Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 281

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Jerome and I stay at my father’s house for the next few hours, until dark begins to encroach on the day, mostly because…well, I can’t think of a graceful early exit that doesn’t make it look like I’m not scurrying off to Kent to tell him everything my father just said.

Which, quite frankly, is exactly what I want to do.

Instead we stay for the next few hours, drinking Aperol spritzes. with my father and my step–mom, chatting lightly and watching as the Romulus runs around the back yard. The sun has already started to fall when Jerome looks worriedly at his phone and taps its face, asking me, silently, if I’ve checked mine at all today.

I shrug, silently letting him know I didn’t bring a phone. Jerome’s eyes go wide and he exhales a huge, exasperated breath, so I make my excuses and get us out of my father’s house as quickly as I can.

“Are you serious, Fay?” Jerome hisses, taking me by the elbow as we head down the front steps.

“You sure as hell sound like a Lippert now,” I whisper, giving him a little glare. “Why? What’d I miss?”

“Apparently Daniel’s been trying to reach you for hours,” he

Chapter 281

whispers. “You were supposed to be home, and dressed for dinner, 45 minutes ago!”

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I protest as we arrive at the car,

driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him as I fasten my seatbelt. “You just didn’t bring the very tiny, very handy communication device they

I tease, pouting a

and peels out of the driveway, clearly eager to get us home as fast as he can because he

the road for a few quiet minutes before

surprises me.

are you getting into, Fay,” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

my

turning to me. “Are

seeing my dad,” I murmur, turning to look

Chapter 281

Jerome sighs, shaking his

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back to him, a little pissed now at being countered.

the steering wheel tight in his hands. “Just…be a mafia bride? Dress in pretty things, go ride your horse, buy…literally

think I’d be happy with that?” I ask, my voice soft and

turning to me and staring at me like I’m

you want to be a mafia princess?”

no,” he replies, frowning and staring out the windshield. “But I’m a –”

miffed

at me a little, but I can see in expression that