Page 69 of Conall's Reign

I didn’t rememberthe elevator ride to Conall’s penthouse. I couldn’t even allow my phobia to bother me. Everything was a blur—his arm around me, the low hum of the city below, and the sterile lights flashing as we ascended.

Conall maintained a firm grip on me, his touch the only thing anchoring me. I hadn’t resisted as he guided me inside, even though my mind was trapped elsewhere—back in the warehouse, outside the club, amidst the blood and chaos.

Sean. Shot.

Cosimo Oliveto. Shot.

And then—Vanello.

I squeezed my eyes shut as Conall guided me toward the bathroom. I heard the sound of running water and the soft rustling of him tugging at my clothes. I should have protested, but my limbs felt heavy, and my head still throbbed from where they had struck me. I blinked hard, trying to clear the images etched into my mind.

Sean had screamed for me to run when the men in the alley attacked. He had fought hard to shelter me, fighting like a man possessed as he mowed through Oliveto’s men, but there had been too many. Then shots had rung out. A crimson bloom on his chest, the way he staggered, fell.

And Cosimo—his blood splattering across my face when the bullet tore through him. I barely remembered anything except the smell of gunpowder and the heaviness of my breath, too quick and shallow.

Vanello’s voice pierced through everything.

“My daughter.”

I still didn’t know whether I had imagined it.

“Francesca.” Conall’s voice was firm, pulling me back. He was crouched in front of me, his hands steady as he pulled his shirt over my head. I hadn’t moved to help him. I couldn’t. He was patient, not saying a word as he slid off the shirt. I felt the air hit my skin, cold against the sticky warmth of dried blood—not mine, but Sean’s.

Vanello’s voice echoed again.

How could I tell Conall?

How could I tell my husband that his enemy was my father?

The absurdity of it made my throat tighten. I let him guide me into the shower, the steaming water hitting me in a scalding rush, washing away the night’s filth. My head tipped forward, my palms pressing into the cool tile as the weight of it all crashed down on me.

Sean shot.

Cosimo dead.

How could I tell my brother?

“Breathe, Francesca,” Conall murmured, stepping into the shower behind me. His arms wrapped around me, steadying me as my knees threatened to buckle. I inhaled a ragged breath, feeling his heartbeat against my back, strong and unwavering. “I’ve got you.”

I wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the water wash everything away.

“Take it all away.” I pressed my forehead against the tile, unsure whether I was reacting to the experience of being kidnapped, witnessing a murder, or the information I’d received. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. I recognized the symptoms of shock.

Hands slid up along the curve of my waist as Conall pressed against me, his palms grazing my skin with the back of his knuckles until he reached my breasts. Cupping each in turn, he squeezed and kneaded as he tweaked my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through me.

“I love your tits, Francesca. These pretty pink nipples of yours are just begging for my mouth.” His mouth landed on the nape of my neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. His tongue flicked against the wound. “I can’t reach them like this so this will have to do.”

I couldn’t form the words as he caressed and kneaded while he rubbed against me. Each pinch sent a rush of wetness between my thighs.

“Just close your eyes, baby. Relax. Just let me take care of you.”

The whisper in his ear soothed me as I pressed my forehead back against his shoulder. I let him support my weight as he slid a hand down to the apex of my thighs. His cock was hard against me as his finger teased against my folds, circling my swollen clit in maddeningly glancing motions. It felt like I was dripping on his hand.

Two fingers went inside just as I was about to start begging him. I wanted him to make me come. I felt so empty. Pumping back and forth, he flicked my clit as I rode his hand.

“That’s it. What a good girl.” His teeth were at my ear, and his cock was between the cheeks of my ass as I came. “So beautiful.”

I wanted him to fill me, take me over and over. Just thinking about what might have happened sent chills racing down my skin again. I could have died. We could have lost this.

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