“Leona, where did you get that?” my mother asks with a sudden panic, her eyes staring at the gun I’m holding.
My grandmother laughs, a sense of pride in her smile making me eager to press the barrel to my own head. Not because I’m suicidal, but because I want to see the look on her face. Will she panic, or will my being gone be easier for her so she can replace me. With me out of the way, they can have their precious legacy and go about their thuggery. Let my father come back and see the carnage he left behind, let him feel the guilt as much as his hurt has riddled through my soul from the very day he left me behind.
This whole marriage scheme had to be Kieran’s idea, it’s too coincidental for me to run into him after all these years and then this horrid offer is placed on the Bravado table.
Lowering my gun, I take a breath. The oxygen to my lungs feeling like ice dousing a wildfire withering inside my chest.
“What is your decision, Leona?” Grandma presses, a look of annoyance making her sweet old lady aspect comical. Looking to her, the gun still in my hand, I raise my left brow. She wants me to decide my future now. To marry the devil, or refuse and let a war begin.
“It’s ten in the morning and I’m still wearing my bathrobe, give me time to think it over, yeah?”
Dominic gives me an evil glare, and I return the gesture before walking away.
“Was that necessary?” he asks, following me into the grand foyer.
“Very,” I reply, taking the stairs back up to my room. But honestly, I’m still surprised of my own actions. I would never hurt Dominic. Suddenly, I’m not so sure he knows that. I stop mid step and look down to him.
“I’d never hurt you, Dominic.” My voice softer, giving me a Jekyll and Mr. Hyde feeling.
He licks his lips and gives a curt nod. “I know, but you know you’re going to have to decide the fate of this family, little cuz,” he reminds me, and that angry rush returns. My nails biting into the polished railing.
Marry Kieran DeAngelo? I’d rather die.Sitting on my high back duchess purple accent chair, where I’ve been all day. My arms draped over the black rolled wooden arm. I’ve watched normal people walk about the streets all day until the sun set behind Central Park. The whole time I’ve sat here I mulled the idea of marrying that monster, Kieran, who will one day take his father’s place and become the most ruthless man in New York. It makes me nauseous. I never thought I’d marry anyone. I like being alone. My face turns into a sneer thinking about sharing a bathroom with that man, or to eat breakfast across the table from him on Sunday mornings. These things I tell myself are true when I think of what the tabloids have said about Kieran, but temptation is a door left open for a reason and goddamn if I don’t want to take a peek. I want to know what makes Kieran tick, what makes him the man he is today. We grew up in similar upbringings, I can’t help but be attracted to someone who is one of my own. Right? The door to my room opens and my mother rushes in like she’s being sneaky. My brows furrow.
“Leona,” she whispers, hurrying to my side.
Sitting up, the hairs on my neck stand with alert.
She’s grasping my hand tightly and I feel keys against my palm. My eyes snap to hers.
“Go. Run. Get as far away from here as you can,” she begs, her dull grass colored irises glossing over with tears.
“But earlier, you said you wanted me to marry Kieran, now you want me to run?”
“If I spoke my truth it would only have made things worse. You have to leave now, before it’s too late!” she continues.
“I can’t leave you behind.” I cup her face, seeing her upset makes me sad. If I leave, they might hurt her, or worse, kill her.
“If you marry that monster, you will be summoned into a vast darkness that not even the lord can save you from, running is your only option.” She lets go of my hand and it’s then that I notice the sweaty wad of cash.
Biting my bottom lip, I mull it over. Running. I could go be someone else, someone normal.
“Go. Don’t think about it. Just go.” She pulls me up from my chair and throws her arms around me into a close hug. The smell of her face cream strong.
“No, they’ll kill you,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“I’ll be fine. But you won’t. You have to go. If you’re not here, they have nothing to fight over, Nothing to take! Don’t you see!” She begs me to leave, her heart falling out of her chest and into my hands.