Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 12 – Breakfast with Daddy–1

I spend a restless night in my new room. When the clock reads 7:00, a knock comes at my door and it opens without waiting

for a response. I glare and make a mental note to somehow get a lock.

“Ah! You’re awake.” The same woman who dressed me last night bustles into the room. “You’re already late, my dear.”

“Seven?” I ask, looking at the clock again. “Seven is late?”

“The household starts at five,” she says, coming over and starting to make the bed while I’m still in it.

When I head for the door in my pajamas, she makes a small noise of warning. I look back at her. “You’ll want to change, my dear,” she says. “This house dresses for its meals.”

No one is downstairs in the hall when, dressed in tight fawn–colored pants and a silky green sweater, I walk down the stairs. I hear some noise at the end of the hall and push through the little door there.

I blink in surprise as I suddenly find myself in a gigantic kitchen filled with people. There are mismatched tables scattered all around and, behind a low wall, a restaurant–sized cooking range. From it wafts the scent of breakfast foods – sharp with onions and rich with butter.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, giving me a happy grin and sitting back down in his place at a small table.

“Um,” I say – honestly, when was the last time I ate – but my stomach answers for me, giving a big growl.

He laughs lightly as I sit. “Good, we’ll get you something.” He raises a hand to signal someone by the cooking range.

The room is just buzzing with people. Guys in suits drinking tiny cups of espresso, guards pass with guns – big guns – passing through, housekeeping staff on their way to their jobs.

–

Everyone is chatting happily, moving along in what is clearly a

well–oiled machine.

“Wow, it’s so busy in here,” I say, staring around at everyone.

Daniel looks around and shrugs. “I guess.”

At that moment, I’m shocked, again, to see Kent come around the corner from the cooking area carrying a big plate of food. I stare at the long white butcher’s apron wrapped around his waist, the taut strings only serving to emphasize his trim figure, his broad shoulders.

When I realize I’m biting my lower lip while I look at him, I quickly spit it out and close my mouth.

“Good morning, Fay,” Kent says, laying the plate in front of me. Shocked, I look back and forth from him to the plate, noting that his apron is spotted with grease.

next to sausage and peppers, accompanied by a buttered slice of crusty Italian bread. It looks delicious.

“Surprised?” Kent says. I whip my head up to see that he’s smirking at me.

Truly, I am surprised.

“An Italian can’t call himself a man if he can’t cook his own breakfast,” Kent says, glancing around the room with a proud smile. “A breakfast he’d feed his mother, at that.”

“Do you want some coffee?” Daniel asks, leaning forward. I nod and he looks up at his dad. “She takes cappuccino. Is anyone free –”

“I’ll see it’s done,” Kent says and I follow his eyes to a gigantic vintage Gaggia Orione espresso machine in the corner. My jaw drops – it’s probably the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Eat up, girl,” Kent says, heading back to the kitchen.

I pick up my fork and eagerly start to eat, shaking my head at Daniel who just laughs.

A few minutes later, when my plate is half cleared, Kent comes back with a tiny cappuccino that he slides next to my plate. I give him a smile in thanks and take a sip.

It’s absolutely delicious. I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and savoring the taste of the bitter liquid that coats my tongue, balanced by the sweetness of the milk. These flavors are complimented, somehow, bv…

freeze when I see Kent staring down at me, his eyes somehow… hungry.

A blush spreads across my cheek and nose. Why is he looking at me like that?

B

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Gifts

Chapter 12 – Breakfast with Daddy–2

“So you like it,” Kent says, his voice low, possessive.

“I do,” I say, hesitating. “Is there something extra…”

“Amaretto,” he says. “Adds notes of apricot and bitter almonds.”

“It’s delicious,” I say, holding his gaze while I raise my thumb to my mouth to wipe a little fleck of foam from my bottom lip.

He watches me do it.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I don’t want Alden to hear anything except that you were treated like a princess in my house.”

I suddenly look back at my plate as I remember that I’m more captive than guest here. I’m fed good food not for my pleasure, but so that I’ll give my “father” a good report when he comes to claim me.

“It’s almost as good as my dad’s breakfast,” I murmur, suddenly angry. At Kent, but also at myself. For forgetting.

I feel a finger on my cheek, firmly turning my face back towards the Mafia King. “You only have one father now, Fay. You have no ‘dad.‘ Though if you’re really missing it,” he smirks cruelly at me here, his voice slow and luxurious, “you can always call me daddy.”

Kent laughs darkly at Daniel too.

I turn my head harshly. Kent’s fingers lose their grip.

“If you want me to respect you,” I say, my voice shaking with anger and embarrassment, “you should be more polite to me. I’m sure my father won’t like to hear that I’ve been disrespected in your home.”

Kent puts his whole hand on my cheek this time, turning my head to make me look at him. “You will receive respect,” he says, his voice low and even, “when you learn your place. Say thank you for your breakfast, Fay.”

I stare up at him, breathless, as he raises his other hand – a soft cloth napkin in it – to dab gently at my chin. He lingers, though, staring at my mouth, dragging the napkin across the length of my lower lip.

“Th…thank you…” I whisper, captivated, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, releasing his hold on me and turning to walk back to the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel mutters, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I watch Kent go, shocked and confused. Fascinated.

As he turns the corner into the kitchen, I realize that I have goosebumps all over my arms. I shudder and rub my hands up and down my forearms to warm myself up.

He sighs as he raises his coffee to his lips. “The latter, unfortunately. You get used to it.”

I shake my head, thinking that I don’t think I ever will, when the door to the kitchen flies open and a woman breezes in.

My eyes follow her, unable to look away as she saunters into the cooking area, her fuzzy slippers flopping on the floor, her silky leopard–print robe barely tied.

“I thought you dressed for breakfast in this house,” I mutter, an eyebrow raised.

“We do,” Daniel says. “But Fiona…also does what she wants.”

–

I hear a laugh come from the kitchen – a full–throated, happy thing – and am surprised to see this woman throw her arms around Kent’s neck, standing on her tiptoes to demand a kiss. novelbin

He obliges her and I feel something twist inside me. He whispers something in her ear and she turns, suddenly, to look right at

1. me.

She gives me a broad, red–lipped smile while he says something else in her ear. I give her a tentative smile back, so she winks and blows me a kiss.

Her energy is effervescent. I can’t help but like her.

“Who is she?” I ask, still watching her.