Page 28 of Conall's Reign

“I don’t have my things here,” I said with annoyance. “Not even a toothbrush.”

“I’ll get you one. There are extras under the sink. I change mine every two weeks, but I’ll have your items ready in the morning.”

Every two weeks? I tried not to roll my eyes. He probably had a calendar reminder on his phone.

The bed was enormous, the largest I had ever seen, even bigger than a king. I could easily get lost in it, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I enjoyed having my space, especially if I had to share it. He showed me the bathroom — a double vanity setup with marble countertops and wood accents that complemented the original hardwood. In these rooms, a few walls of exposed brick remained, which I adored. If only it had some plants, I would be perfectly content.

“I need a t-shirt to sleep in.”

“Hmm,” Conall murmured indifferently beside me, brushing his teeth for what must have been exactly two minutes.

“Are you timing yourself?” I asked out of curiosity while watching him in the mirror, attempting to overcome the awkwardness of standing beside him in the bathroom.

He spat and swished. I found the act oddly intimate, brushing our teeth together. I reminded myself that he hadn’t answered me about the shirt.

“Yes. Maintaining oral hygiene is important. You wouldn’t want a husband with rotten teeth, would you?” He rinsed his toothbrush diligently and placed it exactly on the sink. “You will find what you need in the closet.”

M-kay. I didn’t know how to respond to that, but I dashed to the closet door as his fingers began methodically moving down the buttons of his shirt. Like the rest of the place, it exuded opulence, with dressers lining the center and his and her areas reminiscent of my brother Angelo’s house. What confused me were the women’s clothes that hung in neat rows and were stacked on the shelves: buttery leather boots, winter jackets, heels, and sneakers. Whose clothes were these? Red suffused my cheeks. Did he have women here? I opened the drawers on that side; sure enough, they were filled with t-shirts, leggings, underwear, and lingerie.

Spinning around in anger, I was prepared to give Conall a piece of my mind, but he was standing in the doorway. “Going somewhere? You seem a bit heated.”

“Whose clothes are these?” I snapped. Being married was one thing, but I wasn’t going to share him with some whore. “If you think …”

“I’ll stop you right there.” His jaw firmed, and his mouth thinned in what I had learned today was Conall’s irritated look. “They’re yours. I bought them for you,” he clarified.

He stalked away, leaving me reeling with the knowledge that he must have had time to plan this if he had clothes here. Fuming, I returned to the clothing racks, ran my fingers over the outfits still in their protective sleeves, and unzipped the bags to discover designer gowns. I kicked a shoe out of the way. The jerk had me get married in scrubs, and he’d had a whole closet of clothes back here.

What was his actual problem? Why would he do that? I could have changed hours ago.

Grabbing the simplest nightgown from one of the drawers and a robe, I changed and slipped out of the dressing room back to the master bedroom. The lights had already been turned off, but I could see Conall still propped up on the pillows, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows. I hoped he had blinds because there was no way I could sleep with all the city lights shining in like that.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

conall

Francesca hoveredat the edge of the bed, appearing to battle with herself before getting beneath the covers. I wondered whether I should say something. Then, suddenly, she gave in, darted under the duvet, and pulled it up to her chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you had clothes for me? I could have changed.”

Anger suffused every line of her body. She practically vibrated with it, which was precisely why I hadn’t told her earlier. I didn’t want to argue with her about something else or explain why I had them. My plans for Francesca hadn’t just sprung up quickly. They had been developed over time, during which I’d considered her need for clothes. Just as I considered everything.

“I’ve known for some time that we’d be paired. Ever since Maxim and Cora got married, I’ve been busy, but not so busy that I haven’t made some arrangements.” She looked beautiful in my bed, even when she was angry. I could see her processing the information I’d shared with her. I had already envisioned how she would react—how she would look beneath my sheets. This moment had played out in my head with obsessive precision, down to how she curled her fingers into the blanket.

“I didn’t mention I had clothes because I didn’t want to argue about one more thing. We were already outlining our contract items, and it felt like we had enough on our plate without discussing why I had a closet full of clothes.”

“Fine. Do you have blinds?” she grumbled, pulling the blankets higher.

“Yes, I will close them shortly.”

I didn’t want to tell her that I wanted the luxury of seeing her while I fucked her. She would find out soon enough. She could hide under the covers for a few more minutes. Moreover, the blinds were on timers. My life ran like a well-oiled machine. My morning routine, the way I organized my closet by color and function, the precise way I stacked documents on my desk—all of it controlled, perfected. Even my security system was checked three times a night. Admittedly, introducing a wild card like Francesca into the mix would be challenging, but I could handle it.

“What about a charger for my cell?”

I rolled onto my side to face her. “There’s one on your side of the bed. I put it there myself.” I could hear her small, annoyed huff. She was probably rolling her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

I had chosen it specifically for her—black, sleek, a model I knew was compatible with her phone. Francesca wasn’t just a fleeting thought. I had made arrangements and ensured everything in this space would accommodate her seamlessly, whether she acknowledged it or not.

“God, you’re annoying,” she said instead. I watched her reach for the charger, fumbling as she connected her phone.

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