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.

looks around and shrugs.

I stare at the long white butcher’s apron wrapped

while I look at him, I quickly spit it out and close my

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

a buttered slice of crusty Italian

head up to see that he’s smirking at

am surprised.

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

he looks up at his dad. “She

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.

heading back to the kitchen.

and eagerly start to eat, shaking

plate is half cleared, Kent comes back with a tiny cappuccino that he slides next to my plate. I give him a smile

bitter liquid that coats my tongue, balanced by the

see Kent staring down at me,

my cheek and nose. Why is he looking at

B

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12 – Breakfast with

Kent says, his voice

say, hesitating. “Is there something

of apricot and

I raise my thumb to my

watches me do it.

Alden to hear anything except that you were treated like

that I’m more captive than guest here. I’m fed good food not for my pleasure,

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

only have one father now, Fay. You have no ‘dad.‘ Though if

laughs darkly at Daniel too.

Kent’s

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