CHAPTER NINETEEN
francesca
The kitchen was alive with the aroma of garlic and rosemary, blending with the tangy sweetness of orange zest. I checked the pot of osso buco with one hand, the other dusted in powdered sugar while glancing at the cooling cakes on the counter. The frosting rested in a bowl nearby, waiting for my attention. For a moment, the rhythmic motions of cooking grounded me. The controlled chaos of the kitchen felt far more manageable than the storm brewing behind me. Part of me wished I could summon Theo back here as a buffer. I couldn’t believe we had been so careless as to discuss Fausto’s murder in a place where we could be overheard.
“Murder, Francesca? Really?”
Conall’s voice cut through the room like a knife.
I froze, spoon mid-stir, my heart leaping into my throat. Damn, Theo and her mouth. I turned slowly, schooling my expression into one of casual surprise. Conall leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an eyebrow arched. His tailored shirt stretched across his shoulders, and he looked every bit the powerful man who wouldn’t hesitate to extract the truth.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Conall. Me? Kill someone? That’s ridiculous.”
I focused on the pot, double-checking the flavors. The savory aroma intensified, giving me a moment to think. “Theo and I were joking,”
I said casually. “You know how she gets after a glass of wine. Or two.”
“This didn’t sound like a joke.”
Conall stepped closer, his gaze keeping me in place. “I value honesty, Francesca. You know that.”
My grip tightened around the spoon. Honesty. It would be so easy to reveal everything—the night Fausto Oliveto attempted to take what wasn’t his, the panic, the struggle, the blood. But that truth was a Pandora’s box I wasn’t prepared to open. Not now. It wouldn’t benefit anyone.
I turned to him, offering a smile that I hoped looked convincing. “Honestly, Conall, it’s nothing. Theo has been watching too many crime shows. Next time, I’ll ask her to tone down the theatrics.”
I knew she’d forgive me for throwing her under the bus, but I still cringed a little for the comment.
His jaw ticked, but he didn’t press further — not yet. Instead, his gaze flicked toward the bowl of frosting. “What’s the cake for?”
“Dinner,”
I said, picking up the spatula and swirling it through the rich Italian buttercream frosting. “I’m a sucker for sweets. Cake is one of my favorites. I know you think your body is a temple, but I’m sure your brothers and I will enjoy it.
Conall smirked, yet tension lingered in his eyes. “They’re not exactly the cake-eating type.”
“Everyone becomes a cake-eating type if it’s good enough,”
I countered, spreading frosting over one of the layers. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s a lie. Your brothers definitely eat cake.”
I winked at him.
Conall could share his “my body is a temple”
spiel as much as he wanted, but I knew his brothers had a sweet tooth. If I was going to live here, I needed allies. I wasn’t above bribery.
He barked out a laugh, but his eyes darkened. “A lie?”
he echoed, stepping closer. “You’re the one having the suspicious conversations, not me.
I rolled my eyes, smothering the cake with precision. “Let it go, Conall. If there were bodies to bury, I’d make sure you never found them. Besides, you’re the last person to talk about killing anyone. You probably killed someone yesterday.”
He chuckled, low and rough. “I wouldn’t judge.”
I wasn’t afraid of anyone judging my morality exactly. It was the repercussions that would follow.
“And you’re late,”
I retorted, glancing at the clock. “Go get ready. Your friends are waiting, and I still have a meal to finish.”
Conall lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on me as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. Then he shook his head and turned to leave. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Sure it is,”
I muttered under my breath as I turned back to the osso buco. The meat was tender, falling off the bone, and the gremolata was ready to sprinkle on top.
By the time Conall returned, wearing a fresh shirt and smelling of aftershave that made my stomach do an unwelcome flip, I had set the table and decorated the cake with delicate swirls of frosting. He put on his suit jacket and paused in the doorway.
“Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone,”
he said, a teasing edge to his voice
I waved him away with a spoon. “Go play kingpin. I’ll hold down the fort.”
As the door closed behind him, I exhaled, feeling the tension finally ease from my shoulders. The truth pressed heavily on my chest, but I shoved it down. For now, the past would remain where it belonged — hidden.
**
Me: Conall overheard us in the kitchen talking. He wants to know who I murdered.
Theo: Omg. I’m so sorry. That was careless. I’m not used to you living somewhere with other people who aren’t spelled T-H-E-O.
Me: I threw him off. Our motto in life. Deny. Deny. Deny.
Theo: That’s right, bestie. We’ll ride that train into the sunset.