Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Gifts

Chapter 14 – Meeting my Mafia Dad–1

The party is, above all, impressive. Drinks are flowing, a whole twelve–piece band is at the back of the room playing hits from the fifties and sixties. Everyone is having a good time and, thank god, mostly ignoring me.

Even though it’s technically my party, everyone’s too caught up in their own business to do much more than send me a curious glance.

I’m grateful for Daniel, who sticks close by my side. Even though he was raised in this environment, I can tell he’s more comfortable with me, sneaking sips of his champagne and making wry comments that only I can hear.

I can’t help but laugh at the things he says. He’s right – we always did get along.

Fiona sweeps around the room, looking almost indecently sexy in her black Versace gown. Looking around, though, I can see that she has competition for her daring choice of clothes. This group of mob bosses and wives do tend towards the sexy.

There are lot of women’s bodies on display around me, many of them enhanced with plumped lips, breasts, asses. Whatever they felt was lacking.

In comparison, I look demure in my sweeping blue gown. But Fiona picked well – if she had put me in something that showed

I smile up at him, pleased by his compliment. I knew he wouldn’t say it unless he meant it.

We both watch as Fiona greets new guests, directing servants to take their fur coats and ensuring that they have drinks in their hands within half a minute.

“She’s really the hostess here,” I say, fascinated. “What would your dad do without her?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says, studying her. “She’s definitely taken up that wifey sort of roll.” He shrugs. “But who knows, my dad is fickle. One wrong move and she could be out the door.”

I look up at him, wondering if that’s why he keeps his distance from her, emotionally. How many mother figures has Daniel had in his life who have disappeared in the night, never to be seen again?

Beyond that, where is his real mom? I frown, making a mental note to ask some other time.

Daniel gives me a smile and then clinks my empty champagne glass with his. “Refill?” he asks.

I give him a nod and he heads off to the bar. I tap my foot to the music, enjoying it while I look around at all of the guests. Is my father here yet? Will I even recognize him when he arrives?

A voice rumbles, shockingly close to my ear. “If you like the music,” it says, sending shivers down my spine, “why don’t you dance?”

He stares baldly down into my face, his own only inches away. My heartbeat ratchets up.

“Um,” I say, working to calm myself. God, why does he always get me so worked up, just by standing next to me? “I’m not much of a dancer.”

He smirks, his eyes traveling over my body, taking in the way I look in this too–gorgeous gown. “Shame,” he says. “That dress was made for dancing. You should let them see you in it.”

I blush. That was breathlessly close to a compliment for Kent

Lippert.

leaning even closer to murmur a secret in my ear. “I met your mother

—

at him. “You – you knew my

very beautiful. She had hair much like yours,” he says, his voice wandering with memory as he raises a

sad to have never seen her

that.

B

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Gifts

—

Meeting my Mafia

Dad–2

and pulls his gaze away, scanning the

widen. I mean, of course it was the whole point of the evening, but

I’m terrified.

his jaw as he observes my reaction. “Chin up, girl,” he says,

embody

he sees who I’m talking to. When Kent catches sight of him, he nods. “Good,” Kent

hands my glass of champagne to me, his father holds out a black velvet box to him. Frowning with confusion, Daniel takes and opens it. His face falls slack as he sees what’s inside.

jaw drops when

diamond sitting on

out the box to him. It’s

fingers shaking

this a tacit agreement to the engagement? Or some sort of ploy for when I meet my father? Is Kent trying to mark me as part of his own family, even as I

though, by the feeling of the ring sticking at my

pushes harder, but it won’t budge.

looking between us. “I think it’s too small.”

bite my lip, embarrassed. I guess Daniel’s mom had slimmer fingers

aside, taking my hand in his own. Deftly, he angles the ring so that it slips over the knuckle, and then presses down. I look up into his eyes as the ring slides home to the base of

my breath, almost, as I feel my cold hand in his warm one, the weight

me, his lips parting

out of his father’s grip, holding it gently in his own. He gives his

Fay,” Daniel says, looking me

focusing on the ring. This incredible, gigantic,

It’s beautiful, but…

more, the room goes quiet, the band dying awkwardly off as they notice

grey dress only a few steps behind. Following her are at least four guards,

count.

–