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.

and

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

I’m biting my lower lip while I look at him, I quickly spit it out and

front of me. Shocked, I look back and forth from him to the plate, noting that his apron is spotted with grease.

accompanied by a buttered slice of crusty Italian bread. It looks

up to

am

his own breakfast,” Kent says, glancing around the room with a proud smile. “A breakfast he’d feed his

he looks up at his dad. “She takes cappuccino. Is

espresso machine in

says, heading back to

fork and eagerly start to eat, shaking my head

that he slides next to my plate. I give

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

see Kent staring down at

Why is

B

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Gifts

Breakfast

says, his voice

say, hesitating. “Is there something extra…”

notes of apricot

to my

me

anything except that

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

as my dad’s breakfast,” I murmur, suddenly angry.

face back towards the Mafia King. “You only have one father now, Fay. You have no ‘dad.‘

laughs darkly at Daniel too.

Kent’s fingers

and embarrassment, “you should be more polite to me. I’m sure my father won’t like