Fucked Up High School Reunion

Cedric stopped, then he turned around slowly.

Falcone was looking at him now, really looking, his phone forgotten on the table. His expression was unreadable, but something was happening behind those eyes, some calculation, some recognition that Cedric didn't understand.

"Come here," Falcone said.

It wasn't a request.

Cedric's feet moved before his brain caught up, carrying him back to the table while he freaked out in his head. His first day on the job, and he was already fucked! What the hell possessed him to accept to such a dangerous job? What could Falcone possibly want from him?

He walked back to the centre of the booth, where Falcone sat watching him with dark, knowing eyes that made Cedric feel naked.

Up close, he was even more unbelievably hot. There was a faint scar on his temple, a small imperfection that somehow made him more attractive, not less. And his hands, long elegant fingers currently resting on his knee, Cedric imagined those fingers stretching out his ass from behind, pulling his hair, dominating his body.

Cedric blinked quickly. He needed to get a grip. This man was dangerous, he could kill him for fucks sake!

"Do I know you?" Falcone asked, his head tilting slightly.

"No, sir. First night." The lie came easily. "I'm just…”

"No." Falcone's eyes narrowed, studying Cedric's face intensely. "No, I've seen you before, and I don't forget faces."

Cedric's mouth went dry. The collectors! They must have shown Falcone his picture and told him about the debt, about…

"High school," Falcone said suddenly, and the words hit Cedric like a freight train. "Lincoln High. You were…” His expression shifted, something almost like surprise flickering across his features. "Ceddy? Cedric Santos?

Cedric’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

No. No, that wasn't possible. That didn't make any sense. Cedric would have remembered if Gianni Falcone had gone to his high school. He would never have forgotten such a perfectly handsome face.

But Falcone was smiling now, a slow curve of his lips that somehow made him look more dangerous, not less. And God help him, even that was attractive, the way his mouth moved, the flash of white teeth, the hint of something predatory and pleased underneath it all.

"You don't remember me," he said, and it wasn't a question. "Of course you don't. Why would you? I was nobody back then."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and the movement brought him closer, close enough that Cedric could smell his expensive, subtle cologne, which was absolutely not helping Cedric's ability to think straight.

Close enough that Cedric could see the way his shirt pulled across his shoulders, the elegant line of his throat, the way his eyes were tracking Cedric's face like he was memorising it. "But I remember you, Cedric. I remember you very well."

Cedric's brain was short-circuiting, trying to place the face, trying to remember anyone from high school who could have possibly become this. Nothing, no one came to mind.

"I… I don't…"

"Gianni Falcone," the man said, extending his hand like they were at a networking event and not in the private booth of a crime lord. "Though back then, I went by something different. Something more... American."

His predator smile widened. "You really don't remember, do you? The kid who sat behind you in AP Biology. The one you never looked at twice."

And suddenly, horribly, Cedric did remember. Gus Franco, who never spoke in class, who kept his head down and only ever lifted it to stare at Cedric like a little creep. Gus Franco, who…

Oh God.

He was there the day Cedric had publicly confessed his crush on Marcus Chen in the cafeteria. He’d witnessed Cedric's humiliation when Marcus had rejected him. He had seen Cedric run out with tears in his eyes while the whole school watched.

The worst day of Cedric's life.

And Gus Franco, now Gianni Falcone, had been there watching. Why was he meeting people from his old high school all of a sudden?! First Marcus, now Falcone.

"I see you remember now," Falcone said softly, his eyes gleaming with something Cedric couldn't name. Amusement? Interest? Something darker? "That's good. I'd hate to think I was completely forgettable."

One of the other men cleared his throat. "Boss, should we…”

Falcone held up a hand, silencing him without looking away from Cedric. The power in that simple gesture was terrifying.

"Tell me, Cedric," Falcone said, his voice dropping lower, intimate despite the audience. "What's a boy like you doing working in my club? Last I heard, you were supposed to be at Cornell. Veterinary medicine, wasn't it? You used to talk about it in class. How you were going to save animals, make a difference, get out of this city."

Cedric's throat was closing up. "Uh huh. Yep. Things changed."

"Things changed," Falcone repeated, "Yes, I suppose they do." He leaned back, studying Cedric. "You know what's interesting? I own this club. I own half the businesses in this neighbourhood. And I make it my business to know every single person who works for me. Yet somehow, you got hired without me seeing your application. Without me approving it."

Cedric shivered with fear, glancing up at the ceiling, desperately hoping for some angel from heaven to come save him.

"That seems like quite the coincidence, doesn't it?" Falcone's smile never wavered, but his eyes had gone cold. Sharp. "You showing up here, on opening night, after all these years. Working for me, in my club, serving my table."

He demanded. "Who sent you, Cedric?"

"No one. I just needed…"

"Don't lie to me." The words were quiet, almost gentle, which somehow made them more terrifying.

"I have security footage of you arriving in a police van two blocks away. I have a copy of your application that was fast-tracked through HR by someone with system access they shouldn't have had.”

Cedric fumbled, “Wait, how…”

Falcone continued, “I also happen to have a very interesting file on you that includes a five-hundred-thousand-dollar debt to one of my associates." He tilted his head. "And I have to wonder, what kind of desperate, stupid man walks into the lion's den when he could get his head bitten off?”

The booth was silent. The other men were watching now, their expressions ranging from curious to suspicious.

Cedric's hands were shaking, sweat dripped down the back of his neck, and he went pale with fear. He wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go. There were guards at the stairs, and Falcone's men were surrounding him. There was no escape.

He was so fucked.

Falcone stood slowly, and suddenly he was right there, so close Cedric could feel the heat radiating off him; he could count his eyelashes if he wanted to. He was much taller than Cedric had realised, and he had to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with Gianni.

And those eyes. Fuck, those eyes were going to be the death of him.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," Falcone said softly, his hand coming up to cup Cedric's jaw. His touch was like electricity, so warm and deliberate and possessive that Cedric’s knees went weak with need.

His thumb brushed across Cedric's cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted everything else about this moment, and Cedric's breath hitched despite himself.

"And I suggest you tell me the truth. Because I remember you, Cedric Santos. I remember the brilliant student who was going to change the world, and I'm very curious to know what happened to him."

His grip tightened, just slightly. Enough to make his point and make Cedric's pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with danger.

"Who sent you?"

Cedric swallowed hard. He looked into those dark eyes and made a decision that would either save his life or end it.