Romance

Fallon
But for now, I am grateful for the solitude of the car. The only sounds are the gentle purr of the engine and my racing thoughts.
My house comes into view. It’s a small brick house, but it’s always been big enough for the three of us. We made happy memories there, and I long for Emma to be home so that we can make more.
As I pull into my driveway and step out of the car, the cool air of the late hour envelops me, pulling me back into the present moment. I sigh, knowing that tomorrow will be just like today, and the day after that, and the day after that. But for now, I am home, and that is enough; it has to be.
I notice my father’s car parked in front of mine, and as I walk toward the house, I text Marcus, letting him know I’m home. His response seconds later makes a smile tug at my lips.
Marcus: Good, call me if you need me.
I pocket my phone. The moonlight casts long shadows acr

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.
“Please, I’ll do what you ask, but do they have to watch?”
A wicked smile curls on Leone’s lips, and he gestures towards Milo. “Did you hear that, Milo? The little girl is ready to do anything but doesn’t want an audience.” He laughs as if that is the most foolish thing I could have said.
Milo’s stony stare remains fixed on me, devoid of any sympathy. Leone leans down, his face mere inches away from mine. His breath brushes against my cheek as he whispers, “You don’t seem to understand, Fallon,” he murmurs coldly, pulling away.
Leone’s smile fades slightly as his eyes narrow into dangerous slits as he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “In my world, there are no second chances. You either play by my rules or suffer the consequences.”
My heart beats faster and skips at his words, and tears well in my eyes as I glance over at my father lying unconscious on the floor.
“Sometimes playing by the rules makes people desperate,” I whisper, turning my gaze back to Leone’s. He tilts his head to the side, observing me.
“My father is a good man; he’s worked for you for a decade. But everyone does stupid things when they are scared, Mr. Pressutti.”
“And who could your father possibly fear more than the man he worked a decade for, Ms. McCallister?”
My lip quivers. This man is known for being heartless. We are mere ants to him, so I know nothing I say will make him have mercy, yet still, I try. “How much did he steal?” I ask, and Mr. Pressutti glances at the woman.
“One million, four hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars,” she answers, and I swallow.
“Does that answer your question?” Leone asks.
“It tells me why,” I answer. Mr. Pressutti’s brows pinch confused, but of course, they would. This isn’t the sort of man who gets to know those who betray him; he’s the sort of man who kills without remorse.
“Now, why would he need that kind of money, especially after you took out the tables at Verdigris last night?”
I swallow, holding his gaze.
“Nice little trick by the way. It took me four times watching that footage to realize you were counting the cards at the blackjack tables but the last table when you played Penso?” His thumb brushes over my bottom lip gently.
“You had a losing hand, and you swapped cards,” he smiles cruelly, “I must admit, you have nice technique; I wouldn’t have known until I watched the footage of you leaving and caught you tossing the card in the bins.”
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.
“You never answered my question, Fallon,” he adds, and my breath comes in tiny rasps.
“Next to the computer, the mail there,” I tell him, my eyes burning with tears I refuse to let fall. Milo wanders to the small desk in the corner and picks up the open letter next to the printer. He pulls it out and hands it to Mr. Pressutti, who does up his pants and then takes it. I let out a breath of relief, knowing he isn’t going to stuff his cock down my throat. At least not yet, anyway. He reads it while I rub my arms, not daring to move, knowing it’s pointless.
“She’s your sister?” Mr. Presutti asks, glancing at me.
“Yes, her name is Emma. She’s waiting for a heart transplant; that money he stole is the cost of it. Please, you have your money. I have the money from Verdigris. You can have it back. Just let my father live,” I plead. He nods toward one of his men, who moves toward the stairs and stops.
“Where is it?” the man asks, but my gaze remains on Leone as I answer.
“Duffle bag in the linen closet,” I say, feeling defeated.
The man leaves and returns moments later with the bag, dropping it at Mr. Pressutti’s feet. He glances at the letter in his hand, shocking me with his following words.
“He did this for his daughter?” I nod my head, knowing now she’ll die alone once he kills us.
“You said you’d do anything?” he tells me, and my gaze snaps to him.
“Let’s test that then?” he says. I suck in a breath, knowing what I have to do, and I reach for his belt, but he steps back. I look up at him questionably. “Let’s play a game.”
“Boss?” Milo asks, stepping forward, but Leone raises his hand.

FALLON
Instinctively, I step back, and he steps forward, stalking me like prey. His lips tug up into a smirk as he notices the fear that I know is evident on my face before I quickly mask it. That same fear makes goosebumps rise on my arms. Everything about this man screams at me to run.
“Lighter?” he asks, causing me to stop like a deer in the headlights for a second. His eyes watch my face as I try to remember what he asked. Suddenly, a hand from behind snakes past me, passing him a lighter, and Milo’s voice comes from behind me, making me flinch.
“So quiet out here,” Milo muses, leaning into me, his breath ghosting across my neck as he passes his boss a lighter. Leone takes it, lights his smoke, and takes a puff. He blows the smoke into the air, but his eyes watch me. Mr. Pressutti tilts his head to the side, observing me, then steps forward. I take another back only to bump into Milo, which makes Mr. Pressutti smile sadistically like he enjoys seeing my fear.
“You seem spooked?” he comments, and I notice the evil glint in his eye. This man is the sort of monster that likes to play with his food or, in my case, his victim. It’s like he wants them to know that their death is imminent and controlled by him.
“No, it’s just a little cold,” I lie easily, shocking myself at how calm I sound despite feeling like I am about to have a heart attack.
“And how about now?” Mr. Pressutti asks, stepping closer. His chest presses against mine, forcing me back against Milo, who is a solid wall behind me. Milo grips my hip to steady me, and I gasp when his huge hand squeezes gently.
“She looks so small between us,” Mr. Pressutti chuckles, drawing back on his smoke. The next second, he moves quicker than my eyes catch. Suddenly, his hand is wrapped around my throat, making me gasp. Yet, he doesn’t squeeze; he just drags me closer. His hand moves to grip my chin, tilting my face up while I remain frozen with fear.
Dipping his head, his lips graze mine with the barest of touches. He forces my lips to part with his thumb, increasing pressure on my jaw. Smoke suddenly fills my mouth, and I gasp before choking on it, gagging for air.
He smiles, moving quickly to grip the back of my neck before dragging me so close I can smell his cologne as he smothers my face against his hard chest, his fingers tangling in my hair.
My hands instinctively press against his jacket, wanting to shove him off. Instead, my hands only tremble, knowing that doing such a thing will get me killed.
His fingers fist my hair, forcing my head back, and I bite back the urge to cry out at the pain of my hair tearing from my scalp at his harsh grip. His eyes search mine for a second.
“You shouldn’t be out in the dark by yourself. You never know who’s lurking in the shadows,” he warns, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“Well, good thing you found me then; you wouldn’t want the boogie man to get your best card dealer,” my voice stutters slightly, and he smiles wickedly.
“No need to fear the boogie man around me. Not even the depths of hell dare whisper my name, for the devil himself quakes at the thought of crossing me.”
My heart beats frantically at his words as I try to figure out what’s going on. When the door suddenly opens, Leone doesn’t move straight away. Instead, he holds my gaze when Marcus’s voice reaches me.
“Fallon?” he calls out. Leone’s eyes seem to darken briefly, and I swallow thickly.
“Is everything alright?” Marcus asks, stepping outside.
Please don’t hurt him, I think to myself.
Leone steps aside, and my eyes meet Marcus’s worried ones. He holds a hand out to me, and I swiftly move to take it when Milo tugs me back against him, his hand pressing against my stomach.
Marcus steps forward, and I can tell he wants to rip me away from Milo, but my eyes hold him, warning him not to. “Everything is fine,” Milo states, his hand moving to my throat as he cranes my head back to look at him. “Right, Fallon?” Milo says, and a shiver runs up my spine at the angry look in his eyes. Milo’s grip tightens subtly, his hand pressing against my stomach to keep me close. His breath is a warm whisper against my ear, chilling in its intensity. “Tell Marcus everything is fine,” he instructs, ensuring only I can hear the menacing undertone of his voice.
As I nod slightly, forcing a calm I don’t feel, Milo continues, his lips barely moving. “And just so we’re clear,” he adds, his voice dropping even lower, “next time your little friend interrupts us, I will kill him. And you, my dear, will watch.”
The threat sends a shiver of terror down my spine, and I hastily nod again, my eyes meeting Marcus’s concerned gaze. “Everything is fine, Marcus,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear Milo’s words have instilled. “Really, there’s no need to worry.”
Marcus hesitates, searching my face for any sign of the lie. He doesn’t look satisfied, but he nods slowly and steps forward, his hand outstretched, unaware of the chilling promise Milo has just made.
“You should come inside. It’s chilly out here,” Marcus says, his eyes not leaving Milo behind me.
Milo lets me go, and I rush to accept Marcus’s hand. He tugs me close, draping an arm across my shoulders.
Marcus doesn’t waste time steering me to the door when I hear Milo’s deep, rumbling laugh as I push through the doors and inside.
“What was that about?” Marcus asks, pushing me up against the wall.
“Nothing, a misunderstanding,” I answer, glancing at the door nervously.
Marcus grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw bulging. “If you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help you,” Marcus says, and I chew my lip. Am I in trouble, or are they just trying to frighten me? I know the answer, but I don’t want Marcus mixed up in my mess. And I highly doubt Marcus can help me; they’d kill him without thinking twice about it.
“Everything is fine. I’ll handle it,” I tell him. He goes to say something, but I cut him off. “If you’re here, who’s holding my table?”
“Ben is, I heard security say they went out back and knew you were out there… I don’t like how they’ve been watching you all night,” he adds. I swallow his words confirming I wasn’t imagining it.
“Thanks, but you shouldn’t have come out; they could have…” I don’t finish. Marcus isn’t blind; he knows who they are and what they are. The entire city knows; it’s no secret, just one no one dares to speak of.
We return to the floor, slipping back into the roles of the happy dealers. The night presses on, an endless cycle of shuffles and deals, but my leg bounces restlessly beneath the table.
I have plans to make, and more jobs that I need to schedule. The idea of moonlighting at another joint crosses my mind—somewhere discreet, the stakes higher, and where Leone Pressutti’s watchful eyes can’t reach. Had I known Verdigris was his new establishment, I never would have stepped foot into the place. Yet, it is the best place to earn money fast if you win and the only place I have had enough to buy in.
As I cash out the last winner for the night, my fingers itch to grab the chips and run, to throw caution to the wind for that one big score that could save my sister. Instead, I smile, watching the person leave before turning to Marcus.
“Do you know if my father waited?” I ask him, and he glances over at me, packing up his table.
“No, I saw him leave earlier. He seemed in a rush. He didn’t even say hello back when I called out to him,” he grumbles.
“Is Emma okay? Maybe he rushed off to see her before the hospital closed for visitors,” Marcus states. I try not to let his words bother me, but something nags at me.
He isn’t with Emma. The visiting hours already ended unless…. No, my father would have notified me if something happened to her. So, instead, I shrug. “I guess I’ll find out once I get home,” I tell Marcus.
“Message me once home, so I know you got home alright,” he tells me as his eyes dart to the floor above. I nod once and turn to leave.
Exiting through the staff door, I feel the chill of the night air strike my flushed cheeks. I pause, letting the reality of the outside world wash over me. Emma’s laughter and dreams of a future untainted by illness are the fuel that fires my every step, the very heartbeat of my determination not to fail her.
The drive home from work is long and tedious, the monotonous hum of the engine blending with the dull ache in my head. I yawn and rub my eyes, knowing that I will be back at work in only a few short hours, my body and mind trapped in an endless cycle of labor and fatigue.

Fallon
But for now, I am grateful for the solitude of the car. The only sounds are the gentle purr of the engine and my racing thoughts.
My house comes into view. It’s a small brick house, but it’s always been big enough for the three of us. We made happy memories there, and I long for Emma to be home so that we can make more.
As I pull into my driveway and step out of the car, the cool air of the late hour envelops me, pulling me back into the present moment. I sigh, knowing that tomorrow will be just like today, and the day after that, and the day after that. But for now, I am home, and that is enough; it has to be.
I notice my father’s car parked in front of mine, and as I walk toward the house, I text Marcus, letting him know I’m home. His response seconds later makes a smile tug at my lips.
Marcus: Good, call me if you need me.
I pocket my phone. The moonlight casts long shadows across my childhood home as I approach, the key already in hand. But as I climb the three steps, I noti

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