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“Now, such actions come with consequences,” the man from earlier says. “Lucky for you, Mr. Pressutti is feeling lenient and may look past your mistake at Verdigris the other night, but your father, not so much,” he adds.
It is then that he emerges from the hall, stepping forward with the poise and confidence of a king approaching his throne. Leone Pressutti—his name is a curse upon many lips, a prayer on others. His dark hair falls perfectly in place, framing a face that could have been chiseled from stone, except for the twisted smirk that plays on his lips.
“Fallon,” he purrs, his voice rich and deep, sending shivers down my spine. “Lovely home you have,” he chuckles. Though I doubt he means his words, the place is barely furnished since we sold nearly everything of value trying to come up with Emma’s surgery money.
“Mr. Presutti,” I manage to say, my body tense as if ready to spring into flight. But where would I go? The predatory amusement in his eyes tells me I am trapped, and there will be no running. This is underscored by Milo’s appearance, who enters and leans casually on the door frame.
FIVE
FALLON
Mr. Pressutti walks around the room. He swipes his fingers over the mantle above the fireplace. He looks at his fingers, which have gathered the dust.
“I’m afraid your father has been rather careless,” Leone says, almost casually, as if discussing the weather. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning his fingers, looking appalled at the mantle. He then circles me, his steps deliberate, each echoing.
“A failed theft is still a theft, Fallon. And in my world, we don’t take kindly to thieves. Now the question I want to know is if I am only killing one person tonight or two?” he asks, and my brows furrow. He crouches beside me.
“Your father crossed the wrong man, which leaves me questioning if you knew and helped him?” he asks. I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat, and I glance at my father behind me, my hands finding his body as I use my own as a shield to protect him. Tears spring in my eyes at the thought of him killing my father.
“Please,” I whisper, hating myself for the plea in my voice, “There must be some mistake. My father isn’t a thief.” But his name tag is in that bag, and they wouldn’t be here unless they knew for sure.
“Did you know what your father had done?”
I shake my head, and he looks at Milo over his shoulder before rising to his feet. He nods to Milo.
“Kill him, take the girl,” Leone orders, and my scream is loud when I see Milo step out from behind his boss.
“Wait, wait, don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything, please,” I beg, jumping to my feet and grabbing Mr. Presutti by his shirt, my hands fisting the thick white fabric. And the room falls deathly silent as he peers down at my hands gripping him. I follow his gaze, realizing my mistake and quickly let him go, staggering back only for him to snatch my wrists in a vice-like grip.
Mr. Pressutti’s grip tightens around my wrists, his eyes narrowing with amusement and annoyance. “You dare put your thieving hands on me?” he sneers, and I whimper, tears spilling over and running down my cheeks.
“Please!” I beg, trying to get him to let go. Instead, he backs me up until the back of my knees hits the armchair, and I fall into it. He let me go, his legs trapping mine between them.
“Anything you say?” he taunts, the skepticism clear in his voice.
I swallow hard, trying to steady my trembling voice. “Yes,” I reply, my words barely audible.
“Prove it.”
My brows furrow as I look up at him. He raises an eyebrow at me as I try to understand his meaning.
“Please, just spare my father’s life.”
“And I said prove it,” Mr. Pressutti taunts. Milo pushes off the wall and steps closer.
“Leone?” Milo asks, but Mr. Pressutti’s gaze doesn’t stray from mine as he answers.
“She said she’d do anything. I want to see how far she would go to save her father,” he states.
“How?” I stutter out.
“I want proof you’ll do as I say; use your imagination, Fallon; you’re a clever girl.” He smiles wickedly, and my eyes widen when he snatches my hand, placing it on his crotch.
I feel the hard bulge beneath my hand, and I swallow nervously. Scanning the room, I take in all the faces watching me, waiting to see what I will do. My lip quivers when he lets go of my hand, and I gaze up at Leone pleadingly.
“Well, what will it be?” he asks, and my hands shake as I reach for his belt, my fingers struggling to undo his buckle. The mere thought of having to blow him in front of people makes my face burn with humiliation.
“Anyone would think you don’t know what you’re doing, cara mia. Hurry up,” he taunts. Little does he know, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never seen a cock in the flesh before, let alone put one in my mouth. A whimper escapes my lips as I finally get his belt buckle undone. I reach for the zip and tug it down.
