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A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Leone’s face. “That’s where the opportunity I’m offering comes in,” he tells me.
“I’d rather die than be owned by you,” I whisper, hating how powerless I feel.
“With that mindset, you’ll be dead within the month. There’s no escape for you here,” he states, his voice like a caress of silk and steel. “You are mine now. So either you obey or….”
“Or what?”
“We go with the alternate option. So your choice, Fallon. I don’t usually deal in sex trafficking, but you owe quite a substantial amount. So either you belong to me or I hand you over to my men, so they can strap you to a bed to earn my money back before slaughtering you and dropping you in a ditch somewhere.” He lets the words sink in, watching as the realization dawns on my face like a slow sunrise.
“Would that be much different from this option? You’ve already got the strapped to the bed part completed.” I glare at him.
“Vastly, with me, you’ll have a choice. My men won’t give you one, nor will they let you choose who fucks you.” I blink at him, trying to figure out where this choice is because I don’t think there is one. Either way, I’m fucked, literally and figuratively.
“I’m failing to see how sleeping with you would be a choice.”
Leone laughs, the sound making my skin crawl at the dark edge to it. “The difference is that being my whore will be far less painful. We won’t be trying to hurt you. You’ll be safe and off-limits to anyone else besides Milo. Milo’s infatuation with you ensures you’re safe with him.”
“And you?” I ask, weighing my options. None seem appealing, but I stand a better chance of escape here than I do in some shady hotel strapped to a bed.
“I’m not Milo, but as I said, I won’t be trying to hurt you…. Unless you force my hand, which I suggest you don’t. You may be a woman, but if you cross me, I will be as brutal as if you were a man. You don’t want to end up chained to a cold steel table with me standing beside you,” he warns.
His words echo in my head, haunting me as much as his presence does. Belong to him or take my chances with god only knows who, depending on who he hands me to. The thought makes my blood ice-cold. Despite the heat that slowly spreads between my thighs. I’ve known who Leone is for years since I started working for him. I’ve heard the rumors and seen some questionable things that we all know to turn a blind eye to.
Like the number of people I’ve seen forced into the darkest parts of the casino, never to be seen again. So I know this is probably the only mercy he’ll show me. Despite knowing all this, though, something about him draws me in. I think about last night with him and Milo - terrifying but somewhat exhilarating, feeling things I’ve never felt before.
“So what will it be? Should I have Milo drop you to the nearest brothel?” He asks like I have an actual choice in this. I swallow thickly, a lump forming in my throat. I say nothing, just glare at him.
“As I thought.” He leans back, watching me.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be taken into the city to pick out a dress. You’ll have Milo with you since he, too, shall be part of this agreement,” he states.
“A dress?”
“Yes, or you can wear nothing. The choice is yours, or I can kill your father. Either option is fine.” he shrugs.
“I said I would do whatever you asked, so stop threatening my family.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he folds his arms across his chest, seemingly unfazed by my outburst. “Yes, you did agree,” he acknowledges, his tone dripping with a hint of mischief. “But are you willing to make that official?”
Confusion washes over me, further adding to my mounting anger.“What? Yes, I’ve told you this!” I snap, growing angrier.
“Good, and that better be your answer on the day then,” he says cryptically, but I’m sick of playing this little game.
“Just spit it out, Leone. What aren’t you telling me?” If I’m going to make this decision, I want all the facts.
He rises from his seat, his tall figure looming over me as he walks towards me with deliberate steps. His piercing gaze never wavers, locked onto mine. The intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
“Tomorrow morning, Milo will take you to find a dress,” he begins, his voice low and laden with implications. “And then, you’ll marry me.”
My breath catches in my throat at his words, the weight of their meaning sinking in. This man had to be joking. I look up at Leone’s looming figure, standing above me. A familiar scent, a blend of musky cologne with hints of smoke and leather, fills the room, intoxicating yet darkly terrifying.
Leone’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my skin. “Don’t fight it,” he husks, his voice sending a cascade of flutters through my body. His hand trails up my thigh, igniting tingles along the way before settling on the thin strip of fabric separating us. With gentle pressure, he pushes it higher, exposing more of my vulnerable skin.
His voice, low and seductive, resonates against my jawline. “Your blood-stained skin is beautiful,” he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers tease my underwear, tracing patterns that taunt and torment from below. A tremor runs through me at his touch, my body betraying my unease.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I try to mask the tremor of fear in my tone.
A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as he meets my gaze. “I’m showing you how it feels to be owned,” he answers, his words dripping with dominance. “To be claimed by the one who holds all the power.”
