Page 46 of Auctioned to the Mafia Don
Leon’s jaw flexes. “Someone talked.”
“Someone always talks.”
“You hear anything?”
Stefano lifts his glass. “Only that the Bureau came in stronger than usual.”
Leon’s gaze sharpens. “You left fast.”
“I got what I paid for.”
His words move across me like cold water, and I concentrate on keeping my face soft.
Leon glances at me. His gaze doesn’t linger this time. “Lucky timing.”
“I dislike wasting money,” Stefano says.
“And what about the rest of it?” another man asks. “The transfers? The back-end arrangements?”
Leon’s mouth tightens before he covers it with a sip of whiskey. “Some assets were delayed.”
Assets. Not children. Not his son. Not his daughter. Just assets.
My nails press into the palm of my hand beneath the table, and Stefano’s hand finds the back of my neck.
To the room, it is a caress. Casual. Possessive. A man touching what sits beside him because he can.
To me, it is a command. Hold.
Leon keeps talking. “A few things are missing. Nothing that can’t be recovered.”
Stefano’s fingers rest lightly below my hairline. “Missing things have a way of losing value if they stay gone too long.”
Leon’s eyes cut to him. “Depends what they are.”
“Or who took them?” The air tightens between them.
There it is. Just enough pressure to see where Leon bleeds.
Leon smiles. “You offering to help me look?”
“I am offering to listen if there is profit in it.”
“That sounds like Savarese generosity.”
“I have never been accused of generosity.”
The men laugh, as if the situation is amusing.
I sit between them, breathing through my nose, counting exits without moving my eyes. Two guards near the glass. One by the stairs. One bartender watching closely. Omar is not visible, which means he is somewhere useful. Stefano’s hand is still on my neck. Leon’s ring finger tapping against his glass.
He is agitated. I want him worse than agitated. I want him afraid.
The conversation shifts, circles, returns to the matter at hand. Stefano says little and learns more from his silence, because men like Leon cannot stand silence when they think the room might be doubting them. Leon talks around the missing children without naming them. Private matter. Family issue. Transport problem. Loose end. Each phrase lands like a hand around my throat.
Leon stands with him. “A private word?”
Stefano looks at me. My stomach drops before my face can react. No.
