Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father by Caroline Above Story

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I steady myself a little bit in the car, and Jerome helps, realizing that I’m seriously rattled. So he does his best to make me laugh, cracking jokes and holding my hand the whole way home. 

I’m smiling at him, grateful, as we drive through the gate and head for the garages at the back of the house. 

“You all right, Fay?” he asks quietly as we pull into the garage and he parks the car. 

“Yeah,” I say, and then I take a deep breath. “Thanks, Jerome,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze as I move to undo my seatbelt. He’s about to crack another joke in reply when I see him go 

still and then feel him rip his hand from mine. Confused, curious, I turn towards the windshield and see Kent standing there, glaring at both of us. 

“Shit,” I murmur, moving slowly and talking fast as I realize that Kent just saw Jerome holding my hand. “Can you please just tell him that you’re sleeping with Daniel? So that he doesn’t kill you?” 

“It will be a race,” Jerome mullers back, reaching for his door handle, “to see what makes him cut my head off faster: the sight of me holding your hand, or the news that I’m fucking his 

son.” 

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And I almost burst out laughing at that, but I glance at Kent again, and the laugh dies in my mouth. So I take another deep breath and step out of the car, turning to face him. 

“You’re home early, Fay,” Kent says, stepping closer to me and glaring at Jerome, his expression clearly communicating I’ll deal with you later as Jerome heads back into the house, shutting the 

door behind him. 

“I needed to,” I say, stepping close to Kent and then hesitating, glancing towards the door before stepping closer and wrapping my arms around his waist, needing a moment to feel him close to me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

Kent hesitates a moment before wrapping his own arms around me, holding me tight to him and dropping a kiss to the top of my head before letting me go and stepping back. His expression is sorry, I can read his regret all over his face – if it were up to him, he’d hold me as long as I needed. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, looking at me warily, clearly torn between being worried for me and suspicious. 

And I swallow the truth a little. I’m sorry because I broke the rules – I let Ivan touch me – but suddenly, I really, really don’t want him to know. So I lie. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get more information,” I say, giving a sad little shrug. 

Kent sees through me, I think, a little bit. But he lets me continue, I think because he can see that I’m truly rattled. “What did you get, Fay?” he asks, his posture shifting as he realizes that 

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this is serious. And suddenly, as I look at him, there’s none of my Kent left. Just the Mafia King. 

“A timeline,” I say quietly, straightening my shoulders and looking up into his face. “One week,” I say, my voice steadier than I thought it would be. “Ivan told me I have one week to get out of this house. Or else I’ll probably die. With the rest of you.” 

B