Page 57 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

The priest held out the remaining ring to me, a plain gold band nothing like the one that encircled my finger. I picked it up, squeezing it in my hand to hide my trembling.

Dominic held out his hand, and I took hold of it, but I was shaking so much, I was going to drop the ring if I tried to do this.

“It’s okay,limone,” he whispered under his breath.

Though I didn’t agree with him—nothing about this was okay—I used his words and the confidence in them to steady myself long enough to slip the ring onto his finger.

And then it was done. It was over.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announced.

My breath caught in my throat. Apparently, it wasn’t quite done. It really shouldn’t have come as a shock. It was the climactic moment of every wedding—the magical first kiss.

Dominic’s hands settled on my hips, and he drew me close. I could feel every eye in the chapel on me. It made me want to run, but the only way out was to focus on the hands on my hips and the light press of his firm chest against mine. The touch of his lips, the glide of his tongue along the seam of my lips. The mint and scotch flavor of his mouth when I parted for him. Scotch first thing in the morning? It made me feel a little better to know he’d had a drink, maybe two, before the ceremony like he’d needed fortification to get through this. Just like I did.

Seconds or minutes passed. I wasn’t in a hurry. Though we stood in front of a crowd of strangers, I felt sheltered in his kiss.

Too soon, he pulled away, and the sea of strangers applauded our performance. The noise was loud and abrasive. I wanted to cover my ears, but I stood there instead until the priest led us through the chapel to a small room to sign the official papers.

I’d thought this part would have been the most difficult—signing my name as Fallon Moore for the last time—but my hand flowed across the page, signing away my life in a few quick strokes. I’d said the words, I wore the ring. It seemed like nothing more than a formality to sign on the dotted line.

Now the deed was done. Fallon Moore was nothing more than a distant memory, a string of letters lost in time.

I was now Fallon Luca.

Chapter Twenty

Fallon

I sat in the back seat of a long line of black Escalades that transported us from the chapel to a reception hall. Neither Dominic nor I spoke. He seemed caught up in thought, and I had nothing to say.

I was glad it was Leandro driving us to the reception. Though he hadn’t said a word, his presence was reassuring, like it had been in the chapel. It seemed like it would have been easier to strike up a conversation with him, my maid of honor, at the moment than with the silent man, my now husband, sitting next to me, but I had no idea if it was even allowed. There’d been no Mafia-101 class. I had no idea what my role entailed. It felt like I’d just stepped foot into a royal household, and now I had to learn all the rules of proper etiquette, but nobody had given me the damn bible.

At least now that it was all done, Dominic had to let me regain some semblance of normalcy in my life. He wasn’t going to keep me locked in his apartment forever… was he?

I glanced up at him out of the corner of my eye. He was looking right at me.

“You did well,limone,” he said.

I scoffed. My heart was still racing, I was still a little light-headed, and my legs hadn’t felt like they were completely under my control since I’d stepped inside the chapel, but sure, I didwell.

“You don’t think so?” he pressed.

“I think—” I closed my mouth. What I thought was that this was insane, that it was wrong, but I didn’t have it in me to fight with him right now.

He smiled. “You’re learning.”

“What?” I didn’t realize I was in school.

“You’re learning to choose your battles,” he said. He looked so smug.

“This from a guy who kills people?”

He smiled, unperturbed. “You’ll recall that I do choose my battles,limone.I fight the battles that need fighting.”

He was talking about the man who’d handed me up to Tony, and I couldn’t find a voice to argue. It wasn’t that I was okay with murder, but I also couldn’t get the image of those crushed pieces of metal out of my head or the dark look in Tony’s eyes when he’d shown up at my clinic.

The Escalade slowed to a stop in front of a large building. The reception hall, I presumed. I looked at it through the car’s dark windows, imagining the throng of strangers inside.

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