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The spark ignites, the smoke fills my lungs, and for a moment, everything else fades away. Sienna watches me, her expression curious. “What’s your story with Leone?”
“Against my will,” I say flatly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’m supposed to provide an heir, then be discarded.”
Shock registers on Sienna’s features, horror painting her usually impassive face. “Jesus, Fallon... not that I can talk, it’s not like I have a choice either.”
“Life’s a bitch, then you marry one,” I quip without humor.
“Then don’t get pregnant,” Sienna says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “He won’t kill you until you provide a baby, right?”
My heart hammers against my ribcage. “And exactly how would I do that?” I scoff, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me.
“Good point,” she concedes with a quick glance back through the curtains to the debauchery inside. She bites her lip nervously, clearly weighing her next words. “So, are you planning to escape?”
“If I can,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I have a feeling Leone will lock me up the moment he knocks me up.”
Sienna’s eyes dart around before she rummages through her bag. In one swift motion, she pulls out a small box and shoves it into my hands. “I didn’t give you these,” she states, her voice tense.
“Quick, hide them. There is a three months’ supply there. I can get more.” My fingers brush over the foil strips. Birth control pills. Our shared reality as nothing more than vessels for their legacy is now painfully clear. “Why are you helping me?” I ask, suspicion and gratitude warring within me.
Her gaze flicks around nervously, likely fearing her husband’s watchful eyes. I tuck the box into my bra, adjusting the top of my black sequin dress to hide the evidence of our conspiracy.
“Because,” she exhales heavily, a look of resolve crossing her features, “if you get out, I need you to get a message to my father.”
Before I can press her for more details, the curtain is violently ripped open, and Milo’s glare pierces us both. “Your husbands are looking for you,” he growls.
“Doubtful,” Sienna huffs but doesn’t resist when Milo grabs her arm, and mine pulls us back into the chaos.
Inside, the sight of Sienna’s husband receiving oral favors from a stripper sends a shockwave of disgust through me. I shake off Milo’s grasp, anger boiling beneath my skin.
THIRTY-ONE
FALLON
“Fallon!” Milo snarls after me, but my focus is laser-sharp on the stripper provocatively perched on Leone’s lap, her hands tugging at his belt.
“Leone!” I storm over, ignoring the questioning arch of his eyebrow. Seized by a fury I’ve never felt before, I grab the girl by the hair and yank her away from him. I see nothing but red, the frustration of the past week boiling over, my cheeks hot with humiliation. She shrieks and swings at me, but I’m quicker—my fist connects with her face, sending her staggering back.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Leone stands, his grip ironclad around my arm.
“Me? What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I spit back, defiance blazing in my chest when the girl I hit suddenly appears in my periphery, but before her hand can strike me, Leone snatches her wrist.
“Try that again, and you’ll lose a hand,” he warns her, and the girl glares at me before ripping her arm from Leone’s grip. He turns to face me, and I see the moment he does that I just fucked up big time and will pay for it.
Without another word, Leone motions for Milo and points to Sienna’s husband. “Stay here while I deal with her.” Leone seizes my arm and drags me through the crowds. We leave Sienna’s husband with a dismissive wave, his attention already returned to the pleasures of the woman with her lips wrapped around his cock.
As he marches me back upstairs to his office his grip only grows harsher, he says nothing which has me more on edge, he opens the door. The office door slams shut behind us, and I’m unceremoniously thrown onto the couch, my heart racing, breaths coming hard and fast. The tension crackles between us, dangerous and alive.
“What the fuck was that?” he growls, towering over me with his fists clenched at his sides.
“What? Am I expected to watch you fuck whores and then bring home whatever diseases they give you?” I shoot back defiantly.
“You don’t have the right to lay a hand on my girls, Fallon,” he growls, advancing on me when I scramble back until I’m against the wall.
“Do not ever embarrass me like that again,” Leone snarls in my face. I feel the sting of his hand colliding with my cheek, my head jerking to the side, stunned at his outburst.
“You hate me, yet get jealous the moment another girl is in my lap!”
I am still horrified that he slapped me, my cheek burning violently. Tears spill down my cheeks, and he wipes them away roughly with his thumbs.
