Page 48 of Auctioned to the Mafia Don
“Then something else concerns you.”
His gaze flicks once toward the partition, toward the table where Maya sits with my men, watching from enough distance to let the room believe she is unattended. He thinks the glance is subtle. It is not. Men like Leon have spent too much of their lives assuming arrogance can be mistaken for composure if the suit is expensive enough.
“Federal raids concern everyone,” he says. “Even men with clean hands.”
I almost smile. Clean hands. The statement is laughable. The man sold women in my city, hid his children like assets to be transferred.
“Then it is fortunate neither of us is easily concerned by such things.”
He studies me over the rim of his glass, pointing toward Maya. “Expensive choice.”
“Worthwhile one.”
Leon’s mouth curves, but his eyes sharpen. He wants to look at her again. He knows better because I corrected him in front of the table, and pride still stings beneath his smile. I let that sting stay fresh.
“She seems… adjusted.”
I take one slow step closer to the glass partition, enough that I can see the reflection of the VIP area without turning my head fully. Maya is where I left her. Back straight. Her face is composed, but her eyes aren’t idle. She is working.
Good girl.The thought irritates me, because I like it too much.
“She learns quickly,” I say.
Leon laughs under his breath. “Women do when they understand the alternative.”
I look at him, eyes narrowing, and his laugh dies.
There is a version of this night where I put a bullet through Leon O’Reilly’s throat and let Maya decide whether to thank me or hate me while he bleeds onto imported carpet. It would be satisfying. Fast. Too simple. Dead men answer nothing, and I need Leon alive long enough to show me the shape of his remaining operation before I decide how much of him Maya will receive.
Alive, Maya wants him alive. Which is inconvenient. But she believes that bringing him to justice matters. I have not decided yet whether I agree.
Leon recovers the smile. “I meant no insult.”
“No,” I say. “You rarely do, do you?”
“Something like that. Still, profit makes a man listen, even when offense is made.”
“I said I would listen if it could profit me, yes.”
“Then listen.” He sets his glass down. “Something went missing during the raid.”
I answer with silence, patiently waiting for him to continue.
He continues. “My people were moving several assets out before the situation got — messy.”
“What sort of assets?”
His jaw works once. “Family business, that’s all I’ll say.”
The reflection in the glass shifts at the table behind me, and a man moves closer to Maya.
Alistair Voss.I recognize him immediately. Soft hands. Empty courage. A wife in Palm Beach who collects charity committees, a son with gambling debts, and two offshore accounts tied to women who didn't choose the rooms they were taken to. Alistair has survived this long because he is never important enough to be the first priority to kill.
That may change tonight if he doesn’t get away from what is mine. I watch in the reflection as his hand closes around Maya’swrist. And every nerve in my body goes still. Oblivious to the situation, Leon keeps talking. But for the next three seconds, I hear none of it.
Maya looks down at the man’s hand. Then back at his face. She doesn’t panic. She doesn’t pull away. She offers him a smile.
I struggle to force my attention back to my own task. That was the point of leaving her there. Omar is nearby, at the lower bar. Two of my men have lines of sight from the stairs. I can see the table reflected in the glass. Maya is not alone; however, she believes she is alone. I’ve left her that way on purpose, I want to see what she chooses when she has a choice.
