Page 48 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

Fallon

All night, I tossed and turned while Dominic’s words followed me from one nightmare to the next.

“You’ll want for nothing.”

I dreamed of sitting like a China doll atop a veritable sea of gold. I dreamed of money and gems filling up the apartment, surrounding me until there was no room left for air. I dreamed of falling in a deep, dark hole where I was crushed, little by little, by rubies and emeralds and diamonds. They glittered so prettily as their weight ground my bones to dust.

But sometimes, every once in a while, he was there in my dream beside me, gasping for air or screaming beneath the weight of his fortune.

He didn’t want this marriage either. I didn’t feel sorry for him. He’d chosen to accept his bondage rather than fighting for my freedom or his own. But I did feel something. Maybe it was envy. Not for his money or his power. I didn’t care about those things. But he felt such a bond to a whole group of people that he would sacrifice himself for them.

Would I have willingly offered up such a sacrifice for my father? As much as I wanted to believe I loved him that much, I knew the real answer. I knew that there were limits to the lengths I’d go, just as there were limits to what he would do for me.

The front door of the apartment opened, and I jolted a little in my seat. I was sitting at the small dining table in a pair of tights and a T-shirt I’d found in a duffel bag Dominic must have left outside my door.Mydoor—how quickly I’d come to see a room in his home as my own.

He walked into the kitchen, but before I could decide whether or not I was talking to him today, he held out his hand.

“Come with me,” he said.

Panic shot out from the core of me, making my hands tremble and my heart pound a frantic beat. His father had said seven days. I had days left before they forced me to marry him.

“I’m not dragging you down the aisle yet, Fallon. I promise,” he said, holding out his hand a little further.

He could be lying, but it didn’t feel like it, and more than that, what would be the point? He could throw me over his shoulder like a caveman and drag me wherever he wanted. And damn, I hated how much the idea excited me as much as it pissed me off.

Reluctantly, I took his hand and followed him to the front door. A tiny thrill shot down my spine at the prospect of getting out of here, even if the reprieve was only temporary.

The thrill dissipated, though, as he drove me across the city. No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn’t tell me where we were going.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as he slowed to a stop in front of a big building with a sign that readShooting Rangein large black letters across the front. “A shooting range, really?”

It seemed like a bad idea on his part to “train” a woman to fire a gun when that woman might very well be tempted to use that gun on him. Then again, if he wanted to take that risk, then so be it.

He smiled smugly. “It doesn’t matter what I teach you, Fallon. You’ll never be able to outgun me, so don’t even try,” he said like he’d read my mind. I really wished he’d stop doing that.

As if he wasn’t the least bit worried about what harm might come to his person, he slid out of the driver’s seat and came around to open my door.

He led me inside the building, but no one stood at the reception counter. Strange. And even stranger was that not one person tried to stop Dominic from leading me through the door on the left to a large room that was segregated in rows with paper targets hung at the end of each one. Shouldn’t someone have stopped him from walking around like he owned the place? Then again, it seemed like no one stopped the Lucas from doing anything—not if they wanted to keep breathing.

He closed the door behind us and placed the case and the box he was carrying down on a small table. He stood there with his hands behind his back and an expectant look on his face.

“What?” I asked when he made no move to explain.

“It’s for you. Open it,” he said with a smirk as he motioned to the case on the table.

“What is it?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

After unfastening the clips, I lifted the lid and looked in. A sleek black handgun rested on top of dark gray foam.

A humorless laugh bubbled up and slipped out. “A gun? Is this some kind of joke?”

But there was nothing humorous about Dominic’s expression.

“Why are you giving me a gun?” I asked.

“It’s a gift, Fallon. But I’d like you to keep it on your person wherever you go,” he said, apparently forgetting that he hadn’t let me leave his freaking apartment on my own. “It’s a Springfield Hellcat—the name seemed fitting.”

He winked at me.

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