Page 55 of High Stakes

As I approach the main gaming floor, I see a crowd gathered around a blackjack table, the tension in the air thick. Leone and Milo are standing near the table, their eyes locked on the Russians with thinly veiled hostility.

The Russian boss spots me, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. “Ah, Mrs. Pressutti,” he says smoothly. “We were just about to start a little game. Care to join us?”

I glance at Leone, who gives me a small nod, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. I know he’s watching me closely, trying to gauge my reaction to the Russians.

I force a smile and step up to the table. “I’m always up for a game,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

The Russian boss gestures for me to take a seat when I see my mother dragged toward Mikhail; he turns and glares at her.

“I was using the restroom,” she huffs, and my heart rate picks up as I watch their exchange when he forces her into a chair not far from me while I try to figure out the change of events and why we are suddenly playing blackjack.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce my wife. This is Rebecca,” Mikhail says.

“I actually just met Fallon; she was in the bathroom. You need to get cleaners in. They were out of paper; I would still be stuck in there if she wasn’t in the stall next to me,” my mother lies smoothly. I offer a smile. But I feel Leone’s gaze burning intome and Mikhail’s on my mother. What the fuck is going on right now.

“I hear you used to be a dealer here, that you played my brother and won?” Mikhail says, and it takes me a second to realize he is talking to me. I nod once.

“It’s how I met my husband,” I answer.

“See, and you thought we had nothing in common, Leone,” Mikhail laughs. “I met Rebecca here the same way, though she cheated me, then tried to rob me,” he laughs wickedly. His hand drops on her shoulder then squeezes. I swallow thickly.

“Luckily for her, she rubbed off on me,” he tells her, and she forces a smile as she glances up at him.

The cards are dealt, and the game begins. Rebecca’s eyes flicker to mine. She’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not now.

The game is intense, each card bringing us closer to a conclusion that could have far-reaching consequences. I can feel Leone’s gaze on me, his silent support a steadying force. But it’s Rebecca’s presence that haunts me, her every movement a reminder of the betrayal I can’t forget.

As the final cards are dealt, I glance at Rebecca, our eyes locking for a brief moment. There’s something in her gaze—an apology, a plea for forgiveness—but I push it aside, focusing on the game.

With a slow exhalation, I reveal my hand.

Blackjack.

The crowd murmurs in surprise, and the Russian boss’s smile falters ever so slightly. He nods, a glint of respect in his eyes as he acknowledges my victory.

“Well played, Mrs. Pressutti,” he says, his tone polite but laced with a hint of menace. “It seems the game is yours.”

The crowd begins to disperse, the tension in the air slowly easing as the game concludes. But I know better than to let myguard down. This temporary truce is just that—temporary. The Russians are playing a long game, and this was merely one move on the board.

As I rise from the table, I feel Rebecca’s hand brush against mine, a fleeting touch and I have to fight the urge to jerk my hand away. I glance at her, and she gives me a small, sad smile then quickly turns to leave with the Russians.

I watch her go, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling inside me. She’s back in my life, but she’s still as much a stranger as she was before.

Leone steps up beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back as he guides me away from the table. “What was that about?” I ask, wanting to know how we went from trying to get rid of the Russians to playing blackjack with them.

Leone doesn’t answer but leans in slightly.

“You know her?” he asks, and I nod. Milo casts a glance at me as he opens the door to the elevator. We step inside, and Rocco pushes the button.

“Fallon? Rocco said something happened, and I want to know how you know that woman,” Leone demands, and I swallow thickly, noticing Rocco and Milo watching me too. I glance at Leone. Just as the doors open, I answer.

“She’s my mother.”

Nineteen

Leone

After Fallon’s confession about Rebecca, no one said anything. We seemed to be in just as much shock as her. Fallon is quiet in the car on the way home, her brows furrowed as she thinks staring vacantly out the window. I offer her a smoke and she looks at me for a moment then accepts one.

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