Page 36 of High Stakes

She sets a load of washing on and quickly leaves the room, only to head into the kitchen next. That’s when Rocco enters through the front door. His phone would have blared at movement in the house, especially when so many doors started opening.

I signal for him to stay quiet, and he nods in understanding before walking toward me. He climbs the steps silently and glances at my phone screen. “It’s Fallon. Go back to bed, I can handle her,” I tell him, and he yawns, striding back to the doorand slipping outside again. Rocco lives in my guest house out the back of the main.

Once alone again, I watch as Fallon gets a drink of water from the kitchen and then walks back out into the hall, where she stubs her toes on the edge of the hall stand, the vase on top rocking back and forth. She barely catches it before it’s about to shatter on the floor, only as she sets it back, she bumps the side and a hidden gun beneath the hall stand falls to her feet. Fuck! I move a step-down, about to snatch it off her as she picks it up. I know it is loaded and worry gnaws at me now that it’s in her hands, wondering if she would try to use it to leave.

She looks panicked, holding it in her hand but manages to stuff it into a drawer and starts making her way back toward the stairs. Seeing her heading back to bed, I quickly make my way back into our room. Only now to realize the blood-stained sheet. With a sigh, I walk into the bathroom, grabbing a towel. I place it over the ruined sheets and climb back into bed, watching on my phone as she rummages for linen in another part of the house.

When she finally re-enters our room with a towel clutched in her hands, she stops short at seeing one already placed on the bed. She rushes toward Milo, waving her hand in front of his face. Recognizing he is still asleep, she visibly stiffens as her eyes dart to me watching her. I stare at her, and she stares back for a moment.

“I ruined your sheets,” she blurts. Her fear of my reaction bothers me more than it should, as I watch her hold up the towel like she is presenting me with evidence she was doing nothing wrong.

“Anything else?” I ask her casually. She chews on her lip nervously.

“I knocked over your vase, but it didn’t break,” she tells me like I would care about her breaking vase. She glances at the bedlike she isn’t sure if she is allowed back in it now that she ruined my sheets.

“I also stole your clothes…” she blurts. “Your pants are comfier,” she adds after a moment, gazing up at me with uncertainty.

Chuckling lightly, I pull back the blanket invitingly for her: “I can see that.”

Her gaze flicks to the inviting space made for her, and then back to my eyes. She swallows hard, setting the towel aside and finally climbing back into bed. She tries to keep as much distance between us as possible given the space, but I feel the heat radiating off her, nonetheless. It sends an unexpected jolt through me, stirring up a wave of possessiveness I can’t seem to tamp down as I pat the bed beside me, wanting her closer.

She looks at the space warily, “I’m not going to bite,” I insist with an arched eyebrow, trying to lighten the heavy air in the room.

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes flickering to mine again and she scoots closer. The tension is palpable, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. “You didn’t steal my gun,” I tell her, and she peers up at me.

“I put it in the drawer,” she answers.

“I saw.” Her brows pinch, but she doesn’t question how I know, she just accepts it.

Fallon’s tension eases just a fraction at my casual acceptance of her transgressions. Not that they were transgressions to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles after a beat, tucking herself in next to me, her body heat radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Don’t be,” I say finally, my hand finding her waist beneath the covers. Her breath hitches at the contact, and I can feel herpulse thundering beneath my fingers. “You can have what you want.”

It’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep when a small voice breaks the quiet. “As long as it isn’t leaving.”

The words hang in the air between us like an accusation. My heart stutters painfully in my chest. It’s clear she’s not content with being a prisoner in my home. My mind races with the consequences of her question, but I push them aside.

“You’re safe here, Fallon,” I reply calmly, though each word feels like a punch to the gut. She doesn’t respond, and after several long moments, her breathing evens out, indicating she has fallen asleep.

As sleep refuses to claim me, I find myself watching Fallon. Even in sleep, her face betrays how nervous she is in my grip, her hands pressing against my chest, and she doesn’t move, almost as if even in her sleep, she is aware of whose grip she is in. It frustrates me because she isn’t this tense in Milo’s grip.

I hate seeing her this way – scared, vulnerable. But who could blame her? She is forced into her boss’s house for trying to save her sister by playing house with me and Milo.

As I lay there watching her, my mind races to the possibilities. Can I keep her here without breaking her like my father broke my mother? Without turning her into a shell of the strong, determined woman she once was. My grip around her tightens at the thought, the material of my shirt crumpling under my fingers and she whimpers, making me realize I’m crushing her against me when I feel movement on the bed. Milo, not feeling her wakes startled, quickly spotting her, he lets out a breath and scrubs a hand down his face moving closer only to notice the towel. He lifts it before recovering the spot and moving closer.

“I didn’t even feel her move, I was dead to the world,” he mutters.

“You didn’t hear her steal your key either,” I tell him, and he looks at me. I shake my head and press against her back, his hand falling on her hip.

“She won’t run,” he murmurs.

“You seem so sure.”

“I am, I think she panicked the first time,” he admits, and I glance down at her. She buries her face in my chest, and I sweep a stray lock from her face. Despite myself, a small smile forms on my lips as she snuggles closer to me.

“We’ll see,” I tell him, getting comfortable and closing my eyes.

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