. The words had spilled out before I could contain them.

"Fine," she said, her voice steady yet firm. “I will marry you."

It was the last thing I expected her to say. I had prepared myself for a fight, for tears, or for her to storm out and slam the door behind her. Threats or shouting- anything but this. None of those reactions would have benefited her at all, but capitulation? She surprised me.

I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair as I studied her. “Fine? Is that all?”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, yet it lacked warmth. "Yes, but I have conditions. If this is going to happen, I want my own contract."

Her own contract. Of course. She wouldn’t allow me to take the upper hand without a fight. I had nearly forgotten how clever she was. Francesca wouldn’t go down easily, but in the end, she’d be my wife, I thought with satisfaction, watching her squirm in her boxy hospital scrubs. At Cora and Maxim’s wedding, she had worn a stunning gown with a slit almost up to her hip. I’d spent all night trying to keep myself from hauling her against the wall and having my way with her.

"What do you want in this contract?” I asked, maintaining a steady tone.

“I’ll keep my job. I won’t give up nursing just because you’ve chosen to fulfill some ancient blood oath.” She took a deep breath when I remained silent. “No children.Ever.That’s non-negotiable."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her boldness. She had said she didn’t want to be a wife, but no children? Ever? That seemed extreme. She would make a fantastic mother. I had told the others I needed an heir, but that wasn’t true. I wouldn’t force the issue if Francesca didn’t want children. Paddy or Brody could take over for me when necessary. I realized she didn’t know me well, but I would never make her give up her career. It wasn’t uncommon for a woman to be ‘encouraged’ to stay at home in organized crime families, but I wouldn’t be part of that trend. She had worked hard to become a nurse, and I wouldn’t diminish her accomplishments.

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