Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 99

“Fay,” Kent says, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to rein in his temper. That little muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow. “You’re not to come down to the basement. I was clear about this.”

I give him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can push it. “But it’s so interesting down here,” I say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. “For instance,” I say, my voice light, “I had no idea you’d consent to get married in just a linen shirt – no suit coat even – very bohemian of you –”

Kent takes two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then, he glances down at it, as if surprised.

We’re both silent for a moment while he stares at the photo album. “I haven’t looked at this in…years…” he says quietly, surprised into a moment of reverence.

I consider him, glad to have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while he’s not glaring at me. His face is lined with years of worry – perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know, but…well, I wonder if he carries more than he needs to.

For instance, did he really need to come down here to yell at me

Chapter 99

2/3 for looking through photo albums? What harm, really, was I doing?

what joy does Kent really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant need for control, that consumes his time? The worry and need for control

the photo album, wondering if

you love

I hear myself ask it. Again, my mouth has run away with me – speaking my thoughts before I consider whether

wise.

back onto the shelf as if it doesn’t matter to him. But I

back into the chair, still studying him, feeling as if I’ve just figured out a little piece of the Kent puzzle. I smile a little again,

of course, ticks

serious, Fay,” Kent says, his voice low and serious. “There are rules in this house, and they’re in place for a

Chapter 99

3/3

own, my own temper a little riled at this renewed threat. “What,

do, chain me to the table in your little torture chamber? Again?”

this week.”

say something – scold me, probably-