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“My drivers will pick you up before the wedding. I’ve organized a suit for you,” Leone tells my father, who awkwardly thanks him before I am dragged out of the hospital.
The cold touch of the evening breeze wraps around me as we exit the building, leaving behind the sterile smell of antiseptics and the soft beeping of hospital machinery. Milo’s firm grip on my elbow guides me through the parking lot, his presence as solid and unyielding as the life I’m being dragged into. Leone strides ahead, a shadow cast long by the streetlights, filled with dark intention.
Reaching the car, Milo opens the back door, and I climb in before sliding across the seat. “Thank you for not scaring her by telling her the truth,” I whisper, my voice barely finding strength as I turn my gaze to the window of the car, seeking comfort in the blurred cityscape.
“Now, why would I scare her after all the trouble I went to finding her a heart?” Leone’s voice is smooth, almost soothing, but it sends a shiver down my spine. “I usually stay away from that trade.” His nonchalance as he taps his phone screen clashes with the turmoil inside me.
“Excuse me?” My voice breaks through the silence that follows, disbelief, coloring every syllable. Milo drives on, expressionless, trained eyes scanning the road, but I sense his attention is partially on our conversation.
“Your sister has been waiting for a heart for years, yet one miraculously shows up hours after you enter the underground games. Where else do you think I found one?” Leone doesn’t look at me, but his words slice through the air, sharp and precise.
A sickening feeling knots in my stomach. “You killed someone for their heart?” The question spills out, tainted with horror and accusation.
“No, someone volunteered theirs in exchange for money for their family.”
“Why would someone do that?” I ask in disbelief. He sets his phone down, and the weight of his gaze finally meets mine as he turns to look at me.
“Because they were already dying, he had a good heart that was a match for her; I bought it, paid for the surgery, and your sister lives, so instead of accusing me of murder, how about “thank you, Leone.” The way he says ‘Thank you, Leone’ mocks me, an echo of expected gratitude.
“Thank you, Leone,” I murmur, a lump forming in my throat. My gratitude is overshadowed by knowing someone died sooner than needed and the depth of the debt I owe this man. But I am grateful she has a second chance.
“You’re lucky Milo has a soft spot for you. It made me hesitate. Or I would have let her die, killed your father, and you’d be in a brothel somewhere with a dick in your ass.” His bluntness is brutal, a verbal slap that stings. “So the least you could do is smile tomorrow so the photos don’t look too tragic in the papers when we send them.”
I catch Milo’s eyes in the rearview mirror, searching for some flicker of sympathy, but he looks away too quickly.
However, turning to look back at Leone, I see his eyes are two dark pools in the dim light, reflecting a world where kindness is a currency I cannot afford. The silence stretches between us, taut and electric, until he finally speaks again, and I brace myself for the impact of his words, knowing I probably won’t like them.
“In the morning, I’ll send for your father; he can help you get ready,” Leone tells me.
The leather of the car seat grips the sundress I’m wearing as I shift uncomfortably. The city lights streak past, blurring into a cascade of neon that mirrors the turmoil inside me. My heart thunders in my chest, a frantic drumbeat echoing the dire straits I’m in.
“And after the wedding, then what?” The words spill out before I can contain them. I want to claw back some control from the chaos, even if it is merely knowing what comes next.
Leone’s attention snaps to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes my question. “What do you mean?” His voice is a low growl, a sound that sends shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car’s heater, which is turned on.
I swallow hard, my gaze sliding back to the cityscape outside the window, trying to find the words without offending him further.
“Do we have to consummate it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, dreading his answer.
There’s a pause, and I can feel the weight of their stares; both Leone’s dark, inscrutable eyes and Milo’s intense gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Not until you’re willing,” Leone finally says, his response surprisingly gentle compared to the harshness of his earlier words.
Relief washes over me in an icy wave, but it’s quickly tainted by suspicion. How could a man like Leone, who wields power like a weapon and sees people as pawns, possibly mean such a thing? Is it another one of his cruel games?
“Define ‘willing,’” I ask, trying to mask the quiver in my voice. I need to understand his game and predict his moves if I am ever to survive this twisted world I’ve been forced into.
A smirk plays on Leone’s lips, and his eyes gleam with something dark and unreadable. “Well, I’d much prefer desire in your eyes instead of hatred, but either will do, I suppose.”
My skin prickles at the thought. Desire? For him? A predator in a sharp suit who holds my family’s fate in his hands? Yet, a part of me wonders, against all reason, about the heat that could lie beneath his cold exterior, despite not knowing exactly what that heat feels like. However, I certainly know the cold feel of a barrel violating me and his tongue on my body.
“And if that never happens?” I question hoping he means his words, but I know there will come a point where he’ll stop making excuses if he wants heirs.
Milo’s voice breaks through my thoughts, steady and calm. “We can be persuasive, Fallon.”
I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes. Persuasion. As if any choice offered by these men could come without strings attached, without the looming threat of violence and coercion.
“Laugh all you want,” Leone says, his tone now edged with steel. “But remember that this deal has conditions. And not just for you.”
