I'll return them tomorrow. Get the real money back.
That was the plan. She had to stick to the plan. But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning. Leo wouldn't stop at five thousand. He'd expect more. And as much as she wanted to scream, to run from it all, she knew she couldn't. Not while Samuel was still tangled in Leo's Web, and now so was she.
As she finally pulled into her driveway, Susan sat in the car for a moment, her hands still gripping the steering wheel, her heart pounding in her chest. She was in too deep now, and there was no turning back.
____________
The Summit nightclub was eerily silent when Susan walked in. The usual pulse of loud music and vibrant chatter was absent, replaced by an unsettling stillness. The place was empty—no patrons, no bartenders buzzing around. She walked on, her heels clinking against the floor as she began to climb the stairs that led to the private lounge. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was in the right place, but then her eyes landed on the familiar figure sitting in the shadows of the lounge.
Leo.
He was lounging casually, his dark blue shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. A black beanie sat on his head, giving him a dangerous, rugged look that only accentuated the fact that he was the crime boss she'd gotten herself tangled up with. He didn't need music or people around him to command the space—he was the energy of the room.
As Susan made her way forward, her nerves twisted in her stomach. The blue fitted jumpsuit she wore clung to her in all the right places, a choice she hadn't really thought about until now. Leo's eyes found her the second she walked into the lounge, their intensity making her skin prickle. That magnetic pull between them was instant, undeniable, and it irritated her just as much as it thrilled her.
Leo's gaze swept over her in a slow, deliberate assessment. "You're right on time."
"Yeah, well, I got it done," she replied coolly, trying to suppress the heat crawling up her neck under his stare.
Leo gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
Susan hesitated but ultimately slid into the seat, her movements sharp, reflecting the frustration simmering inside her. "Why is the place closed?" she asked, glancing around the empty lounge and club below.
"I told them to shut it down for the night," Leo replied with a casual shrug, as if closing an entire nightclub was nothing more than a whim for him. "Wanted it quiet."
There was always something unnerving about the way Leo's confidence filled a room, how he could casually say things that sent a chill down her spine. But she wasn't here to be rattled. She was here to finish the job. Taking a deep breath, Susan pulled the box from her bag and set it on the table between them, sliding it toward Leo. The counterfeit cash, now washed and returned as real money, neatly packed inside. "Here. Just like you asked."
Leo leaned forward slightly, popping the lid of the box open just enough to peer inside. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shut the lid again. "Not bad."
His approval—so casual, so effortless—made something snap inside Susan. She had risked everything… committed a damn crime to do this, and for what? A single glance and a smile? Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, she didn't speak. Then, her frustration spilled over.
"So what do I get for this, Leo?" she asked, her voice sharp. "What's my reward for being your little errand girl?"
Leo leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as if he'd been waiting for this. "Your brother gets more time," he said, his voice infuriatingly calm.
"More time?" Susan snapped, her temper flaring. "How long do I have to keep doing this for you before you consider his debt paid?"
Leo's smile deepened, but there was something cold behind it. "You work for me until I say the debt's paid. That's the deal."
The audacity of it—his casual cruelty—made her blood boil. Throwing caution to the wind, Susan stood abruptly, her fists clenched. "You're such an asshole, you know that? You're a horrible person, Leo!" The words spilled out in a rush, her anger making her reckless. "I can't believe people actually work for you… Listen to you. You go around making people's lives difficult because you think you're untouchable. How do you live with yourself after everything you do?"
Instead of getting angry, Leo simply watched her, that infuriating smile still playing at his lips. He seemed to enjoy the way she fumed, like she was some kind of amusing spectacle. "I've never claimed to be anything other than what I am, Suzy," he said softly, the glint in his eyes sharp. "I'm not a good guy or a nice guy. You should know that by now. If you think I'm an asshole, believe me when I say that I'm very comfortable with that label."
His nonchalance only stoked her fury. She stood suddenly, grabbed her bag and spun toward the exit, determined to leave, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm done. I'm leaving," she said, but as she moved toward the stairs, Leo's voice followed her.
"Perhaps this is a bad time to ask you to have a drink with me first," he called out, his tone teasing, almost mocking. "You'll feel better, I assure you."
Susan turned back, glaring at him over her shoulder. "I wouldn't drink with you if you were the last man on earth." She said.
She didn't wait for his response, practically flying down the stairs in her frustration. Her mind buzzed with anger and hurt, her steps quick and sharp as she headed for the exit. She was done. She didn't care about Leo, didn't care about his smug smile or his threats. But as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes flickered toward the bar. It was the only part of the club that wasn't entirely shut down, and behind the counter, a single bartender stood, cleaning glasses, ready for any last-minute patrons.
Susan paused, her heart still racing. Maybe she did need that drink. She deserved it after the day she'd had. After all, it wasn't for Leo. It was for her. With a sigh of frustration, she changed direction, walking toward the bar. She slid onto one of the stools and let out a long breath.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, his voice low and unobtrusive.
"A cocktail," Susan said, her voice still tight with anger. "Something strong."