Chapter 8 Bargaining
The private room was nothing like Cedric had imagined.
No torture equipment and bloodstains, no ominous concrete walls like in those shitty mob movies. Instead, it looked like something ripped straight out of Architectural Digest and all dark wood panels that probably cost more than Cedric's entire apartment building, leather furniture so buttery soft it had to be Italian, and ambient lighting that made everything look both elegant and vaguely threatening at the same time.
Falcone’s men released Cedric's arms and positioned themselves by the door like a pair of designer-suited gargoyles. Silent. Watchful. Probably armed to the teeth.
Falcone moved to a bar cart in the corner, his movements fluid and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and knew it. He poured two drinks with the kind of practiced ease that came from doing something a thousand times before.
"Sit," he said without looking at Cedric.
"Yeah, I'm good standing, thanks."
"That wasn't a request."
And fuck if Cedric's legs didn't just fold under him like they'd been waiting for permission. His ass hit the leather sofa hard, and he hated it. Hated how easily his body obeyed, hated the way falcone's voice seemed to bypass every defense mechanism he'd spent years carefully constructing.
Falcone turned, holding two glasses of amber liquid that caught the light like liquid gold. He handed one to Cedric and sat in the chair opposite, crossing one ankle over his knee in a pose that should've looked casual but somehow came off as a king surveying his domain.
"So," falcone said, swirling his drink slowly. "Let's try this again. The truth this time, Cedric."
Cedric took a gulp of whatever was in the glass. Taste like whiskey, expensive enough that it burned smooth instead of harsh, the kind of shit that cost more per shot than Cedric made in a night. "What makes you think I haven't been telling the truth?"
"Because I knew you were coming before you even applied for the job."
The glass nearly slipped from Cedric's fingers. He caught it at the last second, whiskey sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Marcus Chen." Falcone’s smile was sharp as broken glass, cutting and beautiful. "He's predictable. Admirable in his dedication, really, but predictable. He's been trying to get someone inside my organization for months now. When his last informant….what was her name? Rivera?...when she backed out..." He gestured at Cedric with his glass, the movement elegant and dismissive. "Well. Who better than someone desperate enough to overlook the danger?"
Cedric's mind raced, trying to piece together what this meant, how badly he was fucked. "If you knew, why the hell would you let me in?"
"Curiosity, mostly." Falcone took a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes never leaving Cedric's face. "When I saw your name on the application that my people intercepted so yes, we monitor police activity, shocking I know, but I wondered if it was the same Cedric Santos from high school. The one with the brilliant mind and the tragic, pathetic crush on a boy who'd never look at him twice." His eyes gleamed with something that might've been amusement or might've been cruelty. Probably both. "Turns out, it was."
"So this whole thing tonight, the questions, the intimidation act…"
"Was theater. Yes." Falcone set his glass down on the side table with a soft click. "But here's where it gets interesting, Cedric. You took off your wire."
Every muscle in Cedric's body locked up.
"Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn't check? That I wouldn't have my people sweep for recording devices before I let anyone near me?" Falcone leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and suddenly the casual businessman persona dropped away, revealing something predatory underneath. "The question is why. Why walk in here, supposedly working for Marcus, risking your life for whatever pittance he's paying you, and then sabotage the one thing that might keep you safe?"
"Maybe I don't trust cops." Cedric's voice came out rougher than he intended. "Maybe I've had enough run-ins with law enforcement to know they're not exactly looking out for people like me."
"Or maybe..." Falcone's smile widened, showing teeth. "You were planning to play both sides from the start. Tell Marcus what he wants to hear, make some quick money, and disappear before anyone gets hurt. Let them tear each other apart while you skip town with your pockets full." He tilted his head, studying Cedric like he was a fascinating specimen under a microscope. "Am I close?"
Uncomfortably fucking close. Cedric drained his glass to buy time, the whiskey burning all the way down. "You seem to have it all figured out, so why are we even having this conversation?"
"Because there's one thing I don't understand." Falcone stood, moving with that same predatory grace to refill Cedric's drink. Up close, Cedric could see the fine details. The way his shirt was tailored to perfection, the platinum watch on his wrist that probably cost more than a car, the faint scent of expensive cologne that made Cedric's head spin ten times in a role. "The debt your father left….yes, I know all about that too, it's significant. But there are easier ways to make money, Cedric. Safer ways." He handed Cedric the refilled glass, their fingers brushing for just a second. "So why walk into my club? Why risk everything on a scheme that had maybe a ten percent chance of working? Why now?"
"They doubled it." The words came out before Cedric could stop them, pulled out by the intensity of falcone’s gaze and the whiskey warming his empty stomach. "Three guys cornered me in an alley behind the bar last week. Said the debt doubled to five hundred grand under new management. Said I had two weeks to come up with it or they'd start with my family."
Falcone's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those dark eyes. Something that might've been satisfaction. "And Marcus promised to make it all disappear if you helped him bring me down."
"Yeah. Fifty-five grand upfront, protection for my family, and the debt wiped clean once you were behind bars." Cedric laughed, the sound bitter and sharp in the quiet room. "Sounded too good to be true, obviously, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do?"
"And do you believe him? Do you believe Marcus Chen will actually protect you when this is all over?"
Cedric took another drink, smaller this time. "I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. But at least it was a chance, you know? At least it was something other than watching my mom work herself to death and my sister…." He cut himself off, suddenly aware he was revealing too much.
"Smart boy." Falcone sat on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of Cedric, close enough that their knees almost touched, close enough that Cedric could see the faint scar on his temple and count his eyelashes if he wanted to. "Here's the truth, Cedric. That debt? The five hundred thousand dollars hanging over your head like a sword? It's mine now. I bought it six months ago."
The room tilted. The glass slipped from Cedric's fingers and falcone caught it smoothly, setting it aside without breaking eye contact.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"Every debt your father owed, every single payment you've been making, every dollar you've earned on your back in disgusting bathroom stalls….it's all been coming to me." Falcone’s voice was almost gentle, like he was explaining something simple to a child. "Those men who threatened you in the alley? Mine. The doubled amount? My order. The two-week deadline?" He smiled. "All me."
Cedric's hands started shaking. His whole body started shaking. "Why? Why would you…."
"Because I wanted you here." Falcone reached out, taking both of Cedric's trembling hands in his own. His grip was warm, steady, anchoring. "I wanted you desperate enough to take a risk. Desperate enough to walk into my club and right into my arms."
"You're fucking insane." Cedric tried to stand, tried to pull away, but falcone's hand shot out and pushed him back down by the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his intentions clear.
"Probably." Falcone’s thumb stroked along Cedric's collarbone, the touch deliberate and possessive, sending electricity racing down his spine despite everything. "But here we are anyway."
"I should kill you." Cedric spat the words out even as his body betrayed him, leaning into the touch like a starving man offered bread. "I should wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze until you stop breathing, you manipulative piece of shit."
"You could try." Falcone's other hand came up to cup Cedric's jaw, tilting his face up, forcing eye contact. "But then you'd never know what I'm offering."
"What could you possibly have that I'd want? You ruined my fucking life!"
"Everything." Falcone’s thumb traced Cedric's bottom lip, the gesture so intimate that Cedric's could feel is cock getting hard. "The debt? Gone. Wiped clean like it never existed. Your mother's job? I'll make sure she gets something better, somewhere prestigious where she's treated with respect. Your sister's therapy? I know the best child psychologists in the country. Your Cornell dreams..." He leaned closer, his breath warm against Cedric's face, smelling like whiskey and mint. "I can make all of it happen. Every single thing you've ever wanted."
Cedric's heart was hammering so hard he thought it might crack his ribs. "In exchange for what?"
"You."
The word hung between them, loaded with promise and threat and something darker that Cedric couldn't quite name.
"You work for me now," falcone continued, his voice dropping to something dark and hungry that went straight to Cedric's cock despite his best efforts. "Not as a bottle boy serving drinks to rich assholes. As mine. You live in my house, you wear what I give you, you go where I tell you, you let me take care of you the way you've always wanted to be taken care of." His grip tightened slightly on Cedric's jaw. "And you stop pretending you don't want this."
"I don't….I don't want…"
"Liar." Falcone's mouth was so close now that Cedric could feel the shape of the word against his lips. "I watched you in high school, Cedric. Every single day. I watched you moon over Marcus Chen like a lovesick puppy, watched you try so desperately hard to get his attention. You know what I saw?"
Cedric couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stare into those dark, knowing eyes.
"Submission." Falcone’s hand slid from Cedric's jaw to his throat, not squeezing, just holding, his thumb resting against Cedric's racing pulse. "You wanted someone to see you, to want you so badly that nothing else mattered. You wanted someone to take control, to make decisions for you, to tell you that you were worth something. Marcus couldn't give you that. He was too scared of what he wanted, too worried about what his teammates would think if they found out their precious captain liked boys."
Falcone’s thumb pressed slightly harder against Cedric's pulse point, and Cedric had to bite back a whimper.
"But I'm not scared of anything, Cedric, not of wanting you, not of taking you, not of keeping you. I've built an empire from nothing because I'm willing to do what other men won't. And I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life."
"This is insane," Cedric whispered, but he wasn't pulling away. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to. "You're talking about owning me. Like I'm a property."
"Yes." No apology in falcone's voice, just brutal honesty. "But you're going to say yes anyway. You know why?"
"Enlighten me."