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“Please, I’ll do what you ask, but do they have to watch?”
A wicked smile curls on Leone’s lips, and he gestures towards Milo. “Did you hear that, Milo? The little girl is ready to do anything but doesn’t want an audience.” He laughs as if that is the most foolish thing I could have said.
Milo’s stony stare remains fixed on me, devoid of any sympathy. Leone leans down, his face mere inches away from mine. His breath brushes against my cheek as he whispers, “You don’t seem to understand, Fallon,” he murmurs coldly, pulling away.
Leone’s smile fades slightly as his eyes narrow into dangerous slits as he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “In my world, there are no second chances. You either play by my rules or suffer the consequences.”
My heart beats faster and skips at his words, and tears well in my eyes as I glance over at my father lying unconscious on the floor.
“Sometimes playing by the rules makes people desperate,” I whisper, turning my gaze back to Leone’s. He tilts his head to the side, observing me.
“My father is a good man; he’s worked for you for a decade. But everyone does stupid things when they are scared, Mr. Pressutti.”
“And who could your father possibly fear more than the man he worked a decade for, Ms. McCallister?”
My lip quivers. This man is known for being heartless. We are mere ants to him, so I know nothing I say will make him have mercy, yet still, I try. “How much did he steal?” I ask, and Mr. Pressutti glances at the woman.
“One million, four hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars,” she answers, and I swallow.
“Does that answer your question?” Leone asks.
“It tells me why,” I answer. Mr. Pressutti’s brows pinch confused, but of course, they would. This isn’t the sort of man who gets to know those who betray him; he’s the sort of man who kills without remorse.
“Now, why would he need that kind of money, especially after you took out the tables at Verdigris last night?”
I swallow, holding his gaze.
“Nice little trick by the way. It took me four times watching that footage to realize you were counting the cards at the blackjack tables but the last table when you played Penso?” His thumb brushes over my bottom lip gently.
“You had a losing hand, and you swapped cards,” he smiles cruelly, “I must admit, you have nice technique; I wouldn’t have known until I watched the footage of you leaving and caught you tossing the card in the bins.”
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.
“You never answered my question, Fallon,” he adds, and my breath comes in tiny rasps.
“Next to the computer, the mail there,” I tell him, my eyes burning with tears I refuse to let fall. Milo wanders to the small desk in the corner and picks up the open letter next to the printer. He pulls it out and hands it to Mr. Pressutti, who does up his pants and then takes it. I let out a breath of relief, knowing he isn’t going to stuff his cock down my throat. At least not yet, anyway. He reads it while I rub my arms, not daring to move, knowing it’s pointless.
“She’s your sister?” Mr. Presutti asks, glancing at me.
“Yes, her name is Emma. She’s waiting for a heart transplant; that money he stole is the cost of it. Please, you have your money. I have the money from Verdigris. You can have it back. Just let my father live,” I plead. He nods toward one of his men, who moves toward the stairs and stops.
“Where is it?” the man asks, but my gaze remains on Leone as I answer.
“Duffle bag in the linen closet,” I say, feeling defeated.
The man leaves and returns moments later with the bag, dropping it at Mr. Pressutti’s feet. He glances at the letter in his hand, shocking me with his following words.
“He did this for his daughter?” I nod my head, knowing now she’ll die alone once he kills us.
“You said you’d do anything?” he tells me, and my gaze snaps to him.
“Let’s test that then?” he says. I suck in a breath, knowing what I have to do, and I reach for his belt, but he steps back. I look up at him questionably. “Let’s play a game.”
“Boss?” Milo asks, stepping forward, but Leone raises his hand.
“A game?” I ask. He nods once, glancing at the paperwork and handing it back to Milo.
“What do you want from me if I lose?” I demand, and my hands clench at my sides.
