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...
"Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them."
- George Elliot
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"So, when can I get the keys?" I asked, the phone pressed to my ear as I gazed out the window, still absorbing the aftermath of last night's chaos.
"I'll send them over in a couple of hours," David, my real estate agent, replied. "The house is all set, ready for the newlyweds to move in."
A satisfied smile tugged at my lips. "Good work, David. I'll see you later."
Hector's warmth hit me before his touch did—his bare chest pressing against my back, his arms snaking around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His voice, deep and ruined from sleep, sent a sharp shiver down my spine as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Who's this David that stole you from my side in bed this morning?"
His breath was hot against my skin, teasing, taunting, because he fucking knew exactly what he was doing to me. Every inch of this man made my knees weak.
I stood in front of the floor-length window in my living room, dressed in nothing but black lingerie, staring out at the mess left behind from last night. The fake wedding decorations were wrecked—ripped, bullet-ridden, scattered across the lawn. The aftermath of the little welcome party I'd thrown for Luigi's men. Thankfully, Noah wasn't around to witness the wreckage or the bloodstains. He had stayed with Uncle Ben at Ronan's.
At any other time, seeing my home in ruins would've sent me into a blind rage, but thanks to Hector, it didn't.
He kept his word.
He fucking ruined me last night. Took his sweet time burying himself between my legs—but I couldn't finish the story he was waiting for. The moans and gasps spilling out of me left no room for talking.
"David is... my real estate agent," I finally managed, breathless from the way his lips trailed soft kisses across my shoulder.
"You moving out, baby?" His voice was muffled against my skin, his warm breath teasing me.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "No, it's a small villa I had prepared for Layla and Goat. Their wedding gift."
Hector turned me around, his hands firm on my hips, his gaze locking onto mine with that look—that fucking look—the one that made my stomach tighten and my heart hammer.
Pride. Admiration. Possession.
"I admire the sheer person you are, Francesca," he murmured, his voice dark, reverent, before crushing his lips to mine in a kiss that stole every rational thought from my head.
It didn't make sense, how fucked I was for this man. How much I needed him, how I ached for him in a way that felt like an addiction I had no interest in curing. But fuck logic. Because right now, nothing mattered except him.
