Page 51 of High Stakes

“I assure you, I covered our tracks, nothing will come back on you or me,” Vittorio tells Dominic.

Dominic leans back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the cards in his hands. “And what of Sienna?” he asks, his voice casual, though I can sense the underlying tension.

Leone’s posture stiffens slightly, his jaw ticking as he replies. “She’s being returned to you, as agreed. But I want to know—who is this new man you’ve arranged for her?”

Dominic’s smile is tight, and a predatory gleam is in his eyes. “Anton Volkov.”

The name sends a tremor of tension through the room, and I feel Leone’s grip on my knee tighten reflexively. At the same time, Rocco, who had been standing silently by the door, suddenly tenses, his hands balling into fists as he moves closer.

“Volkov?” Leone repeats, his voice low, and I can hear the anger he is trying to hold back. “You’re giving her to that piece of shit?”

Dominic’s expression doesn’t change, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps. “Volkov is powerful and influential. Sienna will be well cared for.”

“Cared for?” Rocco snarls, stepping forward before Leone shoots him a warning glance, his hand raised in a silent command for Rocco to back off. Rocco’s jaw clenches, but he obeys, though his anger is palpable.

Leone’s eyes bore into Dominic’s, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he tries to maintain his composure. “Volkov is known for his… brutality,” Leone says coldly. “You’d let her marry a man like that? Sienna would be his, what, his fifth wife?”

Dominic’s smile widens, though there’s no warmth in it. “Anton Volkov has his… preferences, but he’s also a man of his word. The contract is binding, Leone. Sienna will be his wife, and that’s the end of it.”

Leone leans forward slightly, his voice low and menacing. “What if I want to keep her? She’s been with my men, under my protection. She’s become… attached.”

Dominic’s eyes narrow, his tone growing colder. “Attached or not, she’s not yours to keep. The contract has already been signed, and I have no intention of breaking it. Sienna will marry Volkov, and you will not interfere.”

A heavy silence falls over the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel the anger radiating off Leone, the frustration at being unable to protect Sienna from the fate that has been sealed for her.

Finally, Leone nods, though I can see the barely restrained fury in his eyes. “Very well,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

Dominic meets Leone’s gaze evenly, the tension between them crackling in the air. “Volkov knows the consequences of crossing me. She’ll be perfectly safe,” Dominic replies, his voice equally cold. “And he’ll do what’s necessary to keep Sienna in line.”

The conversation ends there, the weight of the decision settling over the room like a dark cloud. Leone’s hand grabs mine as he rises from his seat, his expression hard as stone.

“I’ll be by to pick her up tomorrow,” Dominic states, and Leone’s eyes dart to Rocco, who looks away but nods once.

“Enjoy your game, Dominic,” Leone tells him before turning his back on them.

As we approach the main gaming floor, I notice a shift in the atmosphere. The usual murmur of conversation is quieter, the tension in the air tightening like a noose. My pulse quickens, and I glance around, trying to pinpoint the source of the unease.

And then I see them.

A group of men has just entered the casino, their presence causing unease as everyone looks in their direction. They’re dressed in sharp, tailored suits, but there’s an unmistakable edge to them—a cold, calculating menace that sets them apart from the other patrons.

Leone pauses for a second, taking them in. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Russians,” Leone all but spits.

Milo notices them too, his body tensing as his hand hovers near his concealed weapon. Leone’s grip on my waist tightens, his eyes narrowing as he watches the group make their way toward us.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Milo whispers, his voice barely audible.

“They’re on the wrong side of the city,” Leone replies, his tone icy. “So I know they’re not here for the slots.”

The leader of the group steps forward, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair and cold blue eyes that scan the casino with a calculated air. There’s something predatory about him, a sense of danger that makes my skin crawl.

Leone steps forward, subtly shielding me with his body as the Russian approaches. Milo is right beside him, his gaze locked onto the newcomers, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Mr. Pressutti,” the Russian greets, his voice smooth with a heavy accent. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Leone’s response is cool; his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re on the wrong side of the city, Mikhail,” he says, his tone carrying an edge of warning. “What brings you here?”

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