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“It’s a hospital,” I remind him.
“Exactly, and those here do not need more drama when they are already vulnerable; I don’t want to kill anyone, but you try to walk off like that again. You will force my hand and make matters infinitely worse for yourself,” he warns, leading me toward the doors, where I see two security guards. His hand slips from a tight grip on my arm to find my hand. Yet, as we come to the doors, he tosses his arm across my shoulders, tucking me closer. Security nods to him, and he leans into me, his lips moving to my hair.
“Behave,” he warns, yet to anyone passing, it would look like he is merely being affectionate. I swallow thickly; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come to visit my sister and father. As we make our way through the halls, I lead Milo to the ward she is in. Yet, as we enter, I stop at the sight of her, fighting back emotion.
The room is sterile and cold, but the sight of my sister’s frail form resting against the crisp white sheets ignites a warmth within me that I haven’t felt in days. Emma’s eyes, so similar to mine, sparkle with life—a life that was almost torn from her. My father sits beside her, his hands folded tightly in his lap, the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. But for the first time since I’ve been pulled into Leone’s dark world, there’s a glimmer of hope I haven’t seen in years.
“Fallon!” Emma squeals, and my father’s head snaps in my direction. I remain rooted to the spot, half expecting to see the same girl as the last time I was here, yet she has more color to her cheeks than the deathly pallor she usually wore. A sob escapes my lips as I rush to her, my arms wrapping around her tiny frame. She hugs me back with more strength than I’m used to, yet still weakly.
“Who’s your friend? Is that Marcus, the dude from the Casino?” Emma asks as I pull away.
I’d forgotten Milo’s presence until he spoke, his voice gentle as he introduced himself to Emma, “Hello, Emma. I’m a friend of your sister’s. I’m Milo,” he says, cutting me a glare at the mention of Marcus.
Emma, not seeing his lie, smiles at him, and I can tell Emma’s curiosity is piqued as she studies Milo before looking back at me with a knowing smile. “A friend, huh?” she asks. For a moment, Emma’s innocence - and therefore ignorance - is refreshing. My father and I always managed to keep the bad stuff away from her; she’s already been through enough with her illness. I didn’t need her concern for me to cause extra stress on her heart.
Milo chuckles but adds nothing. Thankfully. I don’t say anything, not wanting Emma to worry about me. He moves to take a chair at the back of the room. My father glances at him and swallows before turning his attention to me. His nervousness with Milo here is obvious.
“Firefly,” Dad greets me, rising and hugging me so tightly it’s almost like he is trying to absorb me just to hide me from Milo’s watchful gaze.
“Dad, she is not twelve,” Emma laughs at him, calling me by my nickname.
“Regardless, she has always been and always will be my little light,” Dad tells her, and I sit on the edge of her bed. Emma flicks the remote onto the show she and Dad were watching before giving me a rundown of the five seasons she has watched; I nod and feign excitement with her, not wanting her to see my unease.
Hours pass with laughter, and Emma talks on and on about life at the hospital, the shows she watches, and the nurses she likes and doesn’t like. Her chatter offers me a brief respite from the darkness. But that peace shatters when Leone strides into the room, a force of nature that seems to suck away all the air. Seeing Emma glance over my shoulder, her eyes wide, I peer back and rise instinctively, positioning myself between him and my family as though my body could shield them from his malevolence.
“Leone,” I say, my voice barely masking my fear, as he nears, and my palms press futilely against his chest as I glance at Emma over my shoulder, who stares at him questionably; my father is a tense statue in his chair as he eyes Leone, eyes darting to Emma and me like he doesn’t know whether to thank the man for saving Emma or attack him for taking me.
Leone halts, and his gaze drops to mine, those piercing brown eyes searching my face. Instead of the harsh words I expect, his lips find mine in a gentle caress. “Afternoon amore mio,” he murmurs, and behind me, Emma giggles.
“Fallon has a boyfriend? I knew something was up when you kept saying you were working instead of visiting me,” Emma teases while our father looks on, the color draining from his face.
“Fiancé, actually,” Leone corrects smoothly, pulling me closer into his embrace as his arm slips around my waist. The word feels like a prison sentence, tightening around me with an iron grip.
“We’ll be getting married tomorrow,” Leone tells her, and I see the shock on my father’s face before he schools his features.
“You’re getting married?” my father asks, and I see the color drain from his face a little. I bite my lip. It looks like he wants to scream and protest, but knows that would create a scene.
“So Milo isn’t your boyfriend? Damn, I was so sure with the way he watches you,” Emma states, and I stiffen. Leone laughs, and I quickly answer, not wanting him to blurt out their arrangement.
“No, Milo is a friend… I’m marrying Leone,” I whisper the last part, hating hearing the words leave my own lips.
“Sucks that I’ll still be in here,” Emma pouts.
“We’ll make sure it’s filmed. I’m sure your father will bring you the footage tomorrow.” My brows pinch confused, and my eyes dart to Leone, wondering what game he is playing now.
Leone turns his gaze back to Emma. “It’s only a small ceremony; you can be part of the bigger celebration later on,” Leone tells her, and she looks at him excitedly.
“Dad will be there?” I ask. And Leone holds my gaze.
“Of course, I don’t think your father will miss the chance to give his daughter away, right, Nathan?” Leone asks, looking at my father. But my gaze goes to Milo, who nods once at me, which is the only indication that he spoke to Leone on my behalf.
“Yes… Please go, Dad. I want to see the footage; I want to see Fallon all dressed up. I’ll be fine,” Emma tells him.
Leone’s hold on me tightens, and I feel the last vestiges of my control slipping away as he pulls me to sit on his lap in a chair next to Milo. He acts like we are some normal loving couple and my family isn’t being held over my head. This man, this monster, has orchestrated every moment leading up to this. I’m caught in his snare. But as much as I loathe this predicament, there’s a small part of me that thrills at his touch, remembering the first moment he touched me in that dark gambling den. The way his body commands space, the way he can simply take control of a room and those in it without missing a beat yet has enough sense not to intimidate my sister shows two very different sides of him, which I find disarming.
The tension in the room is as thick as the air before a storm, charged with a dangerous energy that seems to pulse from Leone’s very being. I can feel Milo’s presence beside us, silent and watchful, like a shadow that looms large despite its silence. Yet, Emma doesn’t seem to notice as she talks excitedly about me getting married, not realizing this is all a sham and that my life was bartered for hers. And she’ll never know.
Eventually, though, Leone excuses us, and I hug Emma and give her a kiss that she wipes off. However, I am afraid it might be a long time before I see her again, if at all.
