Page 56 of Conall's Reign

Theo: What are you talking about, Frankie? Did something else happen? So help me, God, I will drive over there right the hell now and punch that Oliveto in the damn face for you.

Me: After I met up with Cora (who you’ll love, FYI), Cosimo popped out of his car like a jack-in-the-box. He had been waiting for me. The guy gives me the creep factor times ten. He commented on the attack at the hospital and how sorry he was.

Theo: You had guards, right?

Me: Yeah. Finn and Sean were with me. I’m scared, though. I think I need to tell Conall what happened.

Dots appeared and then stopped.

Theo: Are you sure?

Me: What do you think? I should, right?

Theo: We can do it together.

Me: Are you sure?

Theo: Yeah. If you’re going to tell him the truth, let’s explain what happened. He’ll keep our secret and understand why Oliveto is a problem. He’s your husband. You can’t keep him in the dark if Oliveto is approaching you on the fucking sidewalk like a creeper. I’ll be there in thirty.

Me: Thanks, bestie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

conall

Sean’s voiceover the phone was calm, as always. The man could announce the apocalypse and still sound like he was giving a weather update. “Cosimo showed up at the coffee shop. He spoke with Francesca.”

The words struck me like a blow to the chest, and I clutched the edge of my desk so tightly that the wood creaked. “What did he say?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. Every nerve in my body was on edge.

“He was trying to provoke her,” Sean replied. “He played it cool — even polite, but it was all about testing boundaries. He wanted to see how far he could push. She handled it well. She walked away before it escalated.”

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, my mind racing. Francesca had managed it well. She was fine. Sean was there. Nothing had happened. Yet my body didn’t seem to receive the message. My heart pounded in my chest, and sweat prickled at the nape of my neck.

“Is she still with you?” I forced the words out, struggling to catch my breath.

“No,” Sean said. “She’s in the penthouse with Theodosia, and Finn is outside the door.”

“Good.” I ended the call abruptly, not trusting myself to say anything more.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the dark wood grain of my desk, my knuckles white from gripping the edge. She was fine. She was safe. Nothing had happened. I repeated those words in my head like a mantra, but they didn’t help. The image of Cosimo’s face flashed in my mind: his oily smile, his calculating gaze. He was testing boundaries, Sean had said. How long before he decided to cross us?

And what the ever-loving fuck did he have to say tomy wife.

I pushed away from the desk and stood, pacing the length of my office—three steps to the window, pivot, and three steps back to the door. My mind churned with questions, each one more insidious than the last. Why hadn’t I gone with her to the coffee shop? I had sent Finn and Sean, but I should have gone myself. I clenched my fists, frustrated by my inability to control my emotions.

Control. That was the issue, wasn’t it? I couldn’t control this. I couldn’t predict how Francesca might become caught in the crossfire. The thought made my skin crawl, a physical itch I couldn’t scratch.

I grabbed my phone and opened the tracking app. The blinking dot showing Francesca’s location was in the penthouse. I exhaled a shaky breath. She was fine and safe. I checked the timestamp on the tracker to confirm that it had been updated recently, then checked again just to be sure.

The logical part of my brain told me I didn’t need to do this. Sean had said she was there. Finn was with her. However, the logical part of my brain wasn’t in charge right now. I refreshed the app again, watching the dot move incrementally from one room to the next. Only after refreshing it once more did I finally set the phone down, though my fingers still ached to pick it back up.

I returned to my desk but didn’t sit down. Instead, I straightened the scattered papers across the surface, aligning their edges perfectly. Then, I rearranged the pens in their holder, ensuring they all faced the same direction. These small, repetitive actions steadied my hands, but the unease lingered like a shadow at the edge of my thoughts.

Why was I reacting this way? We weren’t sure if Cosimo was a threat. Sean just said he’d spoken to her. Francesca was safe. I had made sure of it. So why couldn’t I shake this gnawing fear and the sense that something was slipping through my grasp? Francesca had begun to mean more to me than she should. And certainly not with the chaos her presence was stirring within me—chaos I couldn’t seem to put back in its box, no matter how hard I tried.

I pressed my palms flat against the desk, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. The answer was right there, lurking beneath the surface, and I despised it. I hated the vulnerability it represented.

This wasn’t just about Francesca being part of the plan or keeping her safe for the sake of appearances and alliances. This was about her. It was about the way she’d worked her way into my life and the carefully constructed walls I’d built around myself. The thought of her being in danger made my stomach churn in a way I didn’t fully understand and couldn’t control.

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