𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲.
𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞
I am the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
Francesca "Frank" Monroe. One of the most successful criminal defense attorneys in the history of Illinois. The woman everyon...
"If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?"
- William Shakespeare
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Lately, my workload had been through the roof, and any free time I got was a rare luxury. It had been way too long since I last visited Ronan—the man who was like an uncle to me, who'd pulled Noah and me off the streets just as much as Papa had. So, as I left Papa's house, I figured I'd swing by his place.
Pulling up to Ronan's villa, the first thing I noticed was Hector's Jeep parked out front. If I'd known he was here, I might've reconsidered. I wasn't in the mood for awkwardness—or for anyone picking up on the feelings I'd been trying (and failing) to ignore.
Lately, it had been impossible to keep my cool around him. One dimpled smile and I was blushing like a fucking schoolgirl.
Pathetic. Get a grip.
Before I could dwell on it any longer, the villa's front door swung open, and there stood Ronan, all broad-shouldered and grinning like I'd just made his day.
"Frankie! Baby girl! It's great to see you!" he boomed, arms wide open, ready to pull me in.
Despite everything on my mind, I couldn't help but smile as I hugged him. "Missed you, Rory," I murmured against his chest.
Ronan spent a lot of time traveling between Chicago and Dublin for business—being Papa's right-hand man in the Irish mob meant constant work. That was why I didn't see him as often as I'd like.
He chuckled, squeezing me tighter. "And I you, baby." Then he pulled back, his attention shifting to Sawyer. "Sawyer, how's life treating you?"
"All good, Ronan," Sawyer replied with a nod. "You?"
"Stellar, my man. Now, come on, let's get inside," Ronan said, gesturing for us to follow him into the living room.
As we stepped into the room, my eyes immediately landed on Hector, lounging by the fireplace with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. The fire cast a warm glow over him, making him look even more infuriatingly irresistible. The sight of him sent a wave of emotions crashing over me—comfort, longing, frustration. I'd just seen him this morning. What the fuck?
"Hey," I greeted, keeping my tone casual, like his presence wasn't messing with my head. I dropped onto the couch next to Ronan, determined to play it cool.
Hector glanced away from the fire, his sharp gray eyes locking onto mine. "Hey," he said, voice smooth but unreadable. "How you doing?"
He saw right through me. I could tell. He knew exactly what I was trying to do and was playing along.
"I'm good, you?" I shot back, my expression carefully neutral. Ronan and Sawyer didn't need to see whatever the hell was happening between us.
Hector didn't answer right away. He just nodded slowly, studying me with that same intense gaze that always managed to strip me bare without a single touch. It was unnerving. And yet, I couldn't look away.
