Chapter 11
Finn
I stop in front of Gianna's door, my hand raised in a hesitant pause, fingers curled into a loose fist. For a moment, I consider knocking, checking in to know how she's doing, but I let my hand drop.
I'll send Bernard to take her food up. She doesn't need more pressure today.
She doesn't need to face William or Declan, not after everything that happened yesterday.
She deserves at least a moment of peace.
The kiss we shared plays in my mind like a stereo all through last night, and even now, it's all I can think of.
As much as I would rather chew glass than sit at the same table with William, I don't want Declan to be pissed. I have to be on his good side to keep Gianna around. The elevator door slides open with a low chime. I step in, run a hand through my hair, and take a deep breath.
A few seconds pass before the elevator glides open again, revealing the hallway that leads to the dining room.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes drifts in the air.
I move toward the doorway. Inside, they're all seated.
Declan is as composed and unreadable as ever; William, with that smug air he can't seem to wipe off even with a busted nose.
James, quiet and focused, and then a face I didn't expect to see.
My eyes lock on her, a flicker of surprise shooting through me. Ailish is seated with perfect posture, long lashes casting shadows, and she tilts her head to something Declan says.
They don't sit in a particular order but scattered around the table like chess pieces waiting to make a move. They all turn to me as I enter, and my eyes land on William, his nose still swollen and red, and it makes me feel good.
"Welcome back, Ailish," I say to her as I take my seat opposite her. I position myself deliberately, far enough from William and James. Declan sits at the head of the table. One hand rests flat on the polished table, and the other rests on the armrest.
Ailish gives me a small nod, her sharp brown eyes flickering up to meet mine.
"Thank you," she replies, her voice calm and deliberate as always.
There's a calmness to her tone, but underneath lies something more: calculation and awareness.
She doesn't miss a thing. She's been away for about two weeks now.
Declan had sent her on a special mission, but I didn't expect her to return anytime soon.
She's smart, tough, and is Declan's close confidante, hence my respect for her.
The scent of warm pancakes, syrup, crispy bacon, and freshly scrambled eggs wafts up from the platter.
But the thing I'm most eager to chug down is the red wine.
I reach for the glass, sending a decent amount of red wine down my throat, the alcohol burning slightly as it slides down. It's not even eight in the morning, but I need something to dull the weight in the room.
The table is unusually silent. The tension from last night still coils in the air like smoke from a smoldering fire. No one says a word, and Declan's silence feels even louder than most men's shouting.
Ailish lifts a brow. "Why is the table so silent?" she asks, her tone light, but laced with curiosity. Then, her eyes sweep the room, landing on William. "And would someone explain to me why William's nose looks like it was used to break concrete?"
Her gaze flickers between all of us, waiting.
I clench my jaw and look away from her, reaching for my wine again. I'm not ready to talk about last night. Even if she's Declan's most trusted confidante, that doesn't mean I owe her any explanation. The silence stretches until James chuckles. The sound is dry, almost mocking.
"Finn was ready to break more than his nose yesterday," he says with a crooked grin, leaning back in his chair. William shifts, glaring at him. His ego is still bruised, and so is his face. I don't say anything as I take another sip of my wine.
Ailish looks at me again, raising her brow, waiting for me to fill in the blanks. When I don't, she turns to James for answers. "He did it because of a girl." Ailish blinks, her lips curling into a faint smirk.
"A girl?" she echoes, amused. Still, Declan says nothing as the little discussion holds.
"Are we having breakfast or what?" William cuts through the discussion, and I wonder why Declan hasn't started eating.
"We're waiting on someone," Declan says plainly. No, it can't be. "Who?" Ailish asks, and the door creaks open. Gianna walks in with Alex by her side. She's wearing a simple top that falls slightly on her shoulder and a black pair of jeans. Her hair is a low ponytail dangling behind her.
She shouldn't be here. I don't want her to be, especially not with Ailish here.
Declan smirks, directing his hand for Gianna to sit. Her eyes land on me, and she remains that way until she sits beside me. Ailish's eyes move from Gianna to Declan, to me, and back to Declan. The confusion is evident in her look.
Declan decides to add clarity to her confusion. "Gianna, this is Ailish, my closest confidante," his voice is full of mischief, and it makes my skin boil. "Ailish, this is Gianna. Gianna Rosso."
Ailish's eyes widen, and she looks around the table like we've all lost our minds. "Is this a joke?" she scoffs.
"Apparently not. Finn busted William's nose because of her," James says with a smirk, and I close my eyes, knowing this is about to get messy.
"What?" Ailish blurts out, her voice sharp with disbelief as her eyes shoot straight to Declan. "You allow a Rosso in our midst, and she sits here to what... have breakfast with us?"
Her voice echoes around the dining room like a slap, and all eyes now flicker between Declan and her. "She gave up that name when she stepped into this estate," Declan replies, cool and unbothered, glancing at his watch. I watch as Gianna's eyes dart to Declan and then to William.
Her fist is clenched on her lap, the strain visible in her knuckles. I was right. She's still not recovered from last night. "Now, let's eat," Declan adds, closing the matter, but I know Ailish won't let it go that easily.
Ailish lets out a bitter scoff. "Are you all seriously messing with me? She's obviously here as a spy."
"Ailish," I say, keeping my voice calm even though her accusations are grinding against every nerve in my body. "Relax. She's not here as a spy."
"Oh really?" she throws back at me, sarcasm laced in every syllable. "And how would you know that, huh?"
I glance at Gianna who hasn't said a word. Her breathing is shallow, jaw clenched. I move my hand slowly under the table, reaching for hers and gently resting my palm over her clenched fist.
"I know her, and I trust her." That simple declaration makes Gianna's eyes meet mine, surprised, soft, but still guarded. Before I can say anything, Ailish's laughter cuts through the room.
"Oh, that is rich," she says, nearly breathless from her disbelief. "William. James, are you two seriously going to sit there like this is normal? Like she belongs at this table?" William glances away, jaw tight. James lowers his head to his plate. Neither of them says a word.
Ailish's expression twists in frustration, and she turns to Declan again. "I'm telling you she's trouble," she hisses. Her short brown hair bouncing as she moves, eyes begging for Declan's agreement.
Declan doesn't flinch. Doesn't even look up. He picks up his fork, cuts into his pancake, and begins to eat. I exhale through my nose, then silently dig into my own pancake, no longer wanting to feed the fire. But before I eat, I slide an untouched plate of warm pancakes and eggs towards Gianna.
She glances down at the plate, then up at me, mouthing softly. "Thank you."
I give her a small smile, hoping it tells her more than words can. That I see her. That I believe her, and she isn't alone.
"I won't sit here and have a meal with a fucking Rosso. Over my dead body," Ailish spits, her words laced with venom so thick it hangs in the air like smoke. Her voice is sharp and loud, burning with so much anger and hatred.
"Watch your tone, Ailish," I raise my voice. She might be Declan's trusted confidant, but I don't care. She's crossing a line, and she knows it.
Her eyes flash with wide disbelief. "Why?" she sneers. "Are you going to bust my nose because of your pretty princess, who is obviously taking advantage of you? Are you that stupid, Finn?"
Across the table, James whistles, throwing scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"You seem to forget your place, Ailish," I growl, my fist clenched tightly under the table. "Just because Declan keeps you around doesn't mean you can speak to me like this."
Ailish doesn't blink. She isn't backing down. "I'm pretty much a Costello," she hisses, rising slightly in her seat like she might leap across the table. "I've worked my ass off for this family, and I will not sit here and watch it get torn apart by some bimbo with a pretty face."
My jaw ticks. I can feel the heat rise in my neck. "Stop talking like she's not sitting right fucking here," I say slowly, my voice tight. "This is your last warning, Ailish. Watch your mouth."
Ailish's eyes don't waver. She leans forward slightly, as if daring me to do something. "What would you do if I didn't?" she challenges, our gaze sharp and unwavering. The tension stretches between us like a loaded gun ready to go off.
"Enough," Declan's voice cuts through the tension. The room stills. Even the sound of forks on plates disappears. "Stop wasting time arguing," he says, not even glancing at me or Ailish. "We've got a long day ahead." Declan finally turns to Ailish. "We have a lot to discuss. Eat."
Ailish doesn't respond. Her lips tighten, her back going rigid, but she obeys. She knows how far to push Declan. Even she won't cross a line that dangerous. But her anger doesn't fade. It simmers in her eyes as she glares at Gianna from across the table.
Gianna doesn't flinch at first. She holds Ailish's gaze like a silent challenge, but after a moment, she breaks the connection and looks away.