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.

secret in my ear. “I met your mother once, at a party like this.”

—

spin to look up at him. “You – you knew my

his voice wandering with memory as he raises a hand to curl a tendril around his finger. “And she

at him, suddenly terribly sad to have never seen

that.

B

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Gifts

—

Meeting

Dad–2

his lips together, studying me. Then he clears his throat and pulls his gaze away, scanning the crowd. “I have word from your father’s people,” he says. “He’ll be here

was the whole point of the evening, but now that it’s

I’m terrified.

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

nod, trying to embody

me, his steps slowing and his face growing worried when he sees who I’m talking to. When Kent catches sight of him, he

velvet box to him. Frowning with confusion, Daniel takes and opens it. His face falls slack

when Lsoo

the diamond sitting on

sharply, holding out the box to him. It’s not

it. He looks at me and cocks his head to the side. My fingers shaking a little, I raise my hand. As Daniel takes

sort of ploy for when I meet my father? Is Kent trying to mark me as part of

by the feeling of the

but it

dad,” Daniel says, looking between us. “I

guess Daniel’s mom

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

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

stares back at me, his

grip, holding it gently in his own. He

on you, Fay,” Daniel says,

a little, trying to smile back, and then focusing on the ring. This incredible, gigantic, insane rock on my finger.

It’s beautiful, but…

the band dying awkwardly off as

a few steps behind. Following her are at least four guards, probably more, though

count.

–