Page 67 of High Stakes

“Not until I get some answers,” I say firmly, cutting off any further discussion. “When I know more, I’ll let you see her. But until then, she’s safer where she is.”

Nathan opens his mouth to protest, but something in my expression silences him. He nods slowly, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he realizes he has no other choice.

As Nathan leaves my office, the gnawing feeling in my gut intensifies. There’s too much at play here, too many variables I don’t fully understand. And until I do, I won’t rest. Not until I have the answers I need to protect what’s mine.

Twenty-Four

Fallon

Three weeks later

The mornings have become unbearable. Each day begins the same way: a rush of nausea that leaves me clinging to the edge of the toilet bowl, my body convulsing as I empty what little I have in my stomach. This isn’t normal, even for the stress I’d been under. But deep down, I know the truth, a truth I am not sure I want to face. The signs are there—my missed period, the ache in my breasts, the overwhelming exhaustion that seems to seep into my bones.

I’m pregnant.

The realization has come slowly, creeping in on me like a shadow. And as much as I try to push it away, to deny what I know is happening inside of me, it becomes impossible to ignore. A part of me is terrified; the idea of bringing a child into this violent world, into a life controlled by Leone and his ruthless empire, is more than I can bear. Yet another part of me—one I barely acknowledge—feels a flicker of something else. Hope, maybe. A strange sense of purpose.

But I can’t tell Leone. Not yet. The first weeks of pregnancy are the most uncertain, and I need time to think to prepare myself for what this will mean. I need to keep it to myself for now until I am sure. I hate to think of getting his hopes up only to squash them, or he thinks I jeopardized the pregnancy if I miscarry.

When Maria knocks on the bathroom door, her voice is laced with concern; I force myself to stand. “Fallon, are you okay? You’ve been so sick lately.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I think it’s just a virus. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She pushes the door open, and Maria’s eyes narrow with skepticism, but she doesn’t press me. “If you’re not feeling better soon, you should see a doctor.”

That’s when an idea strikes me. I could see a doctor under the pretense of checking for a virus. It would give me the chance to confirm the pregnancy without raising suspicion, and I could have time to plan my next move. Leone knows I have been sick and, thankfully, hasn’t put it together as to why since he’s had the constant distraction from the Russians and his father. Something is going on; after Leone rejected what the Russians asked, they’ve had constant issues. Leone hasn’t been able to get any shipments in or out, each one intervened. I know he believes someone on the inside is helping them.

Later that day, when I approach Leone in the office downstairs, I’m careful with my words. He looks up as I enter, shutting his laptop.

“What’s wrong? I haven’t got time for tantrums today, Fallon. I will see if Rocco can take you to see Emma tomorrow,” he says flatly, opening an envelope and pulling out some papers.

“No, it’s not that,” I begin, keeping my tone casual. “I think I might have picked up something—maybe a virus. I want to see if I can see Dr. Stevens to get a script.”

Leone looks up from the stack of papers he is reviewing, his brow furrowing slightly. “A doctor? You still feel sick?”

I chew my lip nervously.

He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to discern the real reason behind my request. I hold my breath, waiting for his response, knowing without his approval, I am not leaving this place.

Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll have Milo take you.”

Relief floods through me, though I keep my expression neutral. “No, it will have to be Rocco; Milo is helping my father run the casino while I try to figure out this mess. I will have Rocco call Dr. Stevens.”

Rocco doesn’t question Leone’s decision to have him accompany me, nor does he pry into my symptoms. For that, I’m grateful. The last thing I need is more questions.

We arrive at the hospital, and I learn Dr. Stevens has his own private practice inside the hospital. The waiting room is quiet, with only a few other patients. Rocco stays close, his presence a mix of casual ease and quiet vigilance, but he barely says anything to me on the drive, so I know he is still upset about Sienna.

“I’ll wait here,” he says as I stand to follow the nurse. “But if you need anything, just call out.”

I nod, offering him a small smile and quickly following the nurse into the examination room. Dr. Stevens greets me warmly.

“So, Fallon, what brings you in today? Leone said you’ve been sick and wants me to report back to him,” he asks, taking a seat behind his desk.

“I’ve been feeling unwell,” I explain, keeping my tone even. “Nausea, fatigue… It feels like it might be a virus.”

Dr. Stevens nods, jotting down notes on his clipboard. “We’ll run some tests, just to be sure. I’ll take a blood sample and check for any infections.”

“Anything else I should be looking out for?” he asks, giving me a knowing look.

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