Chapter 26 Francesco #3
“He killed his best friend and then ran away like a coward because he couldn’t live with himself.”
“You wouldn’t understand what it means to live with guilt,” I say, taking a step toward the desk still separating us. “Some people have a heart, you know.”
But I know my father isn’t as heartless as he pretends to be. There’s a heart buried deep in that cold, dark mind of his. It has just been twisted and scarred by everything he’s had to do to keep the family legacy alive.
“I don’t care what you think about me,” he grits.
“You think I don’t feel guilt? You think I don’t regret what I’ve done to this bloodline?
That my sons turned out to be weak, sentimental fucks?
Lorenzo ran. Elio turned into a silent shell.
Marco has been a goddamn joke for half his life.
Thankfully, he came to his senses. And now you,” his eyes burn into mine, “you’ve fallen in love with the one girl I should have put in the ground years ago. ”
“That girl is carrying my child,” I say.
The silence that follows my announcement is heavy, thick with disbelief, anger, and something else I can’t read.
I take another step until my knees hit the desk, until it’s the only thing keeping us apart.
“I will fight for Lia, and I will fight for my child.”
Something breaks in his expression. He drops into his chair like the weight of what I said finally landed. Then he opens a drawer, pulls out a cigar, and lights it with a silver Zippo.
“You’re banished to the east wing, effective immediately.” His voice is low and quiet. “Until I decide what to do with you.”
The east wing is one of the oldest wings in the estate, one that hasn’t had any occupants in decades.
I slip my hands into my pockets, accepting his sentence without a word. I’ve already accepted the consequences.
When he raises the cigar to his lips, I realize I’ve been dismissed.
I turn to leave. I walk over to the door and twist the doorknob.
“Pray La Mano Nera doesn’t find out,” he mutters. “Because if they do… You won’t be the only one they come for. Your lover. Your child. Your brother.”
I don’t wait to hear the rest.
I walk out before he finishes.
The east wing has been cleaned for my stay, but the faint smell of dust still lingers in some areas. My new room looks like something straight out of a historical movie. The furniture is antique. Forgotten paintings line the walls. Ghosts live in the shadows.
I don’t care. I need some silence in my life anyway.
Yet, I still feel a storm rumbling at the pit of my stomach.
I can’t describe exactly what I feel. Rage? Emptiness? Hunger?
The grappling needs to have her by my side.
Eventually, I can’t stand it anymore.
It’s well past midnight, and yet I find myself wandering through the estate, craving something—maybe water, maybe company.
Maybe her.
My steps lead me to the kitchen tucked away in this long-forgotten wing of the house. I step inside. It’s quiet, barely lit—the main lights are off, and only a soft amber glow spills from beneath the cabinets, tracing the edges of the counters and casting the room in a warm, muted hush.
But she’s the first thing I see.
Lia.
She’s just now closing the back door, careful with the latch like she’s trying not to exist too loudly.
This wing is detached from the main estate—a forgotten guest house buried behind the western garden, far from the eyes and ears that monitor everything else.
No staff comes here unless specifically summoned, and no servant is allowed near it without permission. The place is practically off-limits. A dead zone.
She must be seeking isolation. Trying to escape the life she’s trapped in now.
And god, I can’t lie—it feels like I wished her into existence.
I’ve been thinking about her every damn minute. Wanting her. Needing her.
In the quiet moments, in the noise—I’ve been aching for her without even realizing how bad it had gotten.
And now she’s here.
Standing there like some fever dream finally answered.
She’s barefoot. Her hair is tangled, like she’s run her hands through it too many times trying to make a decision she already regrets.
Her eyes are rimmed with exhaustion. Her lips are parted, like she’s just caught her breath—or lost it entirely.
And then she sees me.
I’m leaning against the frame of the hallway door, silent, and half-swallowed by the dark. Her body jolts at the sight of me, a quiet, instinctive flinch.
Like she forgot I existed. Like she didn’t expect to be seen. Like being seen hurts.
Well, it’s the fucking opposite for me.
“You should be asleep,” I grit out, walking into the kitchen.
“I can’t sleep.”
I walk past her, heading toward the refrigerator. Her scent follows me, clinging to my skin and seeping into my lungs.
Thank god there’s still water here.
I grab a bottle, unscrew the lid, and in a few large gulps, the bottle is empty.
I’m still thirsty, but it’s not water I fucking want.
“I heard you earlier,” she says softly, and my head whips in her direction. “I was outside your father’s office…”
“You followed me.”
“I wanted to see you.”
A beat drops.
I gulp, turning away. “You being here with me… it’s wrong.”
“No one followed me.”
“I don’t care.” I move past her again, heading to the opposite counter.
“It doesn’t change what this looks like.”
Silence again. But she still doesn’t leave.
My entire body tightens when I feel her directly behind me. My fingers grip the edge of the counter.
The second I feel her hand brush the counter near mine, I lose the ability to breathe.
“Francesco…”
I whip around and grip her wrist harder than I mean to. She gasps.
“Go,” I say, voice low. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”
She glares at me with that stubborn, infuriating, beautiful face. She looks like she wants to say more. Instead, she scoffs, turns around, and starts to leave.
Something inside me snaps.
I pull her into me and crash my lips against hers. The kiss is desperate and rough. I feel her hands slide up my chest, to the side of my face, burying into my hair and pulling the strands. My hands grip her waist so hard, like I’m scared she’ll slip away.
My mouth doesn’t leave hers for a second as I lift her onto the counter.
I step into the space between her legs, and she wraps them around my waist. My tongue slides through her parted lips, exploring every inch of her mouth and tasting her desperation.
I can feel myself falling apart because of her.
It’s not just passion or lust… It’s something else I cannot explain.
She moans softly, pushing her hips closer to mine when my hands wander down her back. A whimper escapes her throat as I slide one hand down her thigh, then under her nightgown.
“This fucking dress…” I groan against her lips as my fingers find her wet heat. “Did you come here knowing I was going to fuck you?” I slip two fingers inside.
She gasps against my lips. “Yes, but not like this.”
Her hands fumble against the waistband of my pants. “I want you inside me.”
I bite back a groan as she slips me out and palms me in her soft hands.
“You want me to fill you up?” I ask, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth.
“Mhmm.” Her hands fist in my shirt, and she pulls me even closer, grinding her crotch into me.
I run my tongue along her bottom lip, slowly sliding down her chin until I reach her throat. I lift her dress to run my tip over her moist entrance. The sweet sound of her moan ripples through the room.
“Fuck,” I groan as I slide in. “You taste so good…” I trail kisses from her collarbone to her neck, where I suck lightly. “I’m almost tempted to mark you.”
She tilts her head, giving me more access.
“Harder, please,” she whispers.
I start thrusting roughly, faster and harder than ever. Each time I hit a particular spot in her body, I hear the little gasp escape from her lips. Her hands cling to my shoulders, and she grinds her hips against mine, meeting my tempo.
“Lia…” I groan against her neck, gripping her thighs tighter in my arms. “You don’t know how crazy you drive me.”
I slide one hand around her neck, and her eyes flash in pleasure. “You don’t know how much control you have over me.”
Her hips arch off the counter as I push deeper, making her cry out again. “Fran…” She arches into me, grabbing handfuls of my hair. “Don’t stop…”
“Goddamnit, Lia,” I groan before slamming faster and harder into her.
Her arms tighten around me, and I feel my own climax building.
She lets out another needy moan as we both reach our climax together.
I hold her body tightly as she trembles in my arms. When it’s over, she collapses against me, her head falling to my shoulder.
I rest my forehead against hers, both of us breathing like we just survived something brutal. Maybe we did.
Her skin is warm beneath my hands, still humming with the violence of want. Her breath catches, brushing against my mouth.
“You’re going to ruin me,” she whispers.
I close my eyes.
Pull her tighter, like that could stop what’s already been set in motion.
And for once, I don’t lie.
I will.