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Leone’s hand moves casually, plucking another cigarette from the pack. Ignoring Fallon’s sharp retort, he flicks his lighter, the small flame dancing between his fingers for a second as he snaps the zippo shut. He inhales deeply, the orange ember flares to life. He flicks the pack in my direction without looking away from her.
“Here,” he says, the word has more command than offer.
I catch the packet midair, my fingers brushing against the cardboard. I watch, heart hammering against my ribs; Leone addresses Fallon again, his voice low and laced with a threat that sounds too much like a promise and sets me on edge.
“You’ll have to quit once you’re pregnant; I won’t have you harming our unborn child.”
Fallon’s body goes rigid, the smoldering cigarette nearly forgotten between her fingers. My gut clenches at the sight—her vulnerability obvious against Leone’s cold certainty. She shifts uneasily, distancing herself as she takes a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs scattered across the balcony. Her movements are cautious and deliberate, as if the chair could shield her from the weight of Leone’s gaze and the future he has planned for her.
The silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating, making the cold air icy as his glare holds her hostage.
Finally, Fallon draws on her cigarette. Her green eyes are hard and challenging when she turns back to face us. “When?” The single word is loaded, a bullet in the chamber and I can see she wants to fire it right at Leone.
I bite down on my lip to still the anxious tremor. They stand locked in a stalemate. One wrong word and this precarious balance could crumble and Fallon could find herself free-falling from three level ups into the rose bushes below.
Leone doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. “When fate decides,” he replies coolly as if discussing the weather and not the bending of life to his will.
“Leone,” Fallon’s voice slices through the silence, returning me to the present. “I don’t—” She doesn’t finish, but instead, glares out at the darkness.
I light my own cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs.
“Are you on birth control?” Leone’s voice is calm. I know if he could he would knock her up tomorrow to ensure his empire.
Fallon’s laugh is sharp, bitter. “Why would I need birth control when I haven’t had sex before?” she spits, but there’s an edge to them that doesn’t go unnoticed.
Leone just shrugs, the movement casual, but his eyes are anything but. “Some girls use it to control their periods. It was only a question.”
“So I guess by that question, you won’t allow me birth control.” She isn’t happy at the implication, her body language screaming resistance to the very idea of pregnancy thrust upon her.
“Well, you’re less likely to get pregnant if on it, so no.” Leone’s reply is cold, uncaring for her view on it.
I watch, silent, as Fallon chews her bottom lip, looking out over the manicured gardens below. The shadows cast long lines across her face, and for a moment, she looks like she might cry—but she doesn’t.
She tosses her cigarette off the balcony with a flick of her wrist, standing up and heading for the door. But Leone is faster; he grabs her arm, pulling her back with a force that speaks more than words ever could.
“You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be mine,” he warns. I know if she jeopardizes any potential pregnancy Leone won’t hesitate putting a bullet in her head.
“Just because I know doesn’t mean it’s what I want.” Fallon rips her arm from his grip.
“Even though I knew... I wasn’t expecting you to want a baby straight away. Why not adopt? You don’t need me for a kid,” she argues back, a flash of desperation in her eyes.
“A baby deserves a mother,” he returns.
“No, some are better off without one,” she laughs, but it’s hollow, haunted. “God only knows what I’d do to mine if I ever crossed her path again.” She snarls.
Confusion flashes across Leone’s face, matching my own furrowed brows. Without another word, she storms inside. We all head inside, the tension is thick enough to suffocate as Fallon emerges from the bathroom, hesitating at the sight of Leone who sprawls on the bed. Fallon looks at the couch, and Leon sighs heavily before speaking. He doesn’t have to say much. “Don’t make me get the handcuffs.” She doesn’t move.
“One,” Leone starts counting, and she curses under her breath but climbs over me to settle in the middle, giving him her back.
“Two steps forward, 10 back with these two,” I mutter. We lay in awkward silence for a second when Leone finally speaks.
“Some mothers don’t deserve to be mothers, Fallon. I understand that, but I believe you would be a good one.” There’s a gravity to his voice that belies the threat lurking beneath.
“But if I think for one second that you are jeopardizing any pregnancy or our baby when it arrives, I won’t hesitate to get rid of you,” he tells her. I know he is thinking of Lydia, which makes me glance at him.
“Don’t make me regret that decision by allowing you to live after; I don’t want to have to explain to our child one day why I had to kill its mother.” Fallon tenses beside me.
“Now sleep,” Leone orders, ending the conversation as darkness envelops us.
