Page 56 of High Stakes

“Are you okay?” I ask her, and she nods while I light her smoke.

She draws back on the smoke, and Milo winds down her window a bit. “Yeah,it was just a shock.”

“Are you going to tell your father?” I ask. She turns her gaze to the window again.

“I’m not sure if I should,” she murmurs. We spend the rest of the drive in silence, I have so many questions, but I doubt more than Fallon.

The cold night air follows us into the mansion, wrapping itself around us like a shroud as we step inside. The tension from the casino still lingers, clinging to my skin like the faint scent of smoke that trails behind me from Fallon’s smoke. Every musclein my body is wound tight, my instincts screaming that the night isn’t over yet, that there’s still more to unravel.

I flick my gaze around the room as we enter, my senses on high alert when no one greets us at the door. My mind is a swirling storm of possibilities, scenarios of how her mother got involved with the Russians.

But the immediate danger is already here, waiting for us in the form of my father and Dante, who both stand near the fireplace in my sitting room, their expressions a mix of impatience and concern. My mother sits quietly on one of the plush armchairs, her hands folded in her lap, but her eyes—sharp and clear despite everything—betray her worry.

“Why are you all here?” I ask. Milo’s expression tense as he guides Fallon to sit, placing himself protectively beside her.

Rocco hangs back near the door, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. We all know the night isn’t over yet—not until we’ve figured out what the Russians were really after.

My father steps forward, his gaze narrowing as he stares at me, waiting for an explanation. “What the hell happened tonight?” he demands, his voice a low growl.

I meet his gaze head-on, my mind racing through the events at the casino. There’s too much I don’t know—too many pieces of the puzzle missing. I can’t risk revealing too much, not until I have all the facts, but the fact the Russian knew Penso was last seen at my club tells me we have a rat, and I have a strange feeling it is my brother. My father certainly wouldn’t have told them.

“They were fishing,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “Looking for information.”

My father’s eyes flash with anger. “Information on what?”

“Penso,” I say, watching for his reaction. “The Russians were tipped off to me killing him.” my eyes dart to my brother, but he gives nothing away.

A flicker of surprise crosses my father’s face, quickly masked by his usual stern demeanor. “Penso, the man from the club?” his eyes dart to Fallon.

“Yes,” I say smoothly, though my thoughts are churning. The Russians were too insistent, too certain. Someone must have told them about Penso’s last known location, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.

“Why would the Russians care about Penso?” Dante’s voice cuts through the room, sharp and suspicious.

I glance at my brother, my eyes narrowing slightly. He’s standing too close to the shadows, half-hidden in the flickering firelight. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in his stance that I don’t like.

“Because he’s their brother,” I reply, my voice hard. “Mikhail’s half-brother.”

“How many siblings does the bastardo have? Didn't his parents have a damn TV?” My father mutters.

Dante raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk that sets my teeth on edge. “You didn’t know that; sloppy of you.”

“Did you know,” I ask, watching him carefully. I don't recall seeing Penso at the wedding, nor was he mentioned over the years as a relation to them. Clearly his fathers dirty little secret. Dante smirks. He's been a thorn in my side for years, and his ambitions are always running counter to mine. And now, with the Russians making their move, I can’t help but wonder if he’s involved. The timing is too convenient.

“Why would he know that? Not like we are keeping a running tab on their family tree,” Vittorio presses, his gaze boring into me.

“Maybe we should be,” Dante chuckles. I shrug, keeping my expression neutral, while my father turns to look at him.

“And where have you been? You were supposed to meet us at the casino tonight to meet Dominic?”

Dante’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Handling business.”

“What kind of business?” I ask, my tone sharp. I don’t trust him, not with everything that’s been happening.

“The kind you don’t need to worry about,” Dante replies smoothly, his gaze flicking to Fallon and Milo, who are sitting so close together she is practically leaning on Milo. His eyes narrow slightly, and I feel a surge of possessiveness rise within me.

“You look cozy,” Dante tells Fallon. She sits up straighter, and Milo takes half a step from her.

“Watch yourself,” I warn, my voice low.

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