Page 50 of High Stakes

“Yes, now get dressed before I change my mind.”

Eighteen

Fallon

The casino’s opulence glitters around me, a stark contrast to the tension coiled tight in my chest after the drive here; something is going on because Rocco, Milo, and Leone spoke not one word on the way here, Rocco seems to be in a particularly bad mood.

The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars, perfume, and the subtle undercurrent of danger that always seems to accompany Leone wherever he goes. I walk beside him, my arm looped through his, feeling the weight of every gaze that lands on us. There’s a possessive edge to the way he keeps me close tonight, a clear signal to anyone watching that I belong to him or maybe something is going on that he hasn't mentioned.

Milo is right behind us, as always, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any threats while Rocco walks ahead of us. The tension in the air is palpable, a tangible thing that seems to cling to my skin.

Leone’s hand tightens around mine as we make our way through the casino, his dark eyes flicking around the room with the practiced ease of a man who is always in control. But I cansense the unease beneath his calm exterior, the way his muscles are coiled tight like a predator ready to strike. There’s something different about tonight—something that sets my nerves on edge.

We stop near one of the high-stakes poker tables, and I feel Leone’s hand slide to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks in a low, warning tone.

“Stay close,” he murmurs. “And please behave.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Whatever has Leone on edge has me on edge, too. I can’t afford to slip up tonight, not when I’m so close to earning even a sliver of his trust.

“Why, what is happening?” I whisper.

“Nothing. I have a meeting with my father and Sienna's. He is coming to collect her, but my father wanted to speak to him and make sure there will be no repercussions of me killing Marcel.”

“Why would there be repercussions?” I ask.

Leone’s lips brush my ear as he murmurs, “Because Marcel’s death wasn’t sanctioned. It was impulsive, and there are... implications.”

“Implications?” I echo, trying to grasp the gravity of his words.

He pauses for a moment, his hand tightening on mine. “Marcel was a player in a delicate balance of power, Fallon. Killing him without permission disrupts that balance. His death leaves a void, and there are many who would be eager to fill it—many who won’t be happy that I’ve interfered.”

I swallow hard, the weight of what he is telling me sinking in.

As we enter the private poker room off the main one, I notice the atmosphere change immediately. The room is dimly lit, with a long table in the center with plush chairs surrounding it. Sitting at the head of the table is Vittorio, Leone’s father,his imposing presence filling the space. But it’s the man seated opposite him who catches my attention.

“Dominic,” Leone greets with a cold nod. “It’s been a while.”

Dominic must be Sienna’s father. His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly combed back, and his eyes are sharp and calculating. He’s dressed impeccably, the kind of man who exudes power without needing to raise his voice.

Leone’s grip on my arm tightens as we approach, and I’m acutely aware of the fact this is the man who holds Sienna’s fate in his hands.

Dominic’s eyes land on me briefly before he looks back at Leone with a small, tight-lipped smile. “Leone,” he acknowledges, his voice smooth and dangerous. “I see you’ve brought a companion.”

Leone’s gaze hardens slightly as he introduces me. “This is Fallon, my wife.”

Dominic’s eyes flick to me again, assessing me with a quick, appraising glance and nodding curtly. “A pleasure, Fallon,” he says, though there’s a coldness to his tone.

Leone pulls out a chair for me beside him, and I sit, feeling the weight of Dominic’s gaze on me as he studies me like I’m a piece of meat.

“Your father said he wanted to meet me to make sure there is no bad blood about you holding Sienna,” Dominic says, turning his attention back to Leone as he shuffles a deck of cards with practiced ease. “Marcel’s death has caused quite a stir, Leone.”

Leone’s expression remains stoic, though I can feel the tension radiating from him. “Marcel was a problem that needed to be dealt with anyway; it would have only been a matter of time for him. He was becoming reckless, especially after that cargo ship went down,” he says coldly. “Your daughter overstepped, and he paid the price. Or would you rather I ended her?” Leone states.

Dominic nods thoughtfully, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the table. “Marcel may not have had a family, but he was well-connected. His death has left ripples in the underworld—ones that could come back to haunt all of us.”

Leone’s eyes narrow slightly, his voice taking on a more dangerous edge. “I’m not concerned with repercussions; I’m not part of that trade. Marcel’s influence was built on the backs of others’ suffering. His absence will be a blessing to more than just me.”

A tense silence settles over the room as Vittorio and Dominic exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. I sit quietly, trying to absorb the weight of the conversation, understanding that in their world, even a dead man can still cast a long shadow.

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