Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 182

Jerome and I come back a few hours later after an afternoon

of light chat. We kept it easy, neither of us wanting to address

the elephant between us. Instead, we talk mostly about horses.

When we enter the house we’re too busy laughing, the dregs of

our milkshakes still in our hands, to notice Kent standing in the

hallway staring at us.

Jerome notices first, stopping in his tracks and clearing his throat,

the smile dropping from his face. Kent says nothing, just slowly puts his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight to his back foot, giving us both a long stare.

Something about it – I don’t know what, maybe the arrogance in his stance, or the way that he stopped us both in our tracks just by standing there – makes me roll my eyes. Despite everything – all of the trauma of the afternoon, and the crazy intimidation I felt on the third floor last night – Kent’s macho bullshit still makes me want to

push back.

“My dad wasn’t in the mood to feed me,” I report calmly, “so Jerome took me to get cheeseburgers and milkshakes. You want some?” Innocently, I hold my milkshake out to him, straw first.

Kent’s eyes flick to the milkshake and then back up to my face. “No, Fay,” he responds, his voice low. Then he nods to Jerome, dismissing him. Jerome is gone before I can even see him move,

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me,” Kent says,

an inch. “He says you were… disrespectful.” Slowly, he raises a hand to my face, his thumb brushing over the red mark that lingered after my father slapped

1. Kent drops his

that you’re giving me the PG

think you’d like it very much if I told you that he called you a conceited, spoiled,

smile that tugs at my lips as I look

Kent

turns over at the sight of this, at the discovery that I’ve…

I quite

I want to please him

–

am hit with flashes of the

frightened I was

I flinch away, knowing – deep down – that I’m…I’m just not ready

it. Not now.

says, his voice oddly choked as I take a step back from him, looking at the

Chapter 182

say, buying time as I step to the side and work to move past him. “I’m just going to go upstairs

says again, insistent, placing a hand on my

plea to stop. I hesitate at his gentle hand and look up at him. “Please,” he says, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. “Let me make it up to you…”

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