Page 63 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

“So, you’re saying I’m not competent enough to make decisions for myself? That’s just great, Dominic. You know what? Just go to hell,” I said then stormed out of the room and down the hall.

It was just like my first day here, slamming the door closed behind me in the pale-colored guest room. Unlike then, though, my mind tried to poke holes in my anger. It tried to call up an image of Tony, the night he’d walked into my clinic, and the way he left me shaking after. It called up the image of the eleven bullets Dominic had retrieved from my apartment. Eleven bullets that could have been lodged in any of the 206 bones in my body.

***

There was a knock at the door in the late afternoon. It was weak, almost timid. Maria had been the only person to visit me here, and she didn’t knock.

Confused, I stepped toward the door. Dominic had left hours ago.

There was no peephole, but the ever-present guard dogs outside wouldn’t let anyone questionable through. Maybe Dominic had locked the door behind him and forgotten his keys. I smirked at the image of him standing outside the door, forced to knock to get inside his own home.

I debated making him stew a little longer but thought better of it and reluctantly opened the door.

I nearly slammed it shut.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ground out between gritted teeth instead.

“I came to see you. Please, Fallon,” my father pleaded around a giant bouquet of peonies, geraniums, and cosmos—bought with dirty money, no doubt.

“I brought these for you. I thought… Well, I don’t know what flowers are your favorite…”

“Lilies,” I spat, surprising myself.

“Oh,” he said, staring at the bouquet dejectedly.

The guards in the hallway were looking at us. One of them I’d never seen before, but Leandro was there. He shot me a sympathetic smile, and it made me feel little better. His kind eyes bolstered me enough to step back and let my father inside. I smiled at Leandro appreciatively, and he shut the door behind me.

“Fallon,” my father said, placing the rejected bouquet of flowers down on the small table by the door.

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Fallon,” my father reiterated. He fidgeted with the cuff of his sports jacket that seemed to be two sizes smaller than him.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“What?”

“Are you just going to keep saying my name, or are you going to get to the point?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m… I’m sorry. That’s why I came. I had to tell you.”

It wasn’t good enough, not this time.

“You sold me off like a thing, and then didn’t even have the decency to show up to see the transaction take place.”

“You’re angry I didn’t come to the wedding? I couldn’t be there, baby—”

“No! Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me your ‘baby girl’ anymore.”

A father took care of his “baby girl”. He loved her and cherished her. He did not treat her like an object that could be bartered and sold. The back of my throat stung, and I could feel the tears creeping across my eyes, blurring my vision.

“Please, Fallon. Let me explain.” He looked at me with wide beseeching eyes.

A tiny spark lit inside me. My mind salivated for an explanation, for some reason for what he’d done. Words that would somehow make this all right.

I nodded and sat down in one of the big armchairs so he wouldn’t sit down next to me.

He stared at the arm of the chair for a long moment then plopped down in the chair next to mine. He reached out to take my hand, but I drew it back, placing it in my lap to hide the slight tremble.

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