Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 236

Daniel stares at me, then, his whole face going red as he clenches his teeth. I freeze in my surprise, my eyes going wide. Never- ever have I seen Daniel lose his temper like this. He’s usually so even controlled, in his own way, like his dad. But as he glares at me, shaking his head a little bit, his hands splayed wide and tense on the table. I can see that he’s about to burst.

I open my mouth, desperate to say something, to break the tension, looking around a little frantically, when I suddenly see Kent striding over to us.

Daniel looks up at his father, transferring his rage to him now, but Kent just looks evenly down at his son. Not angry, not responding to his son’s temper, just perfectly calm.

“Get it together, Daniel,” Kent says, his tone unwavering but also not unkind. “Don’t air your dirty laundry at the breakfast table.”

And, to my shock, it works. I watch Daniel reel himself back in, almost physically, tucking his emotions away somewhere deep inside of myself, his face turning back to its normal color and becoming again passive. And while I’m glad that he’s not going to flip out on me, the therapist within me wails, a little, to see how practiced Daniel is at tucking those emotions away.

Because it looks like it’s something he does on the daily. And one

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day, all of those emotions are going to come out. I reach forward, then, taking his hand, looking at him with a great deal of empathy in my eyes. And Daniel leans back in his chair, staring down at himself, looking…just, so defeated.

him on the shoulder and turning back to the galley. “I’ll get you two some

soon as he’s out of carshot. “I never meant to –”

did, Fay,” Daniel says, looking up at me, and my heart breaks to see that his

him, shaking my

his hand from beneath mine. “You can’t. Because his side is not my side.”

But Daniel doesn’t say anything else, just stares down at himself while we wait in silence for Kent to bring our food. When Kent does bring our food, I smile up at him, eager to break the tension at the table, but he just looks impassively at us as he slides the plates onto

into his pockets

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just nods, not moving or saying anything otherwise, and I nod too, still looking

at him a

pauses

at the table, looking down

under his stare. Where was the man I was laughing with this morning? Who held me tight in his arms all night? “What am I supposed to do today?”

asks, apparently confused.

don’t have anything planned, you usually send

second and I feel…well, I feel a little stupid under his gaze. And I