Page 58 of High Stakes

Milo doesn’t need me to finish the sentence. He knows what will happen if Dante betrays me, as well as I do.

We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on us. The Russians, the tension with Dante, the potential betrayal—it’s all too much, and I can feel the stress gnawing at me, threatening to unravel everything I’ve built.

“I need to find out what the Russians are really after. And I need to know if Dante’s involved.”

Milo sighs, his expression grim. “I’ll start digging. I’ll also keep an eye on Fallon.”

“Good,” I reply, my mind already racing with plans and contingencies. “We have to figure out how her mother got involved and keep that quiet. I don’t want Dante to find out they are related.” He nods, and he stares past me to the window of the dining room. My father steps out, lighting a smoke, Rocco is watching Fallon, who is speaking with my mother.

Twenty

Fallon

The next morning

Leone sits at the head of the table, his expression stoic as he sips his coffee. Vittorio is next to him, his sharp eyes assessing the room with a calculating gaze. Lorenzo and Dante are seated across from me, their faces unreadable, though Dante’s eyes flicker with something darker as they occasionally land on Milo and me.

We eat breakfast in near silence, the only sounds being the clinking of cutlery and the occasional murmur of conversation when I notice Gina hasn’t joined us.

“So,” Vittorio finally breaks the silence, his voice commanding as he glances over at Leone. “The meeting with the Mexicans—do I need to be worried?”

Leone shakes his head, setting his coffee cup down with a decisive clink. “No. The Mexicans are more concerned about the Russians encroaching on their territory. They want to ensure we won’t be siding with the Russians in any deals.”

Vittorio seems thoughtful for a second. “Good. We need to keep them on our side, especially with the Russians moving in on our shipments.”

“It will be handled,” Leone replies, setting his napkin aside. “Where’s Gina?” I ask, my voice small in the large room.

Vittorio turns to me, his expression softening just slightly. “Lorenzo dropped her home this morning,” he says. “She’s resting. It’s been a long few days for her.”

I nod. Gina’s absence makes me uneasy, but I don’t press the issue further, knowing it’s not my place. I hate the tension in the room. At least with Gina, it isn’t so suffocating.

Milo, who’s been quietly eating beside me, speaks up. “I’ll get ready to go with you,” he says, standing as if to leave the table.

But Leone quickly shakes his head, his tone firm. “No, Milo. Stay here with Fallon. I want you to keep an eye on things. Remember, Dominic is picking up Sienna today. I don’t want any issues, especially with Rocco.”

Milo meets Leone’s gaze for a moment, then nods in understanding. “Of course,” he replies, though there’s a slight tension in his posture.

Leone then looks at Dante, his expression hardening. “Dante, you’ll meet us at the casino. I want you and Lorenzo there with us.”

Dante nods, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Understood.”

As everyone finishes their meals, I rise to clear my plate. I take it into the kitchen, my mind buzzing with the conversation I’ve just overheard.

Leone follows me into the kitchen. As I place my plate in the sink, he steps close, his hand brushing my lower back as he leans down to kiss me softly. “Behave,” he murmurs against my lips, the words both a warning and a promise.

I nod, my throat tight as I watch him leave, his broad shoulders disappearing out of the kitchen door. Milo entersshortly after, his plate in hand. He places it in the dishwasher before turning to me, with a hint of a smile.

“Shower?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as he cups my face gently.

I hesitate only for a moment then nod, the tension in me easing slightly under his touch.

Just as we are about to leave the kitchen, Dante appears in the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watches the exchange between us. I stiffen, instinctively stepping away from Milo, but not before Dante’s gaze hardens, suspicion flickering in his dark eyes.

“Are you two going somewhere?” Dante asks as he sets his plate in the sink.

Milo keeps his expression neutral, but his body tenses slightly. “Just heading upstairs,” he replies casually, his hand sliding to the small of my back as he pushes me toward the door; we head up the hall to the stairs.

“What’s up with him?” I ask Milo

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