CHAPTER THIRTY
francesca
The bass from the club floor thumped beneath my heels, sending an unsettling vibration up my legs as Conall and I navigated through Mirage. Angelo’s club. My brother’s club. This was a world I knew well: the power, the danger, the ever-present undercurrent of violence.
Sean and Finn moved beside us, their presence a silent reminder that protection was never optional in our world. The scent of expensive liquor and cigar smoke clung to the air, mingling with the seductive perfume of women draped across the laps of powerful men. Conall’s hand rested on the small of my back, grounding me. Still, my stomach churned at the thought that I was on the verge of confessing a sin that would change everything.
Beyond the glitz and indulgence of the main floor, we approached the entrance to the VIP lounge. A sharp, watchful man in a suit nodded at Conall and opened the heavy door. Inside, the atmosphere shifted—the music faded to a distant hum, the lighting dim and moody, and the air felt heavier with the weight of important business.
Maxim was already seated, holding a tumbler of vodka, his sharp eyes flickering toward me with measured interest. It was difficult to imagine him married to the teasing, joking woman I had met at the cafe earlier today. Ilias leaned back in his chair, always relaxed, a smirk playing on his lips as if this were just another entertaining evening. Angelo sat with an elbow on the table, his fingers grazing the rim of his glass. My brother sensed something was off as he watched Conall escort me inside. His face was serious as he stared me down, as if he knew what I would say, and my stomach squirmed. I hated the thought of my brother being disappointed in me.
“Conall,”
Maxim greeted, his gaze then shifting to me. “Francesca, nice to see you. My wife tells me she had a good afternoon with you.”
“We had a good visit. Maybe you guys can come over for dinner sometime.”
“Sure,”
Maxim said ruefully, running a hand over his chin. “Cora would murder me if I said no.”
Ilias held out his hand. “Pay up, sucker.”
Angelo slapped a few bills into his palm.
“You’re a dick.”
Ilias just laughed. “Not my fault you lost.”
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat but smiled at Ilias’s antics. They were obviously betting on Maxim and Conall getting domesticated, which was probably pretty funny for the two of them. Conall pulled out a chair for me, and I gratefully collapsed into it. My pulse pounded in my temples. Theo and I had kept this secret for years, and now that we had set it free into the world, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. Fausto was not just another soldier in the ranks. He had been the brother of one of the dons in New York, and I had killed him. He had deserved it, but still.
Conall settled beside me, stretching an arm along the back of my chair in a gesture that conveyed both possession and protection. “We have something to discuss,”
he said, his voice steady and controlled.
“We gathered. I’m a little surprised that it includes the lovely Francesca.”
Ilias winked at me, but a puzzled expression remained on his face. Theo’s brother seemed somewhat of an anomaly to me. Her family’s criminal organization was different from the Santelli mafia and even the O’Kellys. Ilias appeared to thrive within a completely distinct network from the others.
“Her presence was necessary,”
Conall said, coolly rubbing his thumb along the edge of my hairline.
Maxim took a slow sip of his drink. “Go on.”
I exhaled, pressing my palms on my lap. “It’s about Fausto.”
The room fell silent. Ilias’s smirk sharpened, Angelo leaned in slightly, and Maxim’s expression darkened just enough to make my spine straighten.
Conall’s fingers brushed my shoulder, offering silent reassurance. “She’s the one who killed him.”
Silence hung thick and suffocating. No one seemed to cast judgment—these men had experienced enough of the world to recognize what people were capable of—but their lack of reaction was almost worse. It suggested that they were already calculating the consequences.
Angelo was the first to break the silence. “And what did he do, sorella?”
I met his gaze, forcing steel into my spine. “It was self-defense. He tried to rape me. So, I stabbed him in the neck.”
A flicker of something dark passed through Angelo’s eyes, yet it was Ilias who released a low chuckle. “Well, isn’t that an interesting development? Cosimo has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off for years.”
“You could have come to me. I would have protected you. That’s my job.”
Angelo appeared haunted. I knew he would blame himself, but I hadn’t wanted that either. As much as Angelo wanted to protect me, I also wanted to protect him.
“I know, fratello.”
Maxim, always composed, set his glass down with a gentle clink. “And you burnt the car and the body?”
“She had help.”
Conall’s thumb kept rubbing the base of my skull.
My brother’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Damn, Theo. That girl has been stealing from my garage for years, but it all makes sense now. She’s been a menace.”
I shrugged. “She’s the real deal, that girl.”
I winked at my brother, attempting to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t sure if it could be salvaged. I wondered if Angelo would forgive me or Theo for keeping this from him.
“Well, let’s get serious for a minute. You did a good job, and the guy deserved what he got. So, that isn’t the issue. I have no problem with you killing Fausto. This is about Oliveto. Has Cosimo been suspicious?”
Maxim asked.
Conall tightened his grip on the back of my chair, his body tense beside me. “For years,”
he confirmed, his voice heavy with the frustration he had barely contained. “He’s been looking for cracks, asking questions, and pushing boundaries where he shouldn’t. He suspects something, even if he doesn’t know exactly what.”
Maxim leaned forward, his fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass. His gaze flicked to me, searching. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”
I lifted my chin, refusing to cower under his scrutiny. “I handled it. Oliveto had nothing on me or Theo. You didn’t have a war with the Olivetos. There was no reason for there to be one.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from Ilias. “But did you handle it?”
His smirk maintained its usual edge of amusement, yet there was calculation in his eyes. “Given that Cosimo has been digging, I’d say it’s not quite as handled as you’d like.”
Angelo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Something about him always felt… off. Do you think that was his entire motive with us? Was he trying to dig for information on his brother’s death?”
“I don’t believe that was his full intention,”
Ilias countered. “However, I can’t deny it seems to have been a major reason why he was trying to get a foot in the door with us.”
He had stayed silent regarding Theo’s involvement in Fausto’s death. I wondered what he thought about the whole debacle. Would she get in trouble with Ilias later? Theo had always had a good relationship with her brothers and sister. I hoped this didn’t ruin it.
“Maybe he’s seeking leverage,”
Conall said, his tone flat. “He hasn’t discovered it, but that hasn’t deterred him from trying.”
Maxim nodded slowly, his expression inscrutable. “And now we understand why. He’s not just a vulture picking at scraps. He has a reason to believe there’s something valuable to uncover.”
I swallowed the knot of tension that had formed in my throat. “So, what now?
Maxim steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between Conall and me. "Now, we will use Cosimo’s desperation against him. Let him believe he’s onto something, but we control the narrative. We will give him just enough rope to hang himself. We don’t like vultures.”
Angelo swirled the amber liquid in his glass, deep in thought. “You want to feed him crumbs? Let him think he's getting closer to the truth?”
Maxim inclined his head. "Exactly. I want him to confess what he is looking for and what he’s interested in."
Conall tightened his grip on the back of my chair. “And what if he actually finds something? What if he realizes that Fausto's death leads straight back to Francesca or Theo? Or makes another move?”
Ilias chuckled darkly. "Then he dies."
Maxim's lips curled into a knowing smile. “We can select a new leader from the Oliveto clan. Cosimo has no heir, and I believe Nico opposes some of his tactics. In the meantime, we might also arrange something for Cosimo.”
He grinned evilly.
“Actually, I think you’re onto something there. I believe Nico disagrees with Cosimo’s obsession with Fausto. When he talked to me the other day, Nico disapproved. I could tell.”
I remembered Nico’s face pinched with unmistakable disgust at his boss’s behavior towards me. “I think you might be able to press there. “ My pulse steadied now that a plan was forming.
Conall nodded. “We’ll need to handle Nico carefully to turn him against Cosimo. It has to be a full-on coup, but we can help make it appear as if Cosimo has gone off the deep end.”
Angelo exhaled sharply, placing his glass down with a soft thud. “It’ll be a win-win. We’ll retain our ally and the soldiers they supply against Vallone.”
Conall rubbed his jaw, lost in thought. “We need to be careful. If Cosimo detects manipulation, he will retaliate. He's not a fool."
“That’s why we let him think he’s the one playing the game,”
Ilias added with a grin. "We don’t push too hard. We let him draw his own conclusions—ones we conveniently guide him toward."
Angelo turned his gaze towards me. “Francesca, you and Theo were careful, but there’s always a chance that something was overlooked. If Cosimo stumbles upon anything, you need to let us know immediately. Don’t try to handle this alone."
I met my brother’s gaze, interpreting the command behind his words. "Understood."
"Then it’s settled." Maxim leaned forward, his voice a low murmur of finality. "We let this situation with Cosimo play out, and when he has outlived his usefulness…" His fingers flexed once before he reached for his glass. "We end him."