He's her enemy. Her obsession. And the only man who has the power to destroy her.
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My name is Frank Monroe, and I am the most dangerous woman in Chicago. Not because I kill, but because I make it legal. I'm the lawyer the Irish mob calls when...
"The desire for revenge is a craving for payback, but vengeance is a rational and considered response."
- Stephen L. Carter
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I stepped into the walk-in closet, taking my time as I prepared for the funeral—Theodore Pierce's funeral.
The name alone left a bitter taste in my mouth. The man I'd loathed for so long was finally gone, and while I wasn't shedding a single tear over it, appearances still mattered.
I pulled on a sleek black Burberry pantsuit, paired it with sharp black heels, and grabbed my black leather clutch. And for the final touch, a pair of black rectangular sunglasses, not because I was grieving—I wasn't—but to block out the prying eyes that would be searching for it.
No way in hell was I about to play the grieving hypocrite. I was grateful for Theodore for saving Noah, but that didn't make his death a loss-it was the universe righting a wrong.
Just as I grabbed my clutch and headed for the door, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down, half expecting Hector's name to flash across the screen. Instead, it was Luigi Pagano. Of course. He'd been waiting.
I answered, but before I could get a single word in, Luigi's voice exploded through the line.
"You lied, Francesca!" he thundered, his rage practically vibrating through the phone. "You didn't give me back my daughter-in-law! You fucking lied!"
Ah, the sweet sound of his rage. It was downright therapeutic.
I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, loud and deliberate. It was meant to provoke him, and judging by his sharp intake of breath, it worked like a fucking charm.
"You're absolutely right, Luigi. I lied," I said, my tone dripping with mockery. "And what are you gonna do about it? Cry some more? Launch another half-assed attack on my family?" My sarcasm dripped with venom. "You won't. You know why? Because even a spineless, dishonorable bastard like you knows better. You don't want her hurt, do you? So here's what you're actually going to do—you're going to sit your ass down, keep that phone glued to your hand, and wait for my fucking call. Got it?"
Before he could sputter a response, I ended the call. There was nothing more satisfying than taking control-and a man like Luigi hated nothing more than losing it.
I grabbed my clutch and headed out to the driveway where Sawyer was already waiting, leaning against the car with his arms crossed. He looked me over, unimpressed, before sighing dramatically.
"Do we really have to go?" he asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. "So the guy saved Noah. Big deal. That doesn't erase the fact he was an enemy. We can't just forget the hell he put us through."
I stopped in front of him, arms crossed to match his stance. "No, Sawyer, it doesn't," I said firmly. "I'm not about to forget what Theodore did to our family. But Hector needs us there. And when Hector needs me, I show up. End of story."
