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 red, the frustration of the past week boiling over, my cheeks hot with humiliation. She shrieks and swings at me. I’m quicker—my fist connects with her face, sending her staggering back.
“What the f**k do you think you are doing?” Leone stands, his grip ironclad around my arm.
“Me? What the f**k do you think you are doing?” I spit back, defiance blazing in my chest when the girl I hit appears in my periphery, before her hand can strike me, Leone snatches her wrist.
“
