Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 245

I laugh as Kent plants me down on my side of the mattress and stands back, looking me over like I could have possibly been wounded or something. Even though it's a little bit overkill, it's nice to have him fuss over me.

"Are you all right?" he murmurs, sinking his hands into his pockets.

"I'm fine," I say, unable to stop smiling as I pat the bed next to me. "Come to bed."

"In a minute," he murmurs, and then he starts to move around the room, setting things just the way he likes them. I watch as he checks the windows again, and then puts the gun back in its hiding place - strapped to the bottom of the desk, apparently - and then shuts off the lights before glancing towards the fireplace, clearly considering building a fire.

"It's too late," I say quietly, reaching a hand out for him, wanting him near. It's after midnight, after all, and I assume we'll have an early day tomorrow. "Come here."

Kent turns to look at me, his eyes already searing.

My smile deepens as a coil of heat starts to twist within me.

Yeah. We definitely don't need a fire. Not tonight.

Kent, apparently agreeing, prowls over to me and sits on the bed in front of me, reaching for my shoulders. I lean forward, allowing him to push the robe from my arms so that it pools around me. Then, he pulls off his own shirt, tossing it to the floor. My eyes go immediately to his naked torso - god, how did he manage to keep so fit these past couple of months? - but I turn my head to the side, because his movements are slow and deliberate - not at all the furious passion that I know he can get worked into when he wants me.

"Up," he says, putting his hands out and pulling me onto my knees when I place my palms on his. Wordless, he pushes the straps of my bathing suit off my shoulders. I help him then, wiggling and pushing the bathing suit down my body, sliding it over my a*s and sitting back so that I can slip it over my legs, still very curious as to what's happening.

I don't have long to think, though, because when I'm fully naked Kent reaches for me and pulls me into his lap, heaving a deep sigh and touching his forehead to mine as we sit quietly, skin-to-skin. I smile, snuggling into the warmth of his body. "I'm glad you came tonight," he murmurs, his hands slowly roving over my back, my arms. "Even if I perhaps would not have advised your particular methods -"

"And what would you think was better?" I ask, my voice soft and slow. "Sneaking across the living room, risking a peckish Gio catching me while he went to the fridge for a midnight snack?"

"I would advise any method," Kent says, giving me a half-hearted glare, "that doesn't surprise me and make me reach for a gun."

"Well, that's just your trauma response," I murmur, reaching up a hand to brush my palm over his stubbly cheek, butterflies rolling in my stomach at the feel of it against my fingers. "We can work on that."

Kent huffs a tiny laugh and shakes his head at me. I bite my lip a little, marveling at him a bit as he holds me closer. He is just so incredibly handsome, and sweet, and good to me. How did I get so lucky?

His eyes hold mine as one of his hand shifts to my stomach, running softly over my baby bump. "How is the little peanut doing?" he asks.

"Bigger than a peanut now," I say, bursting into a grin. "Almost an heirloom tomato."

"Really," Kent's eyebrows going up as he shifts his gaze to my belly with a clear smile. "Now this I can get on board with. A good Italian fruit."

I laugh, snuggling closer and looking down at my belly, adding my own hand. "Be careful, baby," I say softly. "Daddy's going to be very tempted to turn you into a sauce -"

"A delicious sauce," he adds with a nod. "The best."

I murmur something noncommittal and Kent scowls at me, gripping me tighter until I laugh and admit that his marinara is the best I've ever tasted. But then he grins at me, and I know we're both pleased to have a light moment to joke. "Really, though," I murmur, running a finger down the length of his bare chest. "Do you think tonight went okay?"

"I think it went as well as it was going to go," he replies. "We are, I think, a little lucky that Bianci sent Gio instead of Alessi or anyone else."

"That's what Daniel said," I say, giving a little frown. "Why do you both think that?"

"Because," Kent replies. "Giovanni has always been the least content with what our family does - the most eager to rebel. I suspect that he asked Bianci for the opportunity to come and spy on us today - that maybe he sees Daniel and I as a lifeline to get out, if I'm trying to get out. Or," he says, giving a little shrug, "Gio's just very good at his job and telling us what we want to hear so we trust him. I can't tell."

"Well," I say, raising my eyebrows. "The fact that you can't tell perhaps suggests how good at his job he really is. You're excellent at reading people."

"Well, he's Alessi's son," Kent says consideringly. But then he continues, a little bitterness working into his tone. "And I'm not so good at reading. I missed Ivan and Alden. And Daniel and Jerome."

"Well, the first two were actively trying to deceive you," I murmur, "and the latter...maybe you just have terrible gaydar." I shrug.

Kent laughs openly at this and I grin when I realize that maybe no one has ever said the word "gaydar" to him in his entire life.

"Really, Fay?" he says, and Kent's smile is so genuine that a deep and real pleasure combines with the heat already turning within me. "You think my gaydar is the problem here, the thing putting my family at risk?"

"Yes, Kent," I say, nodding too seriously. "In fact, I've been meaning to break something to you about my own sexual identity ..."

Kent begins to glare at me even as he smiles, anticipating the joke. I click my tongue and shake my head, looking away.

"I mean," I continue, twisting my fingers together in a false awkwardness, "your perfect male form just doesn't do it for me I've tried, but you're just so unappealing -"

Kent growls then, pulling me close against him as he rolls onto his back, making me give a little shriek of laughter as I go with him. "Bullshit," Kent says, pulling me tight against his side and sinking his fingers into my hair as he brings his face close to mine. "My gaydar might be off, but my Faydar -"

I burst into laughter at the term, making him laugh as well.

"That," he continues, smiling at me, "is unfailingly accurate."

"All right, mind reader," I say, wrapping one leg over his hip and using the leverage to turn him so that we're face to face, my stomach pressed against his. "If you're so clever, what is it that I want now?"

"Easy," Kent replies. "I can read you like a book, Fay. My favorite book, that I've read a thousand times and can never get enough of." And then he presses his mouth to mine, answering my question with his actions instead of his words.