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I nod, understanding the unspoken message – my family’s lives hang in the balance, and my compliance is their lifeline. It’s a sobering realization, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on me, suffocating, a silent undercurrent that promises an inevitable surrender. My heart races, pounding against my rib cage as though trying to escape the confines of this moving cage and the future it barrels toward.
“You’ll comply,” he assures me.
“You mean I will be persuaded?” I manage, my voice steady despite the tremor I feel inside.
His lips curve into a smirk, one that doesn’t quite reach the coldness of his eyes. “There are many forms of persuasion, Fallon. Some… more pleasurable than others.”
EIGHTEEN
FALLON
My skin prickles with dread and an unwelcome flush of heat. Leone’s reputation with the ladies is as notorious as his ruthlessness. Word around the casino painted him as a man who could coax the panties off a nun, and here I am, trapped in his orbit, wondering if even my fortified willpower stands a chance. I’ve seen plenty of girls hanging off his arm at the clubs, yet now I am expected to be one of them.
Turning his attention momentarily to his phone, fingers dancing across the screen.
“Remember, Fallon,” Leone continues without looking up from his device, “everything has its price. Your cooperation included.”
“Are you saying you’d resort to bribery then? And not blackmail, though they are the same to me.” My own question sounds hollow, naive even. What wouldn’t a man like Leone do?
“Let’s call it incentivizing.” His chuckle is like gravel, gritty, and hard. “You’ll find I’m very resourceful regarding... negotiations.”
We reach a stoplight, and as cars halt around us, time seems to slow down. The red glow bathes the vehicle’s interior, casting shadows across Leone’s chiseled features—shadows that seem to dance and mock my predicament.
“Negotiations imply I have something you want,” I say, trying to grasp any power I might hold.
“Indeed, you do. Your womb.” His gaze locks onto mine again, and I feel laid bare, seen in ways that strip me of defenses. The light turns green, and we lurch forward. My mind races with unspoken curse words and thoughts. But I know better than to voice them aloud.
“You speak so sure of yourself like I will just give in and give you what you want,” I mutter.
“You will, and willingly,” he adds, typing away without glancing at me.
The car speeds through the night, weaving between the city lights that blur past my window. Every muscle in my body is taut as I navigate this new life. I’m expected to go along with where Leone Pressutti dictates the rules. My mind is a whirlwind of fear and defiance, but when I glance at him, he’s the epitome of control, his eyes never leaving his phone, even as Milo hits a pothole.
“Well, you’ll be dead from old age before I give in,” I retort, and his lips curve up.
“We’ll see.”
“But if you’re waiting for my ‘willingness,’ doesn’t that defeat the purpose of your end goal if I don’t give you an heir?” The words tumble from me before I can restrain them.
Leone smirks, his confidence unshaken. “You’ll provide one,” he states, certainty lacing every syllable. “We don’t need to have sex for you to get pregnant.”
How can he say it so matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather or the outcome of some inconsequential bet? His assurance sends a chill down my spine, and I can’t help but wonder about the extent of his reach, the lengths he’d go to bind me to his will.
“Artificial insemination?” My voice is steady, but the revulsion is clear. The idea of being nothing more than a vessel for Leone’s legacy is abominable, as is the thought of being pinned down and my legs strapped to a table while someone comes at me with a turkey baster of his spawn.
“Science has its uses,” he replies with a shrug as if the creation of life is just another transaction in his ledger.
“Is that what this is to you? A business deal?” I press, unable to hide the disgust curling my lip.
“Everything is a business deal, Fallon.” His tone is chillingly casual, and he glances at me, eyes gleaming like polished obsidian in the low light. “But don’t worry, I always honor my contracts.”
“Contracts don’t include forced pregnancy!” Anger flares within me, hot and fierce, pushing back against the cold dread.
“Who said anything about force?” he counters, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “I simply stated a fact. You will bear an heir. How we arrive at that point...” He trails off, letting the implication hang heavy between us.
“Are threats the only language you speak?” I shoot back, folding my arms defensively across my chest.
“Threats, promises, persuasion...” He ticks them off on his fingers, the gesture unsettlingly deliberate. “They’re all part of the game. And make no mistake, Fallon, this is a game you agreed to play the moment you stepped into Verdigris and into my world.”
