Page 33 of Conall's Reign

Those fingers reached out and brushed my cheek, burning me.

“Cards,” I replied. “They look like credit cards.”

“This one is the bank card for our joint account. This one is an unlimited credit card.” He held each one up in turn. I could now see that they were issued to Francesca & Conall O’Kelly. “This is your bank card for your account, but I’d prefer you to use ours.”

“Hmm,” I murmured noncommittally, picking up the cards while deliberately sifting through the papers and then leaving them on the counter. As expected, he re-stacked them. I wasn’t sure I cared about his preferences.

“I thought we might take a tour of the building this morning,” he said casually as if it were any other morning between a husband and wife. “You should get familiar with your new home.”

“A tour?” I asked, raising an eyebrow

He nodded. “The building is secure, but there are many areas to explore: offices, meeting rooms, and the gym.”

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I said, my voice sharper than I’d intended.

Conall’s expression hardened slightly, but he kept an even tone. “No, Francesca, you don’t. But I promise you’ll feel more comfortable once you’ve seen everything.”

Comfortable. Right.

He pushed away from the counter and gestured toward the door. “Come on. We’ll start upstairs.”

I followed him reluctantly, clutching my coffee cup like a shield. Conall guided me through the building, his voice calm and steady as he explained each space: the private gym outfitted with state-of-the-art equipment and the offices where he conducted “business.”

As we descended to the main floor, I hesitated. “Conall,” I said, pausing in the hallway.

He turned, one eyebrow raised. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath, a sour taste lingering in my mouth. My brother was going to be so angry. “I need to tell Angelo. About us. About this.”

His expression stayed the same. “I texted him this morning.”

“He’smybrother,” I stated firmly. Ugh. He made me so mad. I should have been the one to let Angelo know. “And he won’t simply accept this without an explanation from me.” I swallowed hard. “We didn’t even get married in a church.”

It was foolish. Even though we weren’t exactly practicing Catholics anymore, I felt kind of ashamed of how the ceremony unfolded. Did my brother even voice an objection? That — more than anything — made me irrationally upset. I wanted to know what Angelo said to Conall. Had he been furious? Or had he not cared?

Conall stepped closer, his presence overwhelming my senses. “He understands how it is.”

I swallowed hard. The finality in his tone left no room for argument. “He won’t be pleased.”

“He doesn’t have to be happy,” Conall replied smoothly. “However, he will respect it. He will respect our relationship, especially if he values peace.”

The implication was clear, sending a chill down my spine. Conall might be my husband now, but he was still a mob boss, willing to do whatever it took to maintain control. They had always been friends, hadn’t they? I shot him a sidelong glance. Was he bluffing right now? Would he break that friendship if Angelo and Remo disapproved?

We proceeded down the hallway in silence until Conall halted before a heavy set of wooden doors. “One more introduction,” he said, pushing them open.

The space appeared to be a kind of lunchroom—a cafeteria? There were clusters of serving areas, trays of hot food, a salad bar, and all the usual amenities. Tables were organized in groups against windows that overlooked the East River.

Throughout the building, Conall greeted each of his soldiers, introduced me along the way, and explained the different areas and their functions. The entire building was impressive, and it was clear that Conall took pride in it and his men. It was also clear that his men respected him—adored him, really.

“It seems like you thought of everything.” I nodded to the men and smiled during introductions as we wove through the tables.

Conall clearly had someone specific in mind as he moved purposefully toward a man sitting at a table in the back, reading. The man’s sharp blue eyes scanned me quickly when he looked up from his book. “Boss.” Rising from the table, I noted that he was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing tactical gear and maintaining a stiff and professional posture.

“This is Finn,” Conall said. “He will be your bodyguard and accompany you wherever you go.”

I blinked. “Great. Alright, it’s nice to meet you, Finn.”

Bodyguard. I suppose I should be grateful that Conall agreed to provide just one bodyguard. Finn might not perfectly blend into the background, but at least Conall agreed he wouldn’t be on my floor while I worked.

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