CHAPTER ELEVEN
conall
I watched Francesca standing by the window in my apartment. The evening light draped over her, giving her an untouchable quality. When she turned to face me, her eyes were sharp and unwavering.
Her neck was already bruised, the marks standing out against her skin, and it still made me furious that someone had harmed her. I was completely irrational, pushing her now when she should be resting, but I couldn’t control myself in this rare moment. The words had spilled out before I could contain them.
"Fine," she said, her voice steady yet firm. “I will marry you."
It was the last thing I expected her to say. I had prepared myself for a fight, for tears, or for her to storm out and slam the door behind her. Threats or shouting- anything but this. None of those reactions would have benefited her at all, but capitulation? She surprised me.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair as I studied her. “Fine? Is that all?”
Her lips curled into a faint smile, yet it lacked warmth. "Yes, but I have conditions. If this is going to happen, I want my own contract."
Her own contract. Of course. She wouldn’t allow me to take the upper hand without a fight. I had nearly forgotten how clever she was. Francesca wouldn’t go down easily, but in the end, she’d be my wife, I thought with satisfaction, watching her squirm in her boxy hospital scrubs. At Cora and Maxim’s wedding, she had worn a stunning gown with a slit almost up to her hip. I’d spent all night trying to keep myself from hauling her against the wall and having my way with her.
"What do you want in this contract?”
I asked, maintaining a steady tone.
“I’ll keep my job. I won’t give up nursing just because you’ve chosen to fulfill some ancient blood oath.”
She took a deep breath when I remained silent. “No children. Ever. That’s non-negotiable."
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her boldness. She had said she didn’t want to be a wife, but no children? Ever? That seemed extreme. She would make a fantastic mother. I had told the others I needed an heir, but that wasn’t true. I wouldn’t force the issue if Francesca didn’t want children. Paddy or Brody could take over for me when necessary. I realized she didn’t know me well, but I would never make her give up her career. It wasn’t uncommon for a woman to be ‘encouraged’ to stay at home in organized crime families, but I wouldn’t be part of that trend. She had worked hard to become a nurse, and I wouldn’t diminish her accomplishments.
"I want my own money. Not an allowance, not some account you control—my own money, separate from yours.”
She would have had that anyway, but I didn’t want to go into detail. Francesca would not only be well cared for, but she would also have her own money, just as she requested. I had relied on others before, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
She took another deep breath as she watched me, waiting for me to speak or to make some kind of hysterical objection. “I want the freedom to come and go as I please. If this is going to be a partnership, I don’t want to feel like a prisoner."
Again, I remained silent. I wouldn’t hold my own wife prisoner. She’d have protection, but she could go wherever she wanted to.
She paused, letting the silence linger and daring me to speak up. When I stayed silent, she went on, “And finally, if you ever lay a hand on me in anger, I’m out of here. There will be no discussions."
Her last request hit me like a punch to the gut, but I kept a neutral expression. “Anything else?”
I asked, half-joking to mask the unease and hurt twisting in my chest. Did she think I was like my father? That I would ever raise a hand to her? Still, it left a nagging discomfort in my chest, something unresolved. I hated loose ends, hated variables I couldn’t control.
“The marriage will be in name only,”
she said, the last bit delivered with bravado as she looked off to the side. “I’ll sleep in the guest room or whatever. That’s it. Take it or leave it." She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up.
I stepped closer, just close enough to see the defiance burning in her eyes. “You realize that what you’re asking for isn’t usually how things are done.”
She laughed, a brief, bitter sound. “Nothing about this situation is normal, Conall."
She had a point. She might believe this was about duty, family, and survival, but that was a lie. I wasn’t doing it for any of those reasons. That was the party line I had fed my sister. I was a jerk. Still, she found love for herself, and things had all worked out in the end.
Francesca sought a way to take control and shift the balance of power in her favor. I admired her for this, even as it frustrated me.
“Are you really serious about all this?”
I asked, trying to stifle the amusement that was growing alongside my admiration.
"Dead serious." Her lips pressed together. “If you are determined to get married, then I am equally determined about these things.”
I ran my hand along my jaw, counting the exact number of strokes. They had to be even and precise. She had no idea how disorder grated on me, how it made my skin feel too tight and my thoughts spiral into chaos. Her demands were reasonable—mostly. The no-children clause stung, but I couldn’t contest that point now. Children were messy anyway, I reasoned. As for the rest, I could handle it. Hell, I even respected her more for standing her ground.
"Alright," I said finally. "We’ll draft the contract. You’ll get what you want,”
I paused. “Except for that last one. This will be a real marriage. No separate beds.”
Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to agree so quickly. “But what about everything else?”
I smirked. “Don’t think for a second that I’ll let you dictate everything, Francesca. This is still my world, my rules. You may have your conditions, but don’t test your luck."
She met my gaze, unwavering. "I wouldn’t dream of it."
“ Liar, “ I thought, but I didn’t voice it. Instead, I extended my hand. "Deal?"
She hesitated for just a moment before taking it. Her grip was firm, her skin cool against mine. "Deal."
As her fingers slipped from mine, I flexed my hand and rolled my shoulders to combat the creeping discomfort. Uneven. Off-balance. I needed to restore order, to find a way to fit this within the structure of my world. Francesca might think she had control now, but she had no idea who she was dealing with.