Page 28 of High Stakes
In the bathroom mirror, I barely recognize myself. My hair hangs loose around my shoulders, tangled and matted from dried blood and sweat. My eyes are swollen, and the whites are stained with red, and heavy bags weigh them down. I clean myself up as best as I can. My thoughts wander to the chilling reality of my situation. Despite being surrounded by people, I have never felt more alone and vulnerable. There is no escape from Leone—he made that abundantly clear.
The cold water from the sink stings against my skin as I wash away the evidence of tonight’s events. The coppery scent of blood is replaced by the sterile smell of soap.
Reinforcing the old adage; appearances can be deceptive, I fix my hair and wash my face, striving for normalcy in an environment that is anything but. Finally presentable, I stepout of the bathroom and notice the floor isn’t busy tonight. I peer over at the tables, expecting to see my father with his cart. Disappointment fills me when I don’t. Sighing, I shut the door, turning for the stairs when I stop in my tracks. My heart drops into my stomach when I see him leaning against the wall, a smug smirk plastered on his face.
Eleven
“I
thought I was seeing things at first,” Devon Penso says—a lump forms in my throat. I remember the last time I saw him, the guards had to hold him back from killing me. Turning, I try to leave. “Running off so quickly?”
My mind races as he strides toward me, cutting off my path to the stairs leading me back to Leone’s office - or hell, as I’ve started to think of it. Shit, where is Rocco or Milo when I need them, I ask myself, only to remember they are in the VIP lounge.
“Hey bitch, I’m talking to you!” He calls out, moving with predatory purpose in my direction. I quicken my steps, trying to recognize someone to wave them down when he grabs my arm. However, I know, causing a scene, Leone will do more than hit me with a belt if I embarrass him again, especially now I know his father is here.
He drags me toward the corridor, and panic sets in. I thrash, only for him to whirl around and slap me. My ears ring, and my face burns.
“You owe me—” I don’t let him finish as he tosses me over his shoulder; I sink my teeth into him as hard as I can. He lets go inshock, crying out, and I don’t wait to see what he’ll do. Instead, I take off for the VIP section. He calls after me, but I keep running, drawing strange looks from those I push past. Seeing the velvet curtains, I shove through them with a gasp, thinking he won’t come in, but he does, and I shriek as he beelines straight for me.
Peering around, I spot Leone at the back in the corners where the smokers sit. I quickly walk toward him. He has his back to me, but Dante’s brows furrow when he spots me, and Milo stands. Leone is about to turn around to see what the commotion is when I grip the back of his chair and twist, falling into his lap. He startles, looking at me as I clutch his jacket.
My trembling hands grip his jacket, and I peer over his shoulder to see Devon’s hand reaching for me. “You little slut—” I flinch at his tone. Suddenly, Devon sputters, stuttering terribly, and I realize Leone has his wrist.
“Is there an issue, son?” Vittorio asks, and my eyes go to him across from Leone. Vittorio is eyeing Penso. He leans forward, taking his drink and sipping it when Leone answers.
“Appears so because this fool believes he can put his hands on my wife.”
“The world seems to have gone mad tonight, first the Russians, and now this man thinks he can touch a Pressutti woman?” Vittorio’s voice cuts through the air.
“Pressutti woman?” Devon stutters, his panicked eyes darting at me. “Wife?”
“Do I need to repeat myself? You dare come into my casino and try to grab my wife?” Penso shakes his head. Visibly shaken.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, Mr. Pressutti.” Penso stutters.
“Is there a reason you believe you can put your hands on my wife?” Leone’s voice is ice cold, and my eyes dart to his. Leone lets him go, but he stumbles back and runs into Milo and Rocco.
“How do these two know each other?” Vittorio presses.
“Honest mistake, I thought she was someone else, forgive me,” Penso says, nodding, but his glare lingers on me for a second. Leone’s gaze zeros in on my face. At first, I think he wants an explanation. Instead, he tilts my face; his thumb brushes over my cheek where he slapped me.
“I wouldn’t call putting your hands on my wife an honest mistake.” Leone’s voice is deadly calm, but he dismisses him when Vittorio speaks again.
“Geez, anyone would think we’ve turned soft,” Vittorio comments. “Touching your woman, who does he think he is?”
“He is about to find out,” Leone comments, reaching for his drink. I look over my shoulder in time to see Rocco and Milo grab Penso, leading him out back. Leone’s hand trails lazily up my arm, and I shudder, knowing I just got the man killed.
I wriggle on Leone’s lap, feeling uncomfortable when Vittorio refocuses the discussion. “Leone, about this dinner with your mother. I understand your concern, but Fallon here seems perfectly obedient tonight,” Vittorio observes, his eyes flicking between us.
Leone’s hand rests warningly on my knee under the table. His voice is smooth, yet there’s an edge to it as he responds. “She can be.”
Dante leans in, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s not Fallon we should worry about. How Mamma will react to her, that’s the real question.”
Vittorio chuckles, swirling his wine. “Virginia is just eager for grandchildren; she has been excited for weeks now about meeting her.” Vittorio comments, looking at me. “Surely, Fallon, that’s something to look forward to?” His gaze pins me.
Feeling the weight of expectation, I force a small smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “Children are a blessing,” I say, the words tasting like ash.
Vittorio nods, apparently satisfied, then his curiosity piques again. “And when can we meet your mother? What’s her name?”
