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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we arrive at the car, quickly

into the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him as I fasten my seatbelt. “You

communication device,” I tease,

as fast as he can because he knows that he’ll get blamed because…well. He’s sleeping with one of the bosses, but not the

road for a few quiet minutes before Jerome

surprises me.

Fay,” he asks, his voice

my brilliant

come here?” he asks, turning to me.

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

Chapter 281

sighs, shaking his head.

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a little pissed now at being countered. Jerome, at least, I thought was on

tight in his hands. “Just…be a mafia bride? Dress in pretty things, go ride

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

and staring at me like I’m an idiot. “Who wouldn’t be

to be a mafia princess?”

he replies, frowning and staring out

boy?” I ask, interrupting, a little miffed at his implications. “Is

me a little, but I can see in expression that I’ve

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