Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 146

I pull myself out of the shower a ridiculously long time later, only really leaving because the water that was falling on my shoulders had grown colder and colder until I was shivering. I towel myself off, shaking my head a little to consider that while I'm all cried out, my tears didn't bring the relief that I thought they would.

Because honestly, I'm still a wreck about this.

I know what I'm supposed to do now, I think as I wrap my big fluffy white robe around myself and pass into my bedroom, sitting down hard on my vanity's stool, still shivering a little. I'm supposed to leave. Kent gave me his answer to my ultimatum - I said I would go if he didn't tell me, and he didn't. So now...

I'm supposed to go.

But god damn it, where to?

And honestly, I'm fully aware of the fact that I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay right here, with Daniel and with Kent - who are now basically my family. I want to stay here, and work things out, and convince Kent that we can fix this - But really? Is that even worth my time?

I shake my head at my pale face in the mirror as I start to brush the tangles out of my wet hair, feeling very pathetic. Kent has demonstrated time and time again that he doesn't really trust me, that I'm just...a pleasant distraction for him. One of his many, many mistresses. Nothing special.

And if I continue to let him treat me like that...

I mean, I know it was part of the contract. But I always thought it was more.

But now that I know it's how he really feels...

Will I ever be able to respect myself again if I continue in a relationship with a man who just views me as a girl who he just considers his pretty little secret? Who comes to his room every night at his beck and call, and to whom he doesn't give anything in return?

I scowl at myself a little when I think this, because I'm fully aware that he has given me things in return - a great deal of money, a horse, a beach house I've never been to -

But nothing...nothing that I really want. Nothing I really care about.

And as I stare at myself in the mirror I make myself say the words I've been avoiding for a long time now.

"I want him," I confess to myself, my voice soft. "All of him."

And then the tears start to slide down my face again as I realize it's not something that's ever been on the table. That I'll never, ever get this thing that I very, very much want.

Not as cried out as I thought I was, I think, looking down at my hands sitting limply in my lap.

I'm still crying a few minutes later when a sharp knock comes up at the door.

To emotionally exhausted to even really be curious, I slowly stand up and cross to the door. When I open it, no one's standing there, but I'm not surprised. I look down, fully expecting to see a little note delivered. I'm not disappointed.

I pick up the note, bringing it into my room and turning the lock after I close my door. I open the note without even moving to my bed and quickly read the three words printed there in Kent's tiny, precise handwriting. Come downstairs, Fay.

And I stare at it, desperately wanting to see this as a peace offering, as Kent wanting to talk, to make things right.

But it's not. I know it's not.

Because it's not an apology, is it? Or him taking anything back. Or him demonstrating that he trusts me. It's just him, calling to me, telling me to come to his side. So he can do what he always does - distract me with sex so that I forgive him and move on without a second thought.

But I'm not going to do that anymore.

I crumple the note and throw it in my trashcan, taking a deep breath as I head to bed.

Because if I go downstairs now, Kent will have all the information he needs: that I'm so pathetically desperate for him that I'll come whenever he calls, no matter how much he treats me like untrustworthy trash.

It will be, in its essence, permission for him to keep doing it. Evidence that he can treat me like that, and I'll still come when he calls.

And as I lay down on the bed and flick off my light, I'm a little surprised by myself. Because I didn't realize I had this much pride.

Learning a lot about myself these past few weeks, I think, closing my eyes. And then I do my very best to clear my mind and force myself to sleep, hoping desperately that I'll feel better in the morning. That things will be clearer.

And I almost make it to sleep - am in that half-daze pre-dream state - when I jump to hear the intercom on my wall buzz, which it so rarely does.

"Fay," Kent's voice comes through, stern.

I sit up in bed, surprised, staring at the intercom as if I can see him through it. But I don't get up.

"Damn it, Fay," he growls. "Come downstairs. I want to talk to you."

And I consider it - I honestly do. Because all I want right now is to fly through the house, and through all the doors, and directly into his arms - for him to tell me that it's okay. That it's all better.

But I know that it's not. And I sigh, desperately sad, because nothing has changed. It's still just Kent snapping his fingers and me running to him, tongue lolling, tail wagging.

And even though I know I'm precisely that desperate, heartsick puppy who wants to come back no matter how many times he kicks me...I shake my head.

Because I just can't do it. I sigh, looking down into my lap, and then I jump again when I hear the intercom buzz a third time.

"Fay!" he almost shouts, clearly pissed now. And my eyes go wide as I hear him grumble a few frustrated curses, but then the intercom goes silent.

I wait a few seconds for another noise, but when none comes I just sigh and stand up, knowing I'm too shaken to sleep now. So, I move to my wardrobe, and strip off my fluffy robe, and pull on the warmest, comfiest, least sexy pajamas I have - blue flannel, button down, with little stars on them - and crawl back into my bed.

After looping my still-damp hair onto my head in a messy bun, I pick up a book from my nightstand, flick on my reading light, and start to read, trying to wipe thoughts of Kent from my mind.

The book is a good one - I'm quickly engrossed in the romance of it, the quick twists and turns of the plot, the plight of the heroine which is, indeed, quite shocking.

But nothing shocks me more than a sudden noise in my own room.

And my jaw drops open as I hear the door in the back of my wardrobe pop.

And then see the wardrobe's door slowly press open.