Page 12 of Owed to the Billionaire

“What’s happening, Ryan? Why did he let you see me today?” I finally whispered, fearing the answer.

Ryan pulled out a folded envelope from his back pocket. “Salvatore gave me a new assignment and…. I don’t know how it’s gonna go.” Ryan tried sounding casual, his broken voice betraying him. “I’m sure it’s gonna be fine but, if you don’t hear from me in a few days, I want you to open this, ok?”

“What is it?” I took the envelope with suspicion.

“It’s your ticket out, Michael. In writing.”

My heart sank in my chest. “What d'ya mean? What kind of job is it?” Vincent wouldn’t give him anything dangerous, would he? Not now after-

“Don't worry about it, okay?” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before smiling at me. “I do this last job and we’re free!”

“Free…. We owe him a lot!” I reminded him, skeptical.

“He told me himself.” His eyes lit up.

He didn't tell me… Why wouldn't he give me the news? Unless…. Unless it was bad news.

“How’s that possible? We owe him so much….”

“It doesn’t matter. Just trust me, ok?” He hugged me tight. “I’m gonna get you out, brother…. I’m gonna get you out.” Playfully ruffling my hair, Ryan pulled away.

I tried smiling through the pain in my chest. “I know you will.”

Ryan walked away, stopping at the door. “Remember, Mike, I’m gonna get you out.” He smiled back with a shrug. “Have I ever let you down?”

I shook my head with a tearful laugh. Have you ever….?

Chapter 9

Salvatore

I walked down the dimly lit hallway, each step resonating with the weight of my thoughts. Michael and I had shared something last night, and it wasn’t just a sexual act; it was a connection I hadn't anticipated, a vulnerability I wasn't accustomed to. It left me feeling exposed, teetering on the edge of emotions I had long buried. I was a bit anxious, but that foreign fluttering in my stomach made me smile with eagerness as I reached his door. Everything ended the second I walked in.

Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, an envelope clutched tightly in his hands. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression a mix of anguish and fury. As soon as he saw me, he stood up; the envelope shaking in his grip.

"Vincent," he began, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You lied to me."

I frowned, stepping closer. "What are you talking about, Michael?"

He thrust the envelope at me, his eyes blazing. "This! Ryan gave me this before he left. I opened it, and it’s a goodbye letter! Along with our freedom contract, if he completes this assignment. But he won’t, will he? He said where you’re sending him and what for, Vincent…. You said he was safe!"

My heart sank. The situation was spiraling out of control faster than I could manage. "Michael, let me explain—"

"Explain?" He cut me off, his voice rising. "You sent him on a suicide mission! You told me he was safe, and now you send him to his death? Why? To get rid of him, so you can keep me here forever? Was last night a taste of it to see if you liked it, or just a way to appease your guilt?"

His words struck like daggers. I felt a surge of anger rising within me, battling with the remorse I had been trying to suppress. "Michael, you don't understand—"

"No!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "I understand perfectly! You’re a monster! You used me, lied to me, and now you’re sending my brother to his death!"

My temper flared, the control I prided myself on slipping away. "Enough!" I shouted, my hand moving before I could stop myself. The sound of the slap echoed in the room, a harsh punctuation to the chaos.

Michael staggered back, clutching his cheek, shock and pain mingling in his eyes. Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating. I took a step back, breathing hard, the weight of my actions sinking in.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," I said coldly, though the conviction in my voice wavered. "This is my world, and you don't get to question my decisions."

He looked at me, heartbreak and betrayal etched in every line of his face. "I thought you cared about me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I thought... I thought you were different."

The words stung, but I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not now. "I do what I have to do," I replied, turning on my heel and leaving the room, the door slamming behind me.

---