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His eyes dart up to meet mine, a devilish smile slipping onto his face before he focuses on what he is doing. He removes the other heel, his hand sliding down my calf to my ankle as he lifts my foot, doing the same before slipping the flats onto my feet. Surprisingly, they fit perfectly, making me wonder how he knows my shoe size. I let that thought slip away, deciding I probably didn’t want to know.
“Thank you,” I mutter when he rises, passing my heels to the woman who places them under the counter.
“Thanks Jacinta,” Milo tells the woman, who nods, pushing the tray of chips toward me.
Grabbing it, I turn around to see Milo smirking down at me.
“Good luck, you’ll need it,” he laughs, sauntering off.
I reach the table, slipping into the player’s role as if it were my second skin. The click of chips and murmur of wagers become my world, and I play each hand with precision, my fingers a blur of motion as I take down each table, yet something nags at me. Why is there no one at the far back table that is on a podium? I find it odd as I sit down at the last table.
I am so close that I can almost taste victory when I spot Leone, who comes and stands beside me. My heart races with nerves and anticipation, knowing victory is within my grasp and that freedom comes down to this last game. But a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that it won’t be that simple.
I push the thought aside and focus on the game before me. The two men opposite me are good players, but I’m determined to come out on top. I calculate my odds with each hand and continue to make moves, raking in more chips with each round. It’s all in the bluff.
Leone looms over me, his dark eyes never leaving the table. I can feel his intense heat burning into my back, almost suffocating me with its weight. But I refuse to let him intimidate me.
As the night progresses, tension fills the air, thick and palpable. The remaining two players at the table shift uneasily, their eyes darting between their cards and the towering figure of Leone beside me. It’s as if they can sense the invisible force that surrounds him, a force that has propelled him to become one of the most feared figures in the city.
Just before the final hand is dealt, my phone rings. The ringtone tells me it’s the hospital, and I scramble from my seat, looking for it only to remember Leone has my phone still. He arches an eyebrow at me. I grit my teeth, but he makes no move to retrieve my phone from inside his jacket pocket. The ringtone teases me, and after its fourth blaring ring, I know it’s going to go to voicemail. Before I realize what I am doing, my hand moves to his jacket.
He watches me dig through his pockets and I freeze momentarily, waiting for him to hit me for what I am doing. Instead, he seems amused, raising an eyebrow at me. “Top left one,” he says, and I move to the other side of his jacket to grab it; I answer it, pressing it to my ear.
“Hello?” I answer, my voice trembling with a mix of hope and apprehension while my eyes dart to Leone’s watchful gaze. Someone moves out of my periphery, but he shakes his head at them, warding them off.
“Fallon, we’ve tried your father, but you’re listed as Emma’s next contact,” a soothing voice says on the other end. It’s Dr. Stevens, the surgeon in charge of her case.
“Correct,” I reply.
“We’ve received some incredible news. A heart has become available for Emma.” I take a deep breath. I can’t believe this is happening, especially after this evening. Finally, some good news for Emma.
My heart skips, and I can hardly believe what I am hearing. The weight of years spent waiting for a transplant suddenly lifts off my shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief. I clutch the phone tighter, trying to steady my voice.
“That’s... That’s wonderful,” I reply, tears welling in my eyes. “But how long until the surgery?” And where the fuck am I going to come up with the money for it?
Dr. Stevens pauses for a moment before responding, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. “You need to settle the bill first, Fallon. I’ve tried to go to the board of directors, but..... We understand that it’s a significant sum that you and your family have been struggling with. Once we receive confirmation that it’s been taken care of or financial assistance has been provided, we can proceed with the surgery immediately.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing as I consider the cost that hangs over my head like a dark cloud. But this is my sister’s chance at a new life. I’ll have to find a way somehow. I turn away from Leone, emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
“Fallon, are you there?” Dr. Stevens asks.
“I’m still here,” I breathe out.
“Just don’t cancel her surgery; I’ll come up with something,” I say firmly, wiping away the tears that threaten to spill over. “I won’t let this opportunity slip away.” My voice is a broken whisper at the last part.
“Good to hear. You have until 7:30 AM when the heart arrives,” she tells me, and I hang up. My mind races, wondering if I win this if I can trade myself to Leone to have him cover the debt; it’s not like he can’t afford it, though I cringe at the thought of being pimped on the corner, but if I had to...
“Everything alright?” the dealer asks, and I nod, retaking my seat. Leone holds out his hand for my phone. I chew my lip, wanting to keep it.
“I won’t use it. Please, that was her surgeon; they found Emma a heart,” I plead with him.
“Did they now? What are the chances…” he states. He drops his hand and steps aside, letting me keep my phone. I leave it on the table where he can see it so he knows I intend to keep my word and not try to alert the police or Marcus.
Returning my attention to the game, I nod to the dealer. Luck must be on my side because the next set of cards falls perfectly in my favor. A pair of aces stares back at me, a promising start to what could be my winning hand.
Leone leans closer, his breath tickling the back of my neck. “You’re doing well,” he whispers huskily, his voice filled with warning.
I quickly glance at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing excitement and something else flickering in his eyes. It’s then that I realize that he, too, wants me to win this game, but why? Perhaps there’s more at stake for him than just being a spectator.
