Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 17

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

“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.”

My jaw drops open in shock and my face turns beat red. He laughs a little at my reaction.

“Dad, seriously,” Daniel says, and I glance at him to see anger written on his face.

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.

“Doesn’t he have any boundaries?” I mutter to Daniel. “Or does he just do whatever he wants all the time?”

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.

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

“Fiona,” Daniel says, a little pained. “My father’s mistress. Or, at least…one of them.”