Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 43

"Fay," Kent says, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to this."

I give him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can push it. "But it's so interesting down here," I say, turn -very bohemian of you -"

his temper. That little muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow. "You're not to come down to the basement. I was clear about attention back to the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no idea you'd consent to get married in just a linen shirt - no suit coat even

Kent takes two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then, he glances down at it, as if surprised. We're both silent for a moment while he stares at the photo album. "I haven't looked at this in...years.

I consider him, glad to have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while he's not glaring at me. Hi For instance, did he really need to come down here to yell at me for looking through photo albums? W And what joy does Kent really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant need for control, that My eyes flick back to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps an answer there.

"Did you love her?"

I blush when I hear myself ask it. Again, my mouth has run away with me - speaking my thoughts befo Kent raises his eyes suddenly, that glare focused on me again. He doesn't answer my question, just to I lean back into the chair, still studying him, feeling as if I've just figured out a little piece of the Kent Which, of course, ticks him off.

"I'm serious, Fay," Kent says, his voice low and serious. "There are rules in this house, and they're in pl "What," I say, narrowing my eyes into a glare of my own, my own temper a little riled at this renewed t week."

ays quietly, surprised into a moment of reverence.

s lined with years of worry - perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know, but...well, I wonder if he carries more than he needs to. rm, really, was I doing?

mes his time? The worry and need for control that, indeed, results in his panic attacks?

hsider whether it's wise.

e album back onto the shelf as if it doesn't matter to him. But I saw his face a moment ago - I know he's performing a nonchalance he doesn't feel. smile a little again, pleased.

a reason." He folds his arms and glares down at me. "If you do not obey them, you will be punished -"

What, Kent. If I disobey, what are you going to do, chain me to the table in your little t*****e chamber? Again?" I roll my eyes. "We already did that this

Kent opens his mouth to say something - scold me, probably - but I just sigh and press my hands against the arms of the chair, pushing myself up. "Fine," I say, looking at him with exhaustion on my face. "I'll go upstairs."

I walk past him towards the door but he stops me, calling my name. "Fay," he says, half turning to look

I stop in the doorway and wait.

"There are rules in this house. I will not have them broken." Kent holds my gaze steadily. "You can play your little game of defiance all you like, but ultimately?" He stares at me, cold. "I will win. Every time."

A little thrill builds in the bottom of my stomach as I think of the possibility of those challenges, of pushing him, trying him - pushing myself, at that. I'm so interested in this new Fay that I'm seeing develop within me as a result of our interactions. Part of me wants to get to know her more. But the other part? The true Fay, who I've been my entire life? She just wants to live in peace.

"I'll follow your rules, Kent," I say quietly, keeping my face blank. "But in exchange, I will be treated with respect in this house."

He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him, holding up a finger.

"And," I say, continuing my small list of demands. "I'm not going to be held here like a little caged pet. I understand that you have to keep me safe, but I can't spend my whole life sitting in my room upstairs."

My face softens then, betraying, I think, a little of the misery that I sometimes feel in his home. "I'm a whole person, Kent," I say softly. "A real person. I need to have a little bit of freedom. A little bit of a life." He stares at me for a moment, considering, and then gives me a small nod.

I nod as well and then turn, heading out the door and down the long basement hallway towards the steps. Just as I reach the bottom, I hear him call my name again.

I turn to see Kent standing at the door to the little records room, considering me carefully. I raise an eyebrow, curious about what he could want.

"Go and get dressed," he says, his voice even. "I can't take you to the stables, but I'll send someone else with you."

My face brightens instantly and I bite my lip against my joy, not wanting him to see quite how happy he's made me. I feel as if I've gained a little bit of an upper hand here, and I don't want to waste it. Still, I can't be rude.

"Thank you," I say, dipping my head before dashing up the stairs to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, I skip down the stairs to the main floor again and then look around. The door to Kent's office is closed, but I hear a whistle and turn towards the kitchen.

There, leaning against the wall, is Jerome. My face breaks out into a smile - Jerome, good. He's always nice to me, and funny to boot.

"Are you ready?" he asks with a grin, standing up straight.

"Yup!" I say, hurrying down the hall with a big smile.

He pauses, the left side of his smile deepening as he looks at me, taking in my excitement. I stand in front of him for a moment, wondering why he's looking at me like that - what he's waiting for - and then Jerome just laughs, shaking his head and moving towards the garage.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get going. Not every day that I get an assignment to go play with horses in the country."

"Oh," I say, following him into the garage. "Are you riding too?"

"No," he answers, holding the passenger side door of one of Kent's Escalades open for me. "No way Kent would let me ride one of his precious thoroughbreds."

He closes my door then and comes around the car, opening the driver's seat and climbing in.

I consider Jerome, suddenly curious. "Sounds like you know what you're talking about, though, if you know their breeds."

Jerome smirks at me as we pull out of the garage. "I spent four years on the rodeo circuit as a teenager," he says, "which is another reason why Kent won't let me touch a horse. He knows I know what I'm doing, but he doesn't want anyone riding his herd like a cowboy would."

I laugh as Jerome circles a hand above his head, miming a lasso.

"Wow," I say, shaking my head at him and grinning. "I had no idea Kent had such...variety amongst his ranks."

"Stick with me, kid," Jerome murmurs, giving me a friendly smile. "I'm full of surprises."

With that, we head down the road, and I study Jerome as we go. Had I just never noticed it before? Or is Jerome kind of...cute?