Gamble

Chapter 10

FALLON

I bite back the retort clawing up my throat when he reaches a hand up to cup the side of my face. I want to slap his hand away, but I can’t afford a misstep. Not when the price is so steep. So, I smile instead. I know better than to poke a bear when I am in his cave.

“When I win, I never want to see your face again.” I pivot. The two men who were arguing are now fighting, one man narrowly missing me as the drunk man swings at him, and he steps out of reach. I’m yanked against a hard chest, my breath lodging in my throat, when a loud bang rings out. I jump at the sound, and deathly silence falls over the room, everyone’s attention drawn our way.

That’s when I notice the gun in Leone’s hand. The drunk man crumples to the ground, a bullet having found his head.

My entire body trembles against him. And I step back, seeing the man’s blood pool on the floor, streaming toward my feet. Leone holds me tighter as he turns his attention to the two men who led me down here.

“Clean this up, and get Mr. Porter a drink,” Leone orders. Men rush forward, grabbing the dead man’s body, and servers quickly fix the table and the mess as if this is a common occurrence.

“Always a sore loser. Mr. Porter, I’m sorry about that. I’ll be questioning my men as to why he was allowed to participate tonight,” Leone answers the balding man in an expensive-looking suit. The man nods once, moving to another table when I notice two other men now flank him, having rushed over a little late.

“Not so confident now,” Leone whispers next to my ear. “But remember, Fallon, arrogance is a sin easily punished, as you just saw.”

My pulse thrums at his warning, a visceral reminder of the man’s capacity for cruelty. But fear isn’t a luxury I can indulge in—not now, not with so much on the line. “Go find Milo while I have this mess cleaned up.” Leone lets me go, and I step over the puddle of blood.

Moving through the room, I spot Milo in the distance. He waves me over, and I go to him but don’t see my father anywhere.

“Where is my father?”

“Safe for now, but if you want to win, you need to buy in,” he tells me.

“No s**t, Sherlock, but with what?” I ask him, and he drops the bag of my winnings from Verdigris at my feet.

I snatch the bag up and move to the booths at the back. I drop the bag on the counter, and the woman behind it takes it, passing it off to someone to count when I once again feel someone brush up against me. Only this time, instead of Leone, it’s Milo.

“It’s already been counted; max out her tab,” he tells the woman, who nods once before handing over a tray with stacked chips. I move to grab it when I feel someone grip my ankle, making me jump and glance down. Milo kneels next to me, undoing the clasp of my heel.

“What are you doing?” I demand when the woman behind the counter drops a pair of flats on the counter. Milo reaches up, grabbing them, his eyes meeting mine briefly.

“I can do it myself.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to let you bend over in a skirt with all these men around, you’re mistaken,” he snaps. He takes the heel off, forcing me to grip his shoulder as I sway slightly. He massages the bottom of my foot for a second, and a sigh slips past my lips before I can stop it.

His eyes dart up to meet mine, a devilish smile slipping onto his face before he focuses on what he is doing. He removes the other heel, his hand sliding down my calf to my ankle as he lifts my foot, doing the same before slipping the flats onto my feet. Surprisingly, they fit perfectly, making me wonder how he knows my shoe size. I let the thought slip away, deciding I probably didn’t want to know.

“Thank you,” I mutter when he rises, passing my heels to the woman who places them under the counter.

“Thanks, Jacinta,” Milo tells the woman, who nods, pushing the tray of chips toward me.

Grabbing it, I turn around to see Milo smirking down at me.

“Good luck, you’ll need it,” he laughs, sauntering off.

I reach the table, slipping into the player’s role as if it were my second skin. The click of chips and murmur of wagers become my world, and I play each hand with precision, my fingers a blur of motion as I take down each table, yet something nags at me. Why is there no one at the far back table that is on a podium? I find it odd as I sit at the last table.

I’m so close I can almost taste victory when I spot Leone, who comes and stands beside me. My fingers twitch with nerves and anticipation, knowing victory is within my grasp and that freedom comes down to this last game. But a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me it won’t be so simple.

I push the thought aside and focus on the game before me. The two men opposite me are good players, but I’m determined to come out on top. I calculate my odds with each hand and continue to make moves, raking in more chips with each round. It’s all in the bluff.

Leone looms over me, his dark eyes never leaving the table. I can feel his intense heat burning into my back, almost suffocating me with its weight. But I refuse to let him intimidate me.

As the night progresses, tension fills the air, thick and palpable. The remaining two players at the table shift uneasily, their eyes darting between their cards and the towering figure of Leone beside me. It’s as if they can sense the invisible force surrounding him, a force that has propelled him to become one of the most feared figures in the city.

Just before the final hand is dealt, my phone rings. The ringtone tells me it’s the hospital, and I scramble from my seat, looking for it only to remember Leone has my phone still. He arches an eyebrow at me. I grit my teeth, but he makes no move to retrieve my phone from inside his jacket pocket. The ringtone teases me, and after its fourth blaring ring, I know it’s going to go to voicemail. Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand moves to his jacket.

He watches me dig through his pockets and I freeze momentarily, waiting for him to hit me for what I am doing. Instead, he seems amused, raising an eyebrow at me. “Top left one,” he says, and I move to the other side of his jacket to grab it; I answer it, pressing it to my ear.

“Hello?” I answer, while my eyes dart to Leone’s watchful gaze. Someone moves out of my periphery, but he shakes his head at them, warding them off.

“Fallon, we’ve tried your father, but you’re listed as Emma’s next contact,” a soothing voice says on the other end. It’s Dr. Stevens, the surgeon in charge of her case.

“Correct,” I reply.

“We’ve received some incredible news. A heart has become available for Emma.” I take a relieved breath. I can’t believe this is happening, especially after this evening. Finally, some good news for Emma.

My breathing hitches, and I can hardly believe what I am hearing. The weight of years spent waiting for a transplant lifts off my shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief. I clutch the phone tighter, trying to steady my voice.

“That’s... Wonderful,” I reply, tears welling in my eyes. “But how long until the surgery?” And where the f**k am I going to come up with the money for it?

Dr. Stevens pauses for a moment before responding, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. “You need to settle the bill first, Fallon. I’ve tried to go to the board of directors, but… We understand it’s a significant sum you and your family have been struggling with. Once we receive confirmation it’s been taken care of or financial assistance has been provided, we can proceed with the surgery immediately.”

My mind racing as I consider the cost hanging over my head like a dark cloud. But this is my sister’s chance at a new life. I’ll have to find a way somehow. I turn away from Leone, emotions threatening to overwhelm me.