Romance

FALLON
Leone tilts his head, his gaze briefly flicking to Milo behind me. “You’re like a moth to my flame, too mesmerized to realize the danger,” he murmurs, his voice a dark melody. “I could extinguish your light instantly, yet it’s far more enticing to watch you burn for me, slowly and completely.”
His words echo in my mind, a stark reminder of the dark path that lies ahead if I resist. Yet, surrendering could mean a lifetime under his thumb, a puppet. “I wanna trade my life for his. Let him keep the money, at least I know they’ll be okay.”
“Your life is already mine, I already own you.” Leone laughs.
“But I won’t fight you, I won’t resist, you can do what you want with me,” I tell him, though I hate the words that leave my mouth.
“You fighting me is half the fun,” he chuckles, only for his eyes to move to Milo behind him. “What if I don’t want you to be just mine,” he says, his eyes r

LEONE
“Leone?” Milo’s voice breaks through the chaos, tinged with an urgency that sends a ripple of satisfaction through me, knowing I made the right decision by letting her live, hearing the panic in his voice. I turn to see Fallon crumpled in his arms, her blonde locks now darkened with blood that seeps from the wound in her shoulder. We probably need to do something about that.
“Get a doctor to my mansion, now!” I bark at Rocco, one of my men standing next to my car. He nods sharply and retrieves his phone while Milo crushes her limp body against his chest, and I approach the car.
“Put her in the car, Milo,” I command. Milo moves swiftly, his arms cradling Fallon with a surprising tenderness that belies his hardened exterior. He slides into the back of the black sedan.
I follow suit, slipping into the leather seat next to him, my mind racing as I take in the scene before me. Fallon’s face is ghostly pale, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She’s vulnerable, a vast contrast to the fiery spirit she’s shown at the casino tables. I yank off my shirt, pressing it against the bleeding wound, applying pressure in an attempt to stem the flow.
Blood, a deep crimson, seeps between my fingers as I press my shirt against the gunshot wound in her shoulder. Milo watches me, his brown eyes reflecting the streetlights outside, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. “Is she going to make it?” he asks, voice low.
I don’t even look up from Fallon’s still form. “She’ll be fine,” I state with a conviction I’m not sure that I feel. It’s a strange experience, caring whether this woman lives or dies. She was meant to be a closed chapter—another person who failed to best me.
Yet here I am, holding her life together with nothing but my shirt and sheer willpower. My decision to save her life wasn’t just about her debt or her family; there’s something about her defiance that intrigues me. She is strong, even if she doesn’t believe it.
The car speeds towards my mansion, cutting through the night like a bullet—a fitting metaphor, given the situation. I glance at Milo, noting how he adjusts his hold on Fallon, ensuring her head rests comfortably against his chest.
Between what her father stole and her sister’s surgery, Fallon owes millions, and her debt is now my leverage. But it’s more than that—I see potential in her, a strength that could be used to benefit my empire. The game has changed, and Fallon is now an unexpected player on my board. My father said I needed to marry to take over completely, provide an heir. Fallon will provide one, she has no choice. Whether she lives is up to her, she can play along and we’ll look after her, or I will put a bullet in her head the moment my baby is born. The thought alone stirs a dangerous excitement within me.
Yet, the risk of having a woman at my side also terrifies me. She’ll be a target, be under pressure constantly, and constantly battling temptation, something my ex-wife was too weak for.
“Hold this,” I tell Milo, pulling my phone out and quickly texting Rocco. He replies instantly, and I pocket my phone before returning to holding the shirt against her wound.
“Drive faster,” I order the driver, my impatience growing. Time is precious, and every second counts when death lingers so closely. Fuck, I am now regretting my decision to torment her instead of getting her help first.
Pulling my shirt back, I check her wound; it’s barely bleeding now. “Was the game with your gun necessary if you intended to let her live? It was a little risky, don’t you think?” Milo asks.
“Fallon isn’t the only one good with her hands. It wasn’t loaded, Milo, I was testing her.”
“Testing her?” he asks, unable to hide the shock and disgust from his words. I brush her hair from her blood-smeared face.
“Yes, I need to see if she can focus and keep her head even when faced with death.”
“Did she pass?” he asks, but I can see the question in his gaze; he wants to know what is going through my head and why I let her live.
“She came, didn’t she?”
“And if she hadn’t?” he probes.
“Well, she wouldn’t be sitting on your lap right now, I would have shot her,” I say, letting that sink in. He swallows thickly, and I turn my gaze to the window.
As we pull up to the gates of my mansion, I’m already formulating plans. Anticipating moves, readying myself for the shit storm this girl is about to unknowingly create.
The driver pulls into the mansion’s driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires like bones being ground into dust. He parks the car and climbs out quickly, opening the back door for Milo, whose usual composure is rattled.
“Where do I put her?” he asks, his arms still cradling Fallon’s limp body protectively.
“My room,” I answer steadily. My gaze doesn’t waver from Fallon’s face, but I can feel Milo’s confusion almost palpable in the air between us as his gaze watches my face. No woman has stepped foot in my bedroom since my ex-wife—a fact well-known to those closest to me.
“Your room?” Milo echoes, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn’t question the order further. He knows better than to push for answers I don’t want to give yet.
“Yes, now walk,” I command, climbing out of the car after him. As we ascend the grand staircase, I ponder the decision I’ve just made. The corridors of my home, usually echoing with the sounds of subservience and hushed whispers, now seem to hold their breath, waiting for the outcome of tonight’s events.

FALLON
A sob nearly escapes me in relief as my inner walls clamp around the barrel that is slick with my desire, and I cry out as my entire body tenses. I see white. Wave after wave washes through me, and my back arches off the table. Tears prick the corners of my eyes and spill over, rolling down my face as Leone lets me ride out my climax, his tongue slowing, and I collapse against the table, trying to catch my breath.
He withdraws the gun slowly, and I glare at him as the chill in the air laces my skin with goosebumps. Milo sighs audibly, yet Leone smirks before tracing his tongue along the barrel.
As Leone steps closer, I finally sit up only to flinch when his hand moves toward me, his fingers dance across my skin, tracing patterns that ignite sparks of desire despite the terror that curls within me. His touch is seductive, dangerous, and I cannot look away from the glint in his eyes

FALLON
Leone tilts his head, his gaze briefly flicking to Milo behind me. “You’re like a moth to my flame, too mesmerized to realize the danger,” he murmurs, his voice a dark melody. “I could extinguish your light instantly, yet it’s far more enticing to watch you burn for me, slowly and completely.”
His words echo in my mind, a stark reminder of the dark path that lies ahead if I resist. Yet, surrendering could mean a lifetime under his thumb, a puppet. “I wanna trade my life for his. Let him keep the money, at least I know they’ll be okay.”
“Your life is already mine, I already own you.” Leone laughs.
“But I won’t fight you, I won’t resist, you can do what you want with me,” I tell him, though I hate the words that leave my mouth.
“You fighting me is half the fun,” he chuckles, only for his eyes to move to Milo behind him. “What if I don’t want you to be just mine,” he says, his eyes remaining on Milo. I swallow wondering if he is planning to pimp me out.
“You’ll let my father live?”

22