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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protest as we arrive at the car, quickly

and slamming the door behind him as I fasten my seatbelt. “You just didn’t

communication device,” I tease,

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

for a few

surprises me.

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

is my brilliant

here?” he asks, turning to me. “Are you like…getting

seeing my dad,” I murmur, turning to look away out the

Chapter 281

Jerome sighs, shaking his

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now at

he asks, gripping the steering wheel tight in his hands. “Just…be a mafia bride? Dress in pretty things, go ride your

really think I’d be happy with that?” I

me and staring at me like I’m an idiot. “Who wouldn’t be happy with that?”

mafia princess?”

and staring out the windshield. “But

ask, interrupting, a little miffed at his implications. “Is that the difference?”

see in expression that I’ve caught him a bit. “Not born to it,”