Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 202

I smirk when I feel Kent check his step just a little before entering the ship's very tiny dining room. Ho cabins we're staying in are usually reserved for officers.

I think it's just a room that they put a table in where we could eat separately from the crew - this ship isn't really accustomed to taking passengers; even the

So, the tiny room that we enter is very, very full of people that Kent isn't used to mingling together. But don't think anyone sees it except for me as Kent immediately regains his composure and ducks through the door, nodding around to my dad and Janeen, and then Daniel and Jerome, who are certainly standing closer than they ever have in Kent's presence befo

I grin at them, knowing that the jig is up, and that they're both uncomfortable with it. But I'm pleased

"Dad!" I gasp, dashing away from Kent's side to throw my arms around my pops, who hugs me tight. "Hey, little girl," he says, laughing. "Surprised to see me?"

"A little," I say, beaming at him as I pull away. "But so, so glad you decided to come."

them not pretending anymore.

"Well," he says, running a warm hand over my shoulder and my arm, "someone's gotta be a grandpa to this little baby."

I grin at him, thrilled, and hug him again before turning - a little awkwardly - back towards Kent. Janeen watches it all with a huge smile on her face, dying to see this go down.

"Dad, you remember Kent, yes?"

But Papa Thompson, as always, declines to rise to the bait.

"Kent," my dad says, coming forward and holding out a hand, smirking at the man who had him throw in the trunk of a car the last time he saw him.

"Mr. Thompson," Kent says evenly, his face not giving anything away about how he feels about re-meeting this man he treated so terribly, and after he's knocked up his daughter to boot. Oh, and been the cause of some serious criminal mischief that made us all flee the country. I glance at Janeen and break into a huge grin too, enjoying it.

"Mr. Thompson is a bit formal, don't you think? These four have been calling me Papa," dad says, his smirk deepening as he sees Kent's lips tighten with distaste. "But I suppose someone else deserves that title, these days." Dad gives Kent a wink and Kent sighs as he takes his hand back.

Janeen and I burst out laughing and I turn away to say hello to Daniel and Jerome, knowing that Kent would probably die rather than call my dad papa, or let anyone call him by the name. Except maybe the baby. We'll have to see.

Things are easier after that, my dad having broken the tension. Daniel, Jerome and dad sit down at the table as a cook comes in with some tureens of food. As he places them on the table, Janeen moves closer to Kent, peering up at his face.

"Hey, did you guys even clean this?" she says, standing on her toes to get a better look at the cut on Kent's head.

"It's fine," he murmurs, trying to lean away. "I'll get to it after dinner."

"No, let me," she says, firm as she snatches a clean napkin and a glass of water off the table. I sit down at the table Daniel on Daniel's left - he's my husband, after all - and watch, a wide grin on my face.

"Janeen," Kent says, pulling his head away from her as she dabs the napkin in the water and reaches for him.

"Kent!" she scoffs, and then she smacks him on his arm. "Would you just let me? I know what I'm doing." Kent purses his lips, his eyes going directly to me. "Is this where you got it from?" he asks, his voice tight.

"Got what, Kent?" I ask, my voice light and innocent. "Janeen is just trying to help."

"Stubborn," he murmurs as she hauls him over to the chair next to me and presses hard on his shoulders to get him to sit.

"Helpful," I correct, patting him on the knee as Janeen leans close.

Kent hisses and flinches away as Janeen begins to dab at the cut on his forehead. "God, do you even know what you're doing?"

"Of course, I do, I'm a stripper," she murmurs. "All strippers know first aid."

"What?" he breathes, looking up at her, baffled. "That is...not true."

"Yeah well," she says absently. "This one does. Stay still."

And Kent, to his credit, lets her dabs at the wound before heading to a first aid kit attached to the far wall. The cooks finish laying our meal out on the table while Janeen rifles through the kit and Kent looks around the table, I think conflicted about what to say or do.

The rest of us my dad excepted, probably - are a little confused too. We're all very, very used to Kent being in charge - but as I look around I see that Daniel and Jerome are - perhaps unconsciously - turned towards me.

Because I'm the one who's taken the lead in these past few months, haven't I?

How strange, I think. Because immediately, immediately when I saw Kent again I was ready to hand it all over - all the power, all the responsibility, all the decisions. But as I look around, I realize that...I'm perhaps the only one who wants that.

I turn to Kent, eager to see what he thinks, and am a little relieved to find that he's not staring at me. Instead, he's looking around at everyone else, watching them watch me.

But however he feels about it, Kent takes it in stride as Janeen comes back over with a little rubbing alcohol and a bit of gauze.

"So," Kent says, looking around at everyone and then hissing as Janeen dabs at his head.

"Sorry," she murmurs, still dabbing, but not interrupting.

Kent winces again but doesn't let it stop him. "Where, exactly, are we headed?"

Even though they know the answer to Kent's question, Jerome and Daniel turn to me, which makes me smirk. I lean forward and take a roll out of a little basket, as well as a wrapped pat of butter. "I think everyone should get something to eat before we get to the big stuff," I say quietly, assuming command and declining to answer Kent's question immediately, though I'm not really sure why. Maybe...because I can. Or to see what happens.

To my slight surprise, and certainly my pleasure, my family complies with me. Daniel and Jerome stand and start passing around plates, filling them with food as I quietly butter my roll. The entire time, I'm aware that Kent's eyes are on me.

When the roll is good and buttered, I turn to Kent as I take a bite, holding his gaze as I do, chewing quietly.

"Well look at you," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth turning up just a little.

"Look at me," I whisper back, holding his gaze. But then I give him a little wink. "Troops work better on full bellies," I say, looking up at Daniel and raising my voice so he can hear me. "Plus, your son brought you a present. Didn't you?"

"Oh yeah!" Daniel says, brightening. And then he moves swiftly to a little bag in the corner, pulling out a bottle of Macallan 15 Year whiskey - Kent's favorite bottle, which he always kept stocked in the house. Kent groans softly when he sees it and runs his palm over his face. I laugh a little, seeing him almost salivate. Daniel laughs too, giving us both a wink and then pointing around the table to see who wants a glass.

Everyone raises a hand but me. I just scowl, jealous, because even though I don't like the taste, I could certainly use a drink on a day like today.

And even as I smile around at my family, Kent at my side - the one thing I wanted, the one thing I gave up my entire life for...

The image of my father flashes before my eyes - his throat cut, his head lolling, his eyes wide and staring as the blood flows from his opened throat -

I wince, pressing my eyes shut and looking away.

Kent's hand is on my knee in an instant. I take a deep breath before turning to him and nodding. "I'm all right," I say, glancing around and pleased to see that no one else noticed.

"What was it?" he murmurs, glancing at my stomach.

"Nothing," I reply, giving him a soft smile. "I'll...can I tell you later?" And then I nod subtly towards everyone else, implying that I don't want to ruin our festive atmosphere. Kent looks at me seriously for a moment before he nods, his hand tightening on my knee. "The moment you're ready," he says quietly. "We'll go. All right?"

"Okay," I say, smiling at him and then taking another bite of my buttered roll, the only thing that I feel like I can stomach at the moment. My usually voracious appetite has been dulled by the stresses of the day. I'm sure it will come back soon but...I take a deep breath, willing myself back into cheer.

Because it's a happy day, it really is. I got what I wanted and it all went off without a hitch. And I planned it, after all - I knew the cost. I paid it gladly, even if I did take an emotional hit. Daniel hands Kent his glass - one ice cube, as usual - and Kent takes a moment to take a long, lingering sniff of it.

"Oh god," my dad says, across the table, coughing and sticking out his tongue as he stares down into his glass. "This is rough. Do they have any 7-Up in the kitchen?"

Kent laughs a little, shaking his head before taking a lingering sip. "I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Thompson," Kent says, his eyes closed. "This is the good stuff." And as his hand tightens again on my knee, I know he doesn't just mean the drink.