Ch. 116..120: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 116-120

Chapter 116

Natalia goes perfectly still, except for her eyes, which narrow almost to slits.

"Who are you going to see?" she asks, her voice sharp.

"Family business, Natalia," I murmur, aloof, taking a big sip of my coffee and then placing it on the tab "Family?" she asks, leaning forward. "Which family? This one, or your father's?"

"Well, they're one and the same now, aren't they?" I reply, cryptic. And then I let my lips curl in a secre "Will you do all right without me today, sweetheart?" I ask, my voice soft and intimate. I raise a fond h Daniel turns to look up at me, already onto my game and ready to play along. "No," he says, wrapping I laugh and pout at him, looping my hands around his neck and leaning back a little so that my hips p "Prove it," Daniel says, grinning at me wickedly, daring me.

And, laughing a real laugh because I'm so grateful to have him on my side, I let him tug me close and ...well, as if he's his dad.

It's a long, deep kiss, and when I pull away I'm smiling widely at him, genuinely grateful that he's so w calculating. But I ignore her, leaning over the table a little to grab a croissant off the plate in the midd "You guys have an amazing day," I whisper, giving them both a pretty smile. "I'll miss you!" And then I straighten and head for the door.

I'm already past Natalia and Alessi when I see Kent leaning against the wall next to the kitchen door, absolutely falter in my steps when I see him there. But he just nods his head once at me, uncrosses hi Taking this non-censure as rare approval, I smile and head towards the door, thinking that it's done. But as I pass him, I feel the knuckle of Kent's index finger gently, just barely, graze the side of my a*s. And I can't help the huge smile that breaks out on my face as I push through the door. It's not much, but from Kent?

He might as well have given me a high-five.

As soon as I come through the door, though, I almost bang straight into Jerome.

"Whoa, speedy," he says, catching me by the shoulders before I can knock him down.

understand."

le smile before turning to Daniel and ignoring her completely.

run it down the back of his head, taking a moment to trail my fingers through the ends of his hair. around my waist and pulling me close. "Not if it's a choice and pleading incompetence will keep you here."

ose against him while I look down at him with adoration. "Sorry, babe," I say. "You know I have work to do. I'd rather be with you, though."

ower my face to his, kissing my best friend as if...

play along. I turn my head to Alessi and Natalia then, pleased to see Alessi grinning proudly at his nephew and Natalia glaring coldly at me, her eyes

s folded over his chest, watching my every move with a little smirk on his face. And I'm damn lucky that the Italians have their heads turned because I and moves into the kitchen as if he's got better stuff to deal with.

I stumble a little but then gasp as I look down at my crushed croissant, which collided with his chest. "Why are you always outside doors I'm coming out of?" I ask, frowning up at him. "Do you just lay in wait outside of every door I go through?" "How could I do that, Fay," Jerome asks, looking at me slyly, "when sometimes you go into one room and, inexplicably, come out of another?"

My mouth pops open a little but then I snap it shut, wondering what the hell he knows. Has he guessed something about secret passages? Or is he just baiting me into saying something?

Jerome lets me dangle for a moment and then lets my shoulders go, trusting me to stand on my own. "Lucky timing, then, I guess. Where you off to in such a hurry?"

"Gotta go see an important man," I reply, giving a little shrug.

"Which one?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Nooooooo idea," I say. Then, I cock my head. "Want to come with?"

Jerome hesitates, looking towards the kitchen, but I grab him by the arm. "Oh, come on," I say, pushing him towards the garage. I know Jerome has access to the car keys and I want to get out of here before Natalia can come call my bluff. "Kent will let me take you." Jerome laughs at this, but he lets me push him. "What am some Ken doll you guys trade around for the day?"

"Precisely," I confirm as we pass into the garage and he snags the keys to the Lexus from the key cage. I grin at him over the top of the car as we open our doors. "Want to buy me breakfast, Ken? This..." I hold up my sad little semi-crushed croissant, "isn't cutting it anymore."

"You got it, Barbie," Jerome quips, winking at me and climbing into the car. I grin and do the same, closing my door behind me.

Once Jerome and I finish our breakfast - he takes me to a place downtown where they serve a full English breakfast, something we'll never get in an Italian house - and we get back in the car totally stuffed, I know precisely where I want to go.

I'm not looking forward to it, but I know what I have to do. Jerome blanches a little bit when I direct him to our next stop, but he doesn't ask questions. Instead, he just drives me up to the front of the house and gets out to lean against the car and watch my back as I climb up the steps and ring the bell.

About half a minute later, the door opens.

"Hey, Tristin," I say, giving my step-mother a little smile in response to her deep and hateful glare. "Is my dad home?"

"He is not," she snaps, hoisting baby Estrella higher on her hip. The baby, thankfully, greets me more graciously with a giggle and a little flap of her hand in my direction. I can't help but smile back at her.

"Um," I say, looking back at Tristin. "Can I come in and wait for him, then?"

Tristin rolls her eyes at me and begins to close the door.

"Tristin!" I call, putting out a hand to stop her. "Please, I'm sorry - I know whenever I come over it always causes trouble -"

"Causes chaos, you mean," she replies, still trying to shut the door - but she's only got one free hand, and I've got two.

"Okay, I buy that," I say, holding my weight against the door until she gives up, glaring at me. "Please," I say, my eyes wide and, I hope, showing my earnest desire to make piece. "Just... let me come in for a little bit. I'll help! I'll watch the baby! I'll...whatever you want! Just let me wait for my dad for a little bit."

Tristin clenches her teeth but then steps away from the door. "Fine," she snaps. "You can watch Romulus for a bit, keep him out of the electrician's hair. But one hint of drama," she says, pointing a finger up in my face, "and you're out. All right?"

"You got it," I reply, holding up my hands innocently. Tristin nods once and steps out of my path so that I can enter. I shoot Jerome a thumbs-up over my shoulder and head into the house, where I see Romulus peeking over the stairs.

"Hi!" he says, popping up and grinning widely at me when he sees me being welcomed into the house. Or at least, tolerated.

"Hi," I reply brightly, going over to him. "So," I continue, peering up at him, "word has it that I'm seeing a very important man today," I inform him. "I guess that's you."

"Makes sense," Romulus says honestly, giving me a little shrug. "I'm very important."

I laugh and hold out my hand to him, beckoning him to come play.

 

Chapter 117

A day alone with my very important gentleman Romulus ends up being way more fun than I thought it would. We ended up going out front to fetch Jerome because I figured that we were going to be here for a while and didn't want him to be left alone out in the heat. This ended up being an amazing choice because Romulus took to Jerome immediately, crawling all over him like a jungle gym.

We're all laying out in the back yard staring up at the clouds about three hours into my visit, Romulus catching his breath after another long bout of his new favorite game, Pirates, where he and Jerome basically just chase each other around with sticks, when a dark shadow falls over me.

"Oh," I say, surprised when I realize that it's not a sudden rain cloud but, instead, my father smiling down at us. "Oh, hello!" I say, laughing a little and working to sit up. "I didn't hear you come outside."

"I was quiet," my father says, smiling at me as Romulus shrieks and throws himself at our dad, clearly thrilled to see him. "It did my heart good to see you with your brother. I have....wanted to see that for a long time."

I bite my lip a little at the sincerity in my father's voice and then smile at him, this man who is a stranger but who so clearly does not want to be.

"Dad," I say, standing up and reaching out my hand towards him. Quite suddenly I feel a little pang of guilt at calling this man dad, when another man raised me - and then another pang, when I realize that I haven't reached out to my actual dad in a while. I make a mental note to fix that as soon as I can.

"Fay," my father replies, taking my hand.

"Romulus!" Romulus shouts, throwing two hands up in the air in victory. We all laugh and then Jerome takes one of the little boy's hands.

"Come on, kid," he says, "let's go get a popsicle." Then, quite politely, Jerome looks to my father with a raised eyebrow, asking if that's all right. My father nods graciously, and Jerome leads Romulus away.

"Dad," I say, starting again, squeezing his hand a little. "I want to be...better than we are. I'm sorry - I know it's not...perfect, between us. Far from it."

"Fay," he says, shaking his head and coming closer to pat me on the cheek with his other hand. "I owe you an apology as well. I was horrible to you the last time you came to visit. Come, we'll start again."

He snaps his fingers to a servant standing at the back door who I hadn't noticed - who certainly hadn't been there all day - and then leads me over to a little wooden bench in the corner of his back garden, prettily shaded and surrounded by flowers. As we sit, the servant comes back out with a little try with two long-stemmed glasses filled with bubbling, rich orange liquid.

"What's this?" I ask, taking one off the tray and smiling at the servant.

My father tsks as he takes his own drink, waving a hand for the servant to leave. "A sin," he says, smiling and shaking his head at me. "For my daughter to not know Aperol when she sees it."

Curious, I take a sip from the little straw poking out of the glass and my eyes go wide when I realize how good it is. "Oh my god," I say, looking down at it. "Oh wow, it's delicious."

"Of course it is," my father laughs, patting me on the knee. "Aperol, prosecco, and tonic. A shame your Daniel has not taught you this."

I shrug and smile at him. "Daniel and Kent drink more whiskey than anything else," I say.

"Irishman's drink," my father says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "A betrayal but...forgivable. At least they, too, are Catholic."

I grin, not really getting why that matters, but...whatever. I put the phrase in my back pocket to use on Natalia later.

"What brings you to me, daughter," my father says, turning towards me. "I know it is not merely a visit to see your brother, though I'd be happy if it was. The timing is...too rich."

I shrug, not admitting or denying anything.

"Did your Daniel send you?" my father pushes. "To convince me, again, that your engagement to him is real? I am not fooled, Fay," he continues, his voice taking on a bit of a warning. "I can see that you...have more for Ivan, in your heart, than you do for the boy to whom you are engaged."

I blush a little, embarrassed that it's been that obvious.

"You don't get it, dad," I say, tracing a finger along the wood of the bench before I look up into his eyes. "Daniel and I...we're dedicated to one another."

"Dedication makes a better match than passion," he says, considering.

I blush again to think of my father thinking of me and Ivan in terms of passion.

"But Fay," he continues, "I have...other reasons for wishing you'd turn your head in a new direction. Not to Ivan, if that's not what you want. But...elsewhere." "What?" I ask, curious. "What reasons?"

"Fay," he says, shaking his head. "We have...not been to each other, what a father and a daughter should be. That was your mother's choice - not mine. I would have kept you, if she had let me, raised you to the life you should have had. I hope that you would let me give it to you now. Let me help you make the choice that will make you happy."

"But..." I slow down here, wanting to get this right, wanting to...

I take a deep breath, thinking about what Kent would do in this situation, and realize that he probably wouldn't say much at all and, instead, let the other person weave enough rope to hang themselves with. "Dad," I say, reaching out and taking his hand, doing my best to make my face look worried. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I wish for you to be happy," my father says, clamming up a little and leaning back against the arm of the bench, studying me.

I decide to push it and press my eyes shut, making myself think as many horrible things as I can in just a few seconds - imagining everyone I love dying, my horse getting hurt, Daniel in a terrible car crash -

And when I look up at my father again, my face is red with emotion, my eyes a just a little wet. "Please," I say, shaking my head. "I don't know what to do."

Something breaks in my father - I watch it happen. And he leans forward towards me, true concern in his eyes. "Fay," he whispers, tsking again and reaching for me, pulling me close. "I would keep you safe, my darling," he murmurs against my hair. "Does that mean," I sniff, allowing myself to get worked up, to actually worry now. "That...that you don't think Daniel..."

"No, Fay," he says, "I don't think your Daniel can protect you, no matter your fondness for him."

"Ivan said..." I continue, hesitating. "That he could? And I...I do like him..."

"He can," my father says, "with my help, he can."

"But Natalia..." I say, mentally crossing my fingers and hoping that I'm not pushing it too far. "She said..."

"What did that bitch say," my father snaps, and I can almost feel the sneer on his face.

I push away from him then, pretending that he scared me a little, but wanting to see his face. "Nothing - I'm sorry -"

"No," he says, his tempering rising a little as he grabs my arm. I let my eyes go wide and look at his hand, taking a sharp breath in.

"I'm sorry, Fay," he says, releasing me and shaking his head. "My temper - I am not good -"

"She said that you were...the weakest..." I breathe. "Can you protect me?"

And my father -

I'm shocked, but he laughs. Laughs.

"Your Lippert's Natalia," he says, shaking his head, "she has no idea what she means. She and Alessi have been to tied to the Lippert family for too long. They only know...one side."

I don't know what to do with myself then - and I certainly don't want him to see my face- so I tuck myself back against him as if I need comfort - and honestly, maybe I do.

"You don't have to make any big decisions today, Fay," my father says, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my head. "There is plenty of time. We will make you a good match."

And my father doesn't say anything else on the subject, but his point is quite clear: his idea of a good match?

It's not Daniel. Not because he doesn't have the right lineage, but because my father, like Ivan, is convinced that the Lippert family are the ones going down.

 

Chapter 118

Jerome and I stay at my father's house for the next few hours, until dark begins to encroach on the day, mostly because...well, I can't think of a graceful early exit that doesn't make it look like I'm not scurrying off to Kent to tell him everything my father just said. Which, quite frankly, is exactly what I want to do.

Instead we stay for the next few hours, drinking Aperol spritzes with my father and my step-mom, chatting lightly and watching as the Romulus runs around the back yard. The sun has already started to fall when Jerome looks worriedly at his phone and taps its face, asking me, silently, if I've checked mine at all today.

I shrug, silently letting him know I didn't bring a phone. Jerome's eyes go wide and he exhales a huge, exasperated breath, so I make my excuses and get us out of my father's house as quickly as I can.

"Are you serious, Fay?" Jerome hisses, taking me by the elbow as we head down the front steps.

"You sure as hell sound like a Lippert now," I whisper, giving him a little glare. "Why? What'd I miss?"

"Apparently Daniel's been trying to reach you for hours," he whispers. "You were supposed to be home, and dressed for dinner, 45 minutes ago!"

"Well nobody told me!" I protest as we arrive at the car, quickly climbing in.

"Yes, Fay, they did!" Jerome retorts, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him as I fasten my seatbelt. "You just didn't bring the very tiny, very handy communication device they used to tell you!"

"But you're my communication device," I tease, pouting a little.

Jerome rolls his eyes at me, not buying my cute act, and peels out of the driveway, clearly eager to get us home as fast as he can because he knows that he'll get blamed because...well. He's sleeping with one of the bosses, but not the right one. We're on the road for a few quiet minutes before Jerome surprises me.

"What the hell are you getting into, Fay," he asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Huh?" is my brilliant reply.

"Why did you come here?" he asks, turning to me. "Are you like...getting information?"

"I'm seeing my dad," I murmur, turning to look away out the window.

"Fay," Jerome sighs, shaking his head.

"What?" I ask, spinning back to him, a little pissed now at being countered. Jerome, at least, I thought was on my side.

"Why can't you just chill out?" he asks, gripping the steering wheel tight in his hands. "Just... be a mafia bride? Dress in pretty things, go ride your horse, buy...literally anything you want?"

"Do you really think I'd be happy with that?" I ask, my voice soft and a little incredulous.

"Kid," Jerome says, turning to me and staring at me like I'm an idiot. "Who wouldn't be happy with that?"

"Do you want to be a mafia princess?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, no," he replies, frowning and staring out the windshield. "But I'm a -"

"A boy?" I ask, interrupting, a little miffed at his implications. "Is that the difference?"

Jerome glares at me a little, but I can see in expression that I've caught him a bit. "Not born to it," he corrects.

"Jerome," I say, sighing and slumping down in my seat. "I'm...I'm playing this day by day, as you are. We're both mixed up with someone it's impossible to be with. Can we just be allies on this? Support each other? I mean, neither of us has chosen the easy path. Can you please stop criticizing me for making the exact choices you have?"

My friend glances at me, a little chagrined, and I know he knows I'm right.

Jerome is silent for a moment before he speaks again. "It's not good, Fay," he whispers. "I know you're figuring it out too."

"What?" I ask, sitting up, suddenly alert.

"Alden," he says, glancing over at me. "He asked me, today, if I would be...interested in joining his ranks," he confesses. "He said he asked because you're clearly so fond of me and he wants you to have someone you like when you come back into his fold." "What?" I gasp, shocked. I mean, I don't know what the rules are, but I'm pretty damn sure it's not okay to go poaching other boss's men.

Jerome just shakes his head, looking forward again, his whole body tense. "He wouldn't be doing that if he didn't know he could get away with it," he murmurs. "And...soon."

"Soon?" I ask. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Jerome continues, "that he doesn't really seem to care if I go back and spill that to Kent. He's not being careful anymore, which implies that even if Kent wants to retaliate for that kind of insult..."

"... my dad doesn't think he'll have time to do anything big enough to hurt him."

Jerome nods quietly and my head turns towards the windows as I start to notice, out of the corner of my eye, that we're drawing close to home. As we pull closer I notice that the limousine is waiting in the drive out front, which I know only means trouble. I swallow deeply, wondering what the hell I'm in for.

"Are you going to tell Kent?" I ask in a whisper, my whole body now as tense as Jerome's.

"Nope," he says, shaking his head as we pull through the automatic gate. "You are."

"What!?" I gasp, appalled at the idea.

"Tell him when you're naked," Jerome suggests, sending me the start of a smirk that I can tell he can't quite bring to its full strength. "Kent's much less likely to smack you for getting close enough for Alden to make the offer."

"Don't count on it," I murmur, my hand unconsciously moving to my ass as my worried mind spins through everything we learned today.

I only realize what I'm doing with my hand when Jerome bursts out laughing and then I blush and smack him, telling him to shut the hell up, though I can't help laughing myself.

The result, of course, is that by the time we both spill into the house we're laughing hysterically at our new inside joke. But we both fall silent as we turn the corner towards the main entry of the house, where Kent, Daniel, Natalia, and Alessi are all dressed in formal wear, glaring at us.

Well, Daniel isn't glaring. He smiles at both of us and gives a little wave.

But Natalia takes the lead in scolding.

"Fay," she starts, crossing her arms and shaking her head at me. "Can you not learn to read a clock? Honestly. We are so late."

Usually I'd blush and hurry and apologize to the end of me. But something about it - about the smug way Natalia shakes her head at me, like she expected no less and actually thinks I might not be able to read a clock - makes me go cold.

"So sorry," I say cooly, finding a coy smile on my face as I wrap my arm around Jerome's, not letting him get away. "We simply...lost track of time. Jerome," I say, looking up at him. "Will you help me upstairs? I need to get ready."

Jerome, anxious, steps forward eagerly but I don't let him go too fast, holding him back a little. Then, I begin to walk towards the family, and then past them, and up the stairs, at an almost too-leisurely pace. Kent's face, from what I can see, is totally blank. But Daniel grins, enjoying it.

"We are waiting!" Natalia calls after me, angry at my sluggish steps.

"Oh, go on without me!" I say, waving a hand after her. "I'll catch up! Jerome can drive me!"

"Why do you keep wrapping me up in this shit," Jerome hisses between his teeth as we get to the top of the stairs and he's relatively sure the Italians can't hear us.

"Because," I reply, smiling up at him. "You look so good all tied up in the Lippert drama. Besides, you secretly like it."

And then, as soon as we're out of sight of those standing below, I dash into my room, pulling him with me so that I have someone to help me get ready in record time.

 

Chapter 119

Jerome is actually a big help, prepping the gorgeous green dress and shoes that were left on my bed for me, and then picking out some jewelry to match, as I apply my makeup as fast as I can and quickly unbraid my hair and pin it on top of my head. We manage, somehow, to get me fully ready in under five minutes.

"Wow," I say, as I push an earing through my lobe and simultaneously slide my foot into the shoe that Jerome, kneeling on the floor, holds steady for me. "If you ever decide to quit being a low-level mafia lackey, you certainly have a career as like, one of those people who helps people get changed fast between scenes in a play -"

"I know," Jerome says, smirking at me as he stands up. "I grew up helping the ladies at my mom's strip club make quick changes between their acts." "Really?" I ask, my eyes going wide.

"A story for another time, Fay!" Jerome laughs, putting a warm hand on my shoulder and pushing me gently towards the door, grabbing my little purse off the bed and shoving it into my hand. As I move towards the top of the stairs though, Jerome makes to disappear in the other direction down the hall.

"Where -" I start to ask, but he just shakes his head at me.

"Fay," he whispers. "You just brought me into your bedroom. And got changed. And only one of those people down there knows that I'm not into this -" he says, waving a hand up and down in my direction to encapsulate my whole being. "So, yeah. I'm disappearing." I go a little pale as I realize what he's saying and I grimace, realizing that I have to come up with some clever explanations later. But I take a deep breath, steeling myself and trying to be as cool and nonchalant as I can as I start down the steps. "So sorry," I call to the group still waiting below. "Shall we go? I would hate to miss the reservation."

Daniel grins at me again, laughing a little, while Natalia glares. When I reach the bottom of the stairs my fiancé offers me his arm and then, as a group, we set off.

Honestly, I don't know why everyone was all upset. It's not as if the restaurant gave away our table. Instead, the hostess beams at us and sweeps us through the restaurant to a semi-private balcony up a small flight of stairs that overlooks the rest of the restaurant. It's the perfect spot - close enough to participate in the chic, busy ambiance of the place but separate enough from it to not be overheard in private conversation.

Our table is small and round, intimately sized for the five of us so that when Daniel seats himself next to me I find that our knees touch under the table. We're all pressed close, family-style, so that we could whisper across the table if we wanted and all still be included in the conversation.

As we sit I wonder, for the first time actually, what the hell we're all doing here at this fancy dinner dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos. A little knot of anxiety forms in the pit of me as I look around at Daniel on my left, Kent pressed close on my right, and then Natalia, and then Alessi in the final seat between Daniel and Natalia.

Who called this dinner? And what do they have planned?

Unfortunately, no one fills me in, and so I merely go along with it, letting everyone else steer the conversation and listening carefully, hoping to figure it out as we go.

The food, predictably, is delicious. I figure out quickly that this is a French restaurant that hosts one seating a night, suggesting that we'll be having the kind of long, wine-soaked, sumptuous dinner that I'd usually be thrilled to experience. As our first course is served, I'm interested to see that Natalia steers the conversation towards memories.

"Kent," she says, turning her beautiful face towards him as she spreads pate de foie gras on a piece of baguette, "do you remember that summer that you, and I, and Lenai skipped church and took the train to France, and didn't tell anyone, and were away for days? God, we were such children then - what were we, sixteen?"

I watch Kent carefully as he smiles at the memory and then adds pieces of his own, making Natalia laugh- perhaps a little too hard - when he reminds her that that was the first time he ever had fois gras, and how much he hated it. The conversation passes mostly like this, with Natalia and Kent and Alessi trading fond memories of their youth, sometimes slipping into Italian to better express their meaning.

And as I look around at the table, watching Daniel laugh along with them in the moments when I cannot understand the words, and catching Natalia watching me when she thinks I'm not looking, I realize that...this dinner could very well be about me. About making it quite clear to me precisely how much I do not fit in this family - the little American girl who has never been to Italy or France, who cannot understand Italian, or cook, and who certainly has never had fois gras.

And who does not like it when I try it tonight.

As I push my little plate away, a single bite taken out of my pate-and-baguette, I lean over to Daniel to whisper in his ear.

"Daniel, who organized this dinner?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"Natalia," he replies, leaning close to tell me in my ear. "A surprise. The chef is an old friend, apparently - she organized it this afternoon."

Nodding, smiling at him to let him know that all is well, I turn back to the table better prepared to go to war. Because I'm figuring out that that's precisely what this is.

War.

But Natalia surprises me by ignoring me further, chatting lightly mostly to Kent throughout the next two courses, keeping up such a steady stream of conversation at the small table that the rest of us don't really have a chance to change the subject. I do note, as well, that our glasses are liberally resupplied with wine, and that Natalia never finishes hers (so I don't either), though each of the men do.

I watch Natalia quite, quite closely as she pretends to ignore me, so I notice the precise moment when she makes her move. It happens just after the meat course is served - a gorgeous roasted game hen for each of us - and each of us are provided with our fifth glass of wine, which I'm curious to see Kent lift to his lips, having fallen under her nostalgic spell more than I thought him capable of doing.

"Kent," Natalia says, a fond smile on her face, her eyes sparkling curiously, "when do you think it is that you will take a second wife? It is long past time, no?"

Kent goes still for a second, just a second, and I feel Daniel perk up next to me curiously. But I watch, fascinated, realizing that Natalia has bided her time so precisely that neither Kent nor Daniel bristle at her, which I know they usually would at anyone who dared ask Kent about his romantic intentions at any other time.

Masterful, I think, leaning my elbow on the table and resting my chin on my hand, flicking my eyes to Kent, curious to see what will happen next.

"Don't be ridiculous, Natalia," he laughs - laughs, I think, well done Natalia. "That can't possibly be on my mind now. I'm too busy."

"Ohhh," she replies, and I feel my spine stiffen a little as I watch Natalia lean closer to Kent, reaching her hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "But that is precisely what a wife can do for you, no? Take some of the pressure off so that you can concentrate on what really matters?"

And I'm glad I have my chin in my hand at that moment because, honestly, if it weren't, I'd be at deep risk of my mouth falling open. Because I realize quite suddenly that I was wrong: this dinner isn't about Natalia making a move against me. She's making a move for Kent.

Chapter 120

As subtly as I can, I sit back in my chair, lifting my glass wine to my lips and pretending to take another sip as I slip my gaze towards Daniel, who is already looking at me with his eyebrows slightly raised. I flick my eyes away quickly, not wanting to give anything away, but grateful that he, too, sees what is happening.

Slowly, Kent turns his head towards Natalia. "I seem to be doing fine as a bachelor, no?" he asks, and I'm surprised to hear a little bit of an Italian accent come into his voice, perhaps harkening back to his younger years when he spoke Italian with her every day. Those days when he fell in love with her, and told her about it, and asked her to marry him, all in that language.

But I smirk a little, inwardly, to think that they're all speaking in English at this dinner for my sake. I still have a little power here, even if she's trying to take it all.

"You are doing all right," Natalia replies, leaning even closer to Kent and letting her eyelids drift down so that she's looking up at him through her lashes. "But with the right woman, Kent? You could do so much better. Be so much more relaxed."

And I feel the inner urge to bare my teeth at her as Natalia slips a hand onto Kent's shoulder and then lets it drift, ever so casually, down his back - the fond kind of gesture that could be friendly but which we all know in this moment is so, so much more. Kent, going a little stiff at her touch, turns his attention back to his meal and picks up his knife and fork as he takes a deep breath. His voice is different now - harsh, controlled, as he begins to cut at his chicken. "I've decided never again to marry, Natalia," he informs her, and then looks around the table at Daniel and Alessi, as if remembering suddenly that they're here. But I'm very, very interested to see that he does not, in fact, look at me.

Natalia shifts herself subtly, pulling her hand away from him and reaching for her own fork. "Ah, Kent," she breathes, a subtle smile on her lips. "You will change your mind. You just need to...pick the right woman."

Kent doesn't say anything, just continues to cut his chicken and lift bites of it to his mouth as the table goes silent. Daniel chimes in after a moment, breaking the awkwardness in his own particularly skillful way that makes the change of conversation seem natural as he asks Alessi about some of his own memories of childhood.

I don't say anything at all, instead sitting in my seat, stewing silently at Natalia's gall. Clearly, clearly, she thinks that she is the "right woman." And god damn it, as I stare down into my glass of wine, my stomach twists with jealousy and hate for her. And I act...maybe a little impulsively. Maybe a little stupidly.

But I don't let myself think about it too much as I drain my glass of wine and then, careful to be discreet, I slide my hand off of my lap and move it across the few inches that separate me from Kent. Hardly daring to breathe lest it attract someone's attention, I slip my hand across the fabric of Kent's pants and dip between his legs so that my fingers come to press against the soft flesh of his inner thigh.

Kent immediately goes tense as I squeeze his leg, letting him know, not so subtly, that he's mine, not hers.

And that he'd damn well better remember it.

Kent is only still for a moment, though, before taking a deep breath and continuing to eat as if nothing has changed. I watch the others around the table and am grateful to see Natalia laughing with Alessi and Daniel, concentrating on something in his story. Satisfied that no one has noticed, I give Kent a final squeeze and then, letting my nails rake a bit against the fabric of his pants, I slowly move my hand back to my own lap.

As I do, Kent turns to glare at me, for just a moment, his expression clearly communicating you're going to pay for that.

I just blink up at him for a second, my fierce eyes saying I'd better.

And then I turn back to Daniel, smiling at him and joining in on the laughter even though I have no idea what was just said.

When desert comes, we're all stuffed. Too stuffed, really, to do justice to the incredible apple tart that's placed in front of us and served family-style with cinnamon ice cream. We each take a few bites but concentrate, instead, on the cups of espresso that are served with the final part of the meal, each of us needing a little perk after so much wine and food.

"That was delicious," Daniel says, leaning back against his chair and groaning, holding his little espresso cup in his large palm.

"It was," I agree, smiling at him and then turning my smile politely to Natalia, who hasn't said a word to me all night. "Thank you so much for organizing this," I say. "It really was special."

"Yes," she says, sighing contentedly and holding my gaze. "I thought you deserved a final treat."

I go still and feel Daniel and Kent sit up on either side of me, turning their attention to her. Neither say anything though, leaving it to me.

"Pardon?" I ask, cocking my head to the side just an inch and forcing myself to raise my espresso to my mouth, taking a little sip and not letting my hand shudder, not a bit.

Apparently, I think to myself, my first instinct was right. This dinner is about me. Natalia's just trying to kill two birds with one stone.

"Fay," Natalia says, glancing at Alessi for support, and I'm shocked to see him sigh as if in resignation. "It has been so wonderful to have a chance to get to know you, my dear. But unfortunately, we as a family have some bad news."

"What are you talking about, Natalia?" Kent says, doing his best to keep his voice even but failing at keeping the anger and anxiety out of it. I glance at him and see the surprise and suspicion on his face, gratified to see that he, at least, was not in on this. "Alessi and I have been consulting," she says, looking at Alessi again, "with each other, as with the family in Italy." She turns back to Kent then, speaking only to him, as if this is not about me at all. "We have come to a decision," she says, definitely, "that it is time for the Lippert family to end their association with the Aldens."

Alessi breaks in here, his voice just as sorry as Natalia's. "Kent, Fay, Daniel - we are sorry to say it, but we have assessed the atmosphere here, and Alden is the weak link. If you wish to continue receiving the support of the Bianci family," he continues, looking to Kent now, "then we would oblige you to..."

He sighs here, glancing at me a little guilty, as if he's finally realizing that he's talking about my father, not some stranger, "we will require that you take Alden out," he finishes.

My mouth really does drop open now as I realize that Alessi - Daniel's uncle, this man who has really been kind to me - has just casually ordered that my father be murdered.

Continuing, Alessi breathing out sharply through his nose. "We believe that the best move for the Lippert family is to take over Alden's industries for yourself. We believe that if you do so, you will re-establish yourself as the power in the Americas, and that the other families will fall in line beneath us."

"Beneath you, you mean," Kent growls, and I look up at him, wide-eyed, to see rage on his face.

"Beneath. Us." Natalia says, quite clear about the inflection. And then she reaches out to place her hand on Kent's, subtly implying, I think, that she is part of the deal.

And I snap my mouth shut as I realize precisely what just happened.

I'm out.

Natalia's in.

And this dinner is my final farewell.