Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 290

I drink with him, of course, but I start to notice that when I’m on my second drink Daniel’s on his fourth. And on my third, his seventh. Daniel’s bigger than me, of course – he can handle more than I can – but still, I start to see his eyes go half–shut as the night passes and his words slur together. I don’t chide him, realizing that this is what he wants, perhaps needs, after our stressful evening.

Daniel is…sensitive, I know. And while this is my first time at this “maybe my dad will get whacked for power” rodeo, it’s something he’s dealt with all his life. And perhaps the strain on him…I guess it makes sense, in a way. That he’s just so sick of it that all he wants to do is wipe it from his mind.

And there is something about it that I find tempting – the idea that I could wipe it all out, too, for the next few hours, and face none of it. But there’s something else in me that wants to stay sharp, that isn’t finished with the night.

Chapter 290

And as I see Daniel’s phone, resting on the bar,

2/4

continuing to light up with text after text, I realize what it is.

“Give me that,” I say, reaching for the phone as Daniel signals the bartender for another round.

lightly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fuck Kent.

be ridiculous,” I murmur, entering Daniel’s password (which I obviously have memorized) and clicking open his texts to find

out a

off steam. We’re safe. We just…don’t want to be around

and am pleased when a text comes

home tonight. I

Chapter 290 safe.

3/4

vague, and then slide the

Kent. He’s ruining our lives. Why do you even care if

him a bit. “He’s your

a dick,” Daniel insists, and I laugh, shaking my head. “What,” Daniel

“But… I admit that I am less willing to talk shit on your dad than

murmurs, sighing ruefully and taking a too–large gulp of his new drink. “Which

“”