Page 30 of High Stakes

Suddenly, a sharp cry breaks me out of my thoughts. I flinch at the sound, instinctively turning around. My heart hammers in my chest as my eyes take in the sight in front of me.

Leone has the girl bent over the table, her wrist twisted behind her back at an unnatural angle. She cries again, her mascara-smeared eyes wide open in terror and cherry-red lipstick smeared across her face. Her blonde hair is disheveled and falling out of its meticulously styled updo.

Her skimpy cocktail dress rides up her thighs, sequins glinting under the lights as she squirms under Leone’s grip. The fear is palpable on her painted face, but there’s something else, too: embarrassment.

“You were warned last time. Disrespect my wife again…” Leone snarls into her ear, his voice dangerously low and full of menace. “I will slice up that face of yours, which is your only asset.” My heart thumps rapidly against my chest and I watch in horror as the girl’s eyes well up with tears, her body trembling under Leone’s relentless grip. An uncomfortable silence falls over the room, punctuated only by the girl’s soft whimpering.

“Then we’ll see how many tips you get then,” he adds with a cruel grin.

The girl whimpers, nodding her understanding, and Leone releases her with a disgusted push. She stumbles forward, catching herself on the edge of the table before rushing out of the room as fast as her high heels will allow. It’s then when Milo returns and glances around at the quietness of the table.

“Jesus, so much drama tonight. Anyone would think this place is a circus,” Vittorio comments, digging his handkerchief from his pocket and passing it to Milo. Milo takes it, looking at him questionably when Vittorio touches the collar of his own shirt.

“You’re not usually sloppy, Milo. Rule 1: try not to wear your victims in public,” Vittorio says, and my eyes go to Milo’s shirt only to glance away.

“Bastard tried to run,” Milo comments, cleaning his collar. He curses when he only makes it worse.

“Go, take Fallon with you; I’m sure she’s had enough excitement for one night. I will drop Leone home,” Vittorio tells him, but Milo looks at Leone, who nods.

I move to get up, excited to go home if it means getting away from Dante and Vittorio when Leone jerks me toward him. I nearly fall into his lap, but he holds me steady and then captures my chin.

“We’ll talk when I am home,” he tells me, and I nod once, wondering what punishment he’ll dish out next. He then leans closer, brushing his lips against mine softly.

“Go. I won’t be long.” Leone lets me go, and I move toward Milo.

When I reach him, he steps closer. “What happened?” I shake my head, and he says nothing, but when I steal a glance at him, I can see he is tense at Leone’s comment.

“I won’t let him put you back in the basement,” he whispers, and I sigh. I wish he wouldn’t make promises we both know he can’t keep. There is nothing he could do if Leone did lock me in the basement again. I know it, and he knows it. The basement is a constant threat hanging over me, a place of darkness and isolation which terrifies me to my core.

Milo’s words, though well-intentioned, are a flimsy shield against Leone’s actions. I can see the worry etched in Milo’s eyes, the fear of knowing he can’t protect me from the man who commands him. His loyalty to Leone is as strong as his affection for me, creating an impossible conflict. And one I doubt I would win in the end.

“I appreciate you saying that,” I whisper back, my voice trembling with the weight of our shared reality. “But we both know if Leone decides to send me back there, nothing will stop him.”

Milo’s grip on my hand tightens, his expression pained. “I’ll find a way,” he insists, but the desperation in his voice betrays his uncertainty. “I won’t let him do this to you again.”

We leave the room, and I feel Leone’s penetrating gaze on my back until we are out of his sight. Milo leads me toward the elevator; the silence between us is as deafening as the pounding in my chest. How long would it be before Leone’s cruel nature turns its attention to me?

As soon as the elevator doors close, I lean against the mirrored wall, trying to calm my racing heart. In the reflection, I see Milo watching me closely. His calculating eyes studying my every move.

My gaze shifts away from him and to my own reflection. My once vibrant blonde hair is now dull and lifeless, my skin pale under the harsh light. Underneath Leone’s tyranny, I had lost more than just my freedom; I had lost myself.

The ding of the elevator pulls me out of my self-pitying thoughts as we step out into the underground parking lot. Milo ushers me out, and we walk in silence toward his car parked at the back wall, where I notice a few different expensive-looking cars, making me wonder how many cars they own exactly. The night is cold and unforgiving, but not as much as what awaits me inside Leone’s house. At least for a few days, I won’t have to worry about Leone trying to impregnate me with his vile baster insemination tool for his devil spawn.

Milo opens the car door for me. I hesitate, but then I remember his promise. He won’t let Leone hurt me again. So I climb into the black leather seat and fasten my seatbelt, praying he meant what he said. I don’t think I can handle being back in the basement, back in the dark, and I curse myself now for talking back to his father.

The car ride is silent, but it isn’t awkward, unlike earlier. It seems like Milo understands the chaos swirling inside my head and gives me the silence I need to gather my thoughts.

Twelve

Once we reach Leone’s grand mansion, Milo turns off the engine but remains sitting still in his seat. He turns to me, and there is something different about him tonight—a softness replaces his usual stoic demeanor.

“Fallon,” he begins, turning his gaze to meet mine. “I know you’re scared. Terrified even.” He pauses, staring down at his lap. For a moment, I think he won’t continue. But then he inhales deeply. “I know you didn’t ask for this life, but please try. I’m not saying you need to forgive him, but don’t make this harder on yourself. The more you fight him, the worse he’ll get.”

“Is my father still alive?” I ask him. “Or did Leone only say that because he needed me to behave in front of his father?”

Milo sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Your father is perfectly fine.” He pauses for a second and stares vacantly out the window. “Leone knows you’d do anything for your family. He also knows killing them will make you disobedient; he’d have no leverage to make you compliant. Leone may be cold and an asshole right now—” he stops short as he knows full well he shouldn’t say more.

“But what?” I ask. My anxiety is already high, knowing he wants me awake when he gets home. I doubt it’s for a friendly chat.

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