Ch. 131..135: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 131-135

Chapter 131

"Hey, Fay," Ivan says, smirking at me as I cross the parking lot to him. His eyes sweep over me, as they "Thanks," I say breezily, stepping close to him and unable to keep myself from grinning up into his fac "Ahhh," he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into that smile that makes my stomach twist as he I laugh, shaking my head at him. "So that's what it was?" I ask, a little miffed but pleased to hear that "Well," Ivan says, turning his head a little to the side, "if you didn't text me afterwards, it was me holdi Ivan lets his sentence trail off there, smiling down at me, shifting his weight to move even closer. And "Ahem," Jerome says, not even pretending to clear his throat and just saying the word. I jump a little b "Oh, hey Jerome," Ivan says after a second, leaning away from me and giving Jerome a charming smile. I blink in surprise and see Jerome frown for a second. Honestly, I don't think either of us thought that Jerome opens his mouth to answer, but I interrupt, grabbing Ivan's hand.

"Come on," I say, tugging him inward towards the stalls. "Come meet Heathcliff."

Ivan grins at me and lets himself be lead along. When we arrive at Heathcliff's stall I drop Ivan's hand aisle.

"Come inside," I say, gesturing for him to come forward.

"I'm good," Ivan says, grinning at me and holding up a hand. "I am...close enough out here."

"What?" I breathe, and then I laugh as I figure out that Ivan is afraid. My eyes flick to Jerome, who stop "Um," Ivan says, taking a step back and watching the dark stall warily. "Do you want to shut that door "Ivan!" I laugh, grabbing his hand. "It's fine! He's a big softie -"

Ivan shifts his weight back into his heels and grimaces, actively resisting my pull. "Seriously, Fay," he s "Oh my god," I laugh, rolling my eyes and tugging harder until Ivan gives in and stumbles forward a few And then I drop his hand as I go in to pet Heathcliff, who nickers and nudges me eagerly with his nose stand at his side, idly stroking his soft neck. "Seriously, he's very gentle."

y do, as they didn't yesterday. "I like your boots."

glad you could make time for me today, Ivan." I murmur. "Considering you were so busy last night." down into my face. "But it worked, didn't it?"

sn't just disinterested. "A tactic to get me to reach out to you?"

to my pride and moving on with a very pretty brunette." His smile deepens as I glare at him, unable to hide my jealousy. "But," he continues, "since it did..." tly, I forget to breathe as I look up into his eyes -

van stays very cool, keeping his body close to mine as we both turn our heads to look at Jerome standing there, his arms folded, shaking his head at us. are you, man?" new who Jerome was.

ock the bolt, but when I turn to invite Ivan to come in I am surprised to see him standing right where I left him - about five feet away, in the middle of the

t ten feet behind Ivan and he realizes it at the same moment that I do. "Oh my god," I laugh, coming out of the stall towards Ivan. "You -"

pretense dropping. "I am amazing out there - I can see him, he's so pretty! But I am...good, admiring from afar."

s. "Big mafia boss," I murmur, looking at him with a little vicious glee as I lead him to the entrance to the stall door, "afraid of the world's nicest horse." ing I've got sugar cubes in my pocket. "Come in," I say to Ivan, rubbing a hand up and down Heathcliff's nose to give him a little scratch and then moving to

Ivan sighs and then warily steps into the stall, looking at Heathcliff like he's a bomb about to explode. "He's just a very large animal, Fay," Ivan mutters, crossing his arms and looking intensely uncomfortable. "The biggest animals I'm used to are...cats. Maybe squirrels. Chipmunks."

"Brunettes," I murmur, my eyes a little cruel as I smirk at him. His eyes flash from the horse to me, and I see a smirk come back on his face a little bit.

"Sure," he says, quiet. "I can handle a Brunette or two. Though I prefer a redhead."

I can't help the little smile that curls my lips. "Heathcliff's a redhead," I say, nodding to my horse. "And you've only been rude to him, when the whole point of today was for you to come and meet him." "Really, Fay," Ivan says, his voice dry. "That was the whole point of today? To meet Heathcliff?"

"Sure," I answer, taking a step closer to him, holding his gaze. And then there's just a long moment of silence where we just...look at each other.

And the tension between us builds and builds.

My smile grows a little when Ivan's the one to break it.

"Fay," he breathes, taking a step closer to me, his mouth falling open with my name on his lips.

But before he can do anything else, I hold up a finger between us, making him go still.

"Jerome?" I call, and there's a silent pause before I hear Jerome sigh and see him step into sight right outside the stall door. He was lurking there, I knew. Spying. Making sure I behaved.

"What, Fay," Jerome answers, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at me from the door to the stall.

"Can you go get my phone?" I ask, blinking innocently at him. "I think I left it in the car."

"Fay," he growls, shaking his head at me.

"Go get my phone, Jerome," I snap, returning his glare. And then he sighs and, muttering something about trouble, stalks away from the stall and back towards the parking lot.

I'm smiling then as I turn back to Ivan, who instantly closes the distance between us. "Look at you, Fay," he says, standing over me now, so close that I can feel the warmth his body gives off. "Coming into your own little mafia wife status, aren't you?" "It looks good on me, doesn't it?" I whisper, earning a little laugh, which makes me smile.

And then I see Ivan's hands twitch, as if he wants to put them on me, but he doesn't, and I bite my lip, wondering if I want him to.

"Why am I here, Fay?" he asks, his voice softer than I usually hear it.

"Why do you want to be here, Ivan?" I whisper back.

"Stop fucking with me, Fay," he snaps, his voice still low as he looks back towards the door, back towards where Jerome disappeared. "Do you want me to take you out of here? Get you away from them?"

"No," I answer softly, instantly, blinking as I realize that that's why Ivan thought I called him here today. And it's the truth - I do not want to be taken away. I just - I just wanted to talk -

"Fuck," Ivan snaps, turning away from me, frustrated. "F**k, Fay! Why are you being so stupid?!"

"I'm being stupid?!" I gasp, honestly a little hurt by it.

"Yes!" he hisses, coming back and grabbing me by the shoulders, leaning down to look directly in my eyes. "Yes, Fay, you're being a real god damn idiot by not getting out of there now! This is going down! How many times do I have to tell you - you could be killed!" "What?" I gasp, shocked by it. I mean - I knew he told me to get out of the house - but he never said killed -

"Are you hearing me now?!" he asks, almost shouting now as he shakes me again. "Why are you even staying there? What's holding you back?"

"Daniel," I say, the rehearsed answer instantly on my lips. "He's my fiancé. I - I love him!" But my words fade away at the end, because I can see in Ivan's face that the lie isn't working.

Ivan just stares at me for a moment in disbelief and then he drops his hands from my shoulders, standing up straight to tower over me again, shaking his head from side to side. "Seriously, Fay?" he says, his words rich with irony. "You seriously want me to believe that it's Daniel, you're in love with? Daniel keeping you in that house?"

And then, as I stare up at Ivan, my mouth falls open because...

I don't know how I know it, or he knows it, but Ivan knows.

He knows that it's not my affection for Daniel keeping me in the house.

And he knows that it's Kent.

Chapter 132

"How," I whisper, frozen, staring up at Ivan. "How did you know..."

And then his face falls as I basically admit it - this thing that he's thinking, that he's figured out. And I can see that I've really, really hurt him. "F**k you, Fay," Ivan whispers, his voice harsh with hate. "F**k you for picking that old, dead man over

anyway."

's f****d, Fay," he shakes his head now as he stares at me like his heart is broken. "And I told you that, and offered you everything. And you picked him

And I reach out for him, desperately unhappy at his words - and to see him so hurt - and at first he swats my hand away but then - Then Ivan grabs me.

And he wraps one hand around my waist, and buries the other in my hair, and pulls me against him, and kisses me like a drowning man. Like I'm the gasp of air he'll ever breathe.

I'm completely surprised by it, and swept away, and confused -

But my body responds and I feel myself leaning into him as he wraps me closer against his chest, as he bends me backwards under the force of his emotions, kissing me like we've come to the end of a great thing. And then he lets me go, almost all at once.

Just drops me, his hands and his arms gone in an instant, so fast that I stumble back a few steps and Heathcliff shies a bit at my sudden movement. I put a hand out on the horse's shoulder to steady myself, looking for Ivan. But he's already at the door of the stall, glaring back at me like he hates me now.

"Get out of the house, Fay," he says, the words falling from his mouth like bricks. "Now. Immediately. Get out of the house this week, or..." he shakes his head and clenches his jaw suddenly, as if catching himself. But he hauls his gaze back up to mine for a brief second. "Or you'll be dead, Fay," he whispers. "With the rest of them."

And I'm still staring after him, my mouth hanging open in shock, even after he's gone.

A few minutes later Jerome comes back to the stall door, looking curiously over his shoulder. "He didn't look to happy -" he says, but his sentence is cut short when he sees my face. I haven't moved, not at all, from my place next to Heathcliff. "Fuck, Fay," Jerome says, hurrying in to take me by the shoulders, his eyes darting over my face. "Are you all right? You're white - seriously, it's a cliché, but you're as white as a sheet."

I suck a deep breath in then, looking up at Jerome, and then I nod shakily. Jerome doesn't believe me, though, and he wraps me in his arms, tucking my head in beneath his chin. He holds me for a long couple of moments, muttering kind and comforting things, stroking my hair softly as I come back to myself.

After a few minutes I pull away a bit, and he lets me.

"Seriously Fay," he says, his voice desperate and curious and tender. "What the hell did he say?"

But I'm not ready to tell him now.

Kent. Kent has to know first.

And fuck...I want Kent, right now. Want to be in his arms.

"Can you take me home, Jerome?" I ask in a whisper. "We have to go home. Right now."

I steady myself a little bit in the car, and Jerome helps, realizing that I'm seriously rattled. So he does his best to make me laugh, cracking jokes and holding my hand the whole way home.

I'm smiling at him, grateful, as we drive through the gate and head for the garages at the back of the house.

"You all right, Fay?" he asks quietly as we pull into the garage and he parks the car.

"Yeah," I say, and then I take a deep breath. "Thanks, Jerome," I say, giving his hand a squeeze as I move to undo my seatbelt. He's about to crack another joke in reply when I see him go still and then feel him rip his hand from mine. Confused, curious, I turn towards the windshield and see Kent standing there, glaring at both of us.

"Shit," I murmur, moving slowly and talking fast as I realize that Kent just saw Jerome holding my hand. "Can you please just tell him that you're sleeping with Daniel? So that he doesn't kill you?"

"It will be a race," Jerome mutters back, reaching for his door handle, "to see what makes him cut my head off faster: the sight of me holding your hand, or the news that I'm f*****g his son."

And I almost burst out laughing at that, but I glance at Kent again, and the laugh dies in my mouth. So I take another deep breath and step out of the car, turning to face him.

"You're home early, Fay," Kent says, stepping closer to me and glaring at Jerome, his expression clearly communicating I'll deal with you later as Jerome heads back into the house, shutting the door behind him.

"I needed to," I say, stepping close to Kent and then hesitating, glancing towards the door before stepping closer and wrapping my arms around his waist, needing a moment to feel him close to me. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

Kent hesitates a moment before wrapping his own arms around me, holding me tight to him and dropping a kiss to the top of my head before letting me go and stepping back. His expression is sorry, I can read his regret all over his face - if it were up to him, he'd hold me as long as I needed.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, looking at me warily, clearly torn between being worried for me and suspicious.

And I swallow the truth a little. I'm sorry because I broke the rules - I let Ivan touch me - but suddenly, I really, really don't want him to know. So I lie. "I'm sorry that I didn't get more information," I say, giving a sad little shrug.

Kent sees through me, I think, a little bit. But he lets me continue, I think because he can see that I'm truly rattled. "What did you get, Fay?" he asks, his posture shifting as he realizes that this is serious. And suddenly, as I look at him, there's none of my Kent left. Just the Mafia King.

"A timeline," I say quietly, straightening my shoulders and looking up into his face. "One week," I say, my voice steadier than I thought it would be. "Ivan told me I have one week to get out of this house. Or else I'll probably die. With the rest of you." And Kent stares at me for a moment before turning his head sharply and cursing a deep and steady stream of curses. And he doesn't look at me again as he turns and storms towards the house.

I don't say a word either as I hang my head and follow behind.

When we get into the house, my day is instantly made worse.

Because the first person we run into is Natalia.

"Ah, Fay," she says, giving me a false little smile as she peers around Kent to look at me as I come through the garage door. "Good to have you home. You can help me cook!"

"Cook?" I ask, blinking at her, still rattled by my morning and Kent's reaction to it.

"Yes!" she says, smiling at me and then up at Kent. I stare at her, confused, because there's absolutely no way that she hasn't picked up on either of our moods. And then I blink as I realize that of course she has - she's just playing her role as the perfect Mafia wife. The woman who lets her husband handle everything while she just blissfully maintains the home, trusting that he'll keep it under control.

And I scowl at her as I figure that out. Because this morning just further proves that I'm the opposite of a Mafia wife, sticking my nose so far in this business that I'm not sure I'll ever get it out. I see Natalia's smile twist a little as she sees me scowl.

"I'm making dinner," Natalia continues, looking up at Kent. "A proper Italian meal for my hungry Italian men!" Then she laughs and puts a too-familiar hand on Kent's chest. "That is," she says, pretending to hesitate a little and looking up at him with big doe eyes, "if that's all right with you?"

"Sure, Natalia," Kent says, loosening his tie and glancing back at me before striding off to his office. "Whatever you want."

I stare after Kent for a moment and then look back to Natalia, who is smirking at me like she's already won. "So?" she says, nodding towards the kitchen. "You will come help?"

"Sorry, Natalia," I say, instantly shifting into my good fiancé act. "I already told Daniel I'd help him study." And then I pout exaggeratedly at her and turn towards the stairs, my mind already beyond her and turning towards what the hell we're going to do. "You'll have to learn to cook, Fay!" she calls after me in a teasing, sing-song tone, "if you want to be a good wife!"

"Not if we're all dead, Natalia!" I mutter under my breath, mimicking her sing-song inflection as I haul myself up the stairs.

"Dinner at six!" she calls after me, louder this time. But I just roll my eyes and keep walking. Because honestly? We've got bigger problems than pasta right now.

 

Chapter 133

I head down for dinner just before six o'clock, having spent the majority of my day laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. But unlike the last time I did that, this day's staring was fueled by melancholy, not rage, which is...way worse. Because while anger makes me

seek solutions and want to tear the world to pieces, being sad and worried just feels...hopeless.

I'm still sighing as I push open the door to the kitchen, and it only gets worse when I realize that my cozy sweater and jeans were apparently not the correct attire for the evening. Natalia sweeps towards the patio carrying a basket of bread and wearing a flowing floral dress with not a speck of pasta sauce on it, despite cooking all afternoon. She sees me and immediately smirks, running her eyes over me like the unkempt ragamuffin that I probably seem to her.

I just take a deep breath and move immediately to the big fridge in the galley kitchen that I know holds the wine. As I get there, I see that Daniel has beaten me to it, closing the door and smiling at me when he sees me. "Hey," he says, holding up the chilled bottle of white wine in his hand. "You want a glass?"

"Can you pour me two?" I ask, quirking my head to the side and blinking at him innocently.

Daniel laughs at me and just shrugs, taking two wine glasses down from the rack and pouring one much fuller than the other. "Why so blue, Fay?" he asks, bumping his shoulder against mine. "You okay?"

"I don't know," I sigh, looking up at him and opening my mouth to tell him what Ivan said about the threat to his family, but before I can begin Natalia is back, her eyes instantly on the wine glass in my hand.

"Fay," she says, clicking her tongue at me as she bends down to open the oven. "Don't you know that those classes are only meant to be filled to the widest point? You will ruin the flavor."

"I poured it, Natalia," Daniel says, leaning back against the counter and giving her a friendly smile. But just shrug and drain the glass of half of its contents, until the wine indeed only reaches the widest point in the glass. "There," I say, giving her a wide and false smile. "Better?"

Natalia laughs a little at my joke but, as she moves past Daniel and I with a hot dish of lasagna she whispers a new dig. "There is nothing worse than a drunk woman, Fay," she informs me, giving me a sad little look. "You should watch your drinking. We worry for you."

And then she's gone and I bare my teeth and snap at the air after her, making Daniel laugh.

"Damn," he says, shaking his head after her. "She is going in for you tonight."

"Is a drunk woman worse than a murderess of obnoxious Italians?" I murmur, narrowing my eyes to a lower "Let's find out." And then I drain my glass. Daniel just obligingly gives me a refill as Kent comes around the corner, peering into the kitchen.

He frowns at us as I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and Daniel pours wine freely into my glass.

"Do I want to know?" Kent asks, looking between us.

"Nope," Daniel says, giving him a bright grin.

Kent just takes a deep breath, raising his eyebrows, and walks towards the patio.

"Come on," Daniel says, wrapping a supportive arm around my shoulders. "Let's go eat. You need to soak up that wine."

"No," I murmur, stubborn and not willing to give up my melancholy just yet. "Liquid dinner for Fay tonight. The drunker I am, the less time I have to spend conscious with her."

Daniel just grins and I wrap my arm around his waist, pleased to have my best friend by my side in these trying times.

When I step outside to the patio, though, any start to a good mood that Daniel raised in me begins to be wiped away by the sight of Natalia pressed close to Kent's side. I scowl a little when I see her laughing up into his face, raising a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear like she did last night at that horrible dinner.

But I stop dead in my tracks when I see Kent smiling down at Natalia in response, his hand on the small of her back, tucking her body in close next to his.

Daniel comes quickly back to my side when he realizes that I've stopped moving, clutching my shoulder more tightly and pulling me with him this time. "Keep moving, Fay," he murmurs to me, his voice serious and low enough so that only I can hear. "Your my fiancé tonight, remember?"

And then I scowl again, realizing that he's right. That I have no reason, on the surface, to mind that Kent is looking down at Natalia like the long-lost-love she might very well be.

So I turn my attention back to Daniel, taking another big swig out of my glass of wine as he leads me over to the table and seats me down with him.

"Gonna be a long dinner, isn't it," I murmur to my fiancé as we watch Natalia put a fond hand on Kent's cheek before heading again into the kitchen to get more food.

"At least there's gonna be a show," Daniel mutters back, drinking his own wine now.

Kent comes over to the table then, taking his place at the head, not bothering to acknowledge either of us as he takes out his phone and flicks through his messages, clearly preoccupied.

"Seriously?" I say to Daniel and Kent, and both look up at me at the same time with matching Lippert stares. "We're doing this?" I ask, looking between father and son. "We're just...having dinner again? Ignoring the fact that last night she ordered my father's assassination and ended my engagement?"

"What would you suggest, Fay?" Kent murmurs, putting his phone down on the table and turning his heavy attention to me completely.

My mouth falls open, ready to respond, before I realize that...I don't have any answers. I don't have a suggestion for what we should be doing instead. I sputter for a couple of seconds before Daniel comes to my aid.

"She's right, dad," he says, sighing and leaning back in his chair as he takes another deep sip of his wine. "It's kind of ridiculous to expect us to sit here and play nice, considering what went down last night."

"Well," Kent says, leaning back and studying us. "You're free to go, if you want," he says, giving a little shrug and a smirk. "If you're feeling...cowardly."

I glare at him a little, falling for his taunt even though I know precisely what it is.

Daniel opens his mouth to protest, but Kent cuts smoothly in. "Listen, I hear you both, okay? But the Bianci family is an incredibly important ally that I absolutely cannot afford to alienate completely, no matter how much they've pissed you off. And Daniel," he says, looking at him closely now, "they are your family. Whether or not they've made you mad, you are tied to them for life. I would suggest you find a way to create a middle ground, especially with Alessi if not Natalia."

"And what about me?" I ask, curious and a little miffed that Daniel is getting personalized mafia advice when I am not.

"You, Fay," he says, smirking at me. "I'm getting the impression that you'll make your own decisions regardless of my advice."

"Doesn't mean I don't want it just so I can do the opposite," I say, narrowing my eyes at him and making him laugh. But even as Kent laughs a little, and Natalia comes back through the door, Alessi at his heels, I don't miss the fact that Daniel frowns at me, just a little. And I realize that Kent, in that moment....

Well, that intentionally or not, he communicated to both of us that he has a little more faith in me to make my own choices than he does his own son.

But there's no time to discuss this - not really - as Natalia places a large bowl of salad on the table and then promptly sits down on Kent's lap, wrapping her arm around his neck and pretending that this is a normal thing in the Lippert house. Kent, to my displeasure, wraps a steady arm around her waist - as casual as a friend but, with the way he lets his thumb rub slowly up and down against her ...

I turn away from the sight and finish my second glass of wine, doing my best to keep my face impassive.

But I place my empty glass on the table and nod at it, silently indicating to Daniel that I'm going to need a heck of a lot more wine if I'm supposed to get through this.

 

Chapter 134

The food at dinner does me no favors by being absolutely delicious. The salad is tart and citrussy, the lasagna creamy and rich, the desert - coconut sorbet which Natalia annoyingly made from scratch - basically makes me moan when I taste it.

And I grudge every bite that I take, wishing to hell and back that I don't like it as much as I obviously do.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Fay," Natalia says warmly to me once we've all finished, delicately holding the spoon that she's been using to feed Kent sorbet. There's a wicked gleam in her eyes. "I do like to see a girl who is not afraid to eat, no matter how much it expands her waistline."

I do my best to hold back my glare as I slowly lick my spoon, savoring every drop. "Luckily," I say, lowering my silverware leisurely to the table, "that's not something I have to worry about, Natalia." I give a little shrug. "Maybe in twenty, thirty years." Her smile falters a little on her face and I decide that this little victory is the perfect note on which to make my exit.

"Thank you!" I say, getting to my feet and stretching my arms above my head in the growing dark. "This was lovely. Daniel?" I say, turning to him. "Are you coming up?"

"Sure," he says, getting to his feet as well and saying his goodnights and thank-yous around the table, as polite as he always is. Natalia, Kent, and Alessi say their farewells to us as well, but they stay at the table, turning towards each other as Daniel and I head to the door.

As Daniel leans forward to grab the handle, though, some of Alessi's words catch my ear.

"Kent," he says, "perhaps now is a good time to go through the details of the little deal that we're working through -"

I turn then, my curiosity getting the better of me, and immediately meet Kent's eyes as he frowns at me. I know, instantly, that he's sending me a very precise message: that this conversation is not for me.

But, stubborn, I pause, turning my head and doing my best to listen further as Daniel pulls open the door and takes my hand, pulling me with him.

"Wait," I murmur, straining my hearing to catch Alessi saying something about plans, about a shipment -

But then Daniel catches his father's glare as well, and he hurries to pull me through the door, despite my silent protest.

"Hey!" I say, frowning up at Daniel as he closes the door to the patio behind us. "I was listening to that!"

"You were eavesdropping, Fay," he shoots back, frowning at me. "There's a reason they were waiting to talk about it until we left."

"Yah," I say, looking up at him as if it's obvious. "Which is why I wanted to hear what they were saying!"

"Dad doesn't like that," Daniel says, putting an arm around my shoulders and guiding me through the now-empty kitchen towards the door so we can go upstairs.

"Just because he doesn't want us to know isn't a reason for us to let him keep it secret," I snap, getting angry now. "Daniel," I say, stopping in my tracks and making him turn to me. "We're in bad shape. This is not the time to be willingly ignorant about the goings-on of this family."

And then I take a minute to give him the short version of what Ivan told me this afternoon - that there's only about a week, maybe less, before something big is coming our way. That our lives are at stake.

"Fay," Daniel says, sighing and running an anxious hand through his hair as he looks back at the door. "I hear that you're anxious about this - but honestly, this is stuff that's all best left to my dad - he knows what he's doing -" "Daniel!" I protest, shocked and a little appalled. "I have as much faith in Kent as you do! But clearly, clearly this is getting out of even his hands! We need to know more!"

"Don't let him hear you say that, Fay," Daniel says, looking down at me with a worried expression. "He will...not take it well, if you suggest that this is somehow out of his hands. Because of something fucking Ivan told you."

Something about this - about Daniel coming at Ivan when he is too scared to tell his daddy that he doesn't like his process - really gets under my skin. "What," I say, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "Ivan's as much of a boss as Kent is. And now suddenly he's full of shit, just because he's your rival? My intel is good, Daniel. We need to know what's going on - I'm not just going to sit alone in my room while my life is at stake, hoping that everything is going to be okay!"

"Well!" Daniel says, spreading his hands out like there's nothing he can do. "I, for one, am going to have faith in my dad! And trust that he'll handle it, as he's asked me to, and as he's always done!"

"Cool!" I say, sarcasm obvious in my harsh tones. "Then I guess you can go and do that! Alone! In your own room tonight!"

"Great," Daniel says nastily, leaning close to my face now. "Not like I'm not alone every night in your room anyway," he whispers, bringing his face close to mine so I can hear him, apparently so used to this life that he whispers his secrets even when he's pissed as hell and we're alone in a big room.

I press my lips shut though, angry and a little cowed by his words. Because he's right. My threat doesn't have much substance to it, does it?

Seeing that I have nothing else to say, Daniel turns on his heel with a big sigh and stalks towards the kitchen door, leaving me alone.

And as the kitchen empties, the last thing I want is to follow after him like a lost little duckling.

But then, as I stand alone in the dark kitchen - a little creeped out by the large empty space - I realize that I also very much do not want to hang out alone in here.

I spin, looking for a solution, my eyes falling on the door to the back patio.

But I know they'll clam up the moment I go out there, and Natalia will use the opportunity to pick me to pieces like a little dead crab.

So I spin again and suddenly find my eyes falling on the little door to the basement - the level where Kent once chained me to a table, where before that I watched him punch the hell out of someone he was interrogating, and even before that where Fiona brought me to a little room full of archives... And suddenly, I know exactly what I want to do.

A few minutes later, I'm settled in the leather armchair that Fiona placed down here, a little book of photographs on my lap, another glass of wine that I claimed from the bottle in the fridge sitting on the table next to me. After all, I'm not going to look through teenage photos of Kent and Natalia sober.

Hell no.

I had to go through a whole pile of dusty albums until I came across this one - almost a flipbook, really, in its simplicity - just plastic sleeves holding maybe twenty-five photographs? But even one glance told me it was precisely what I was looking for. I hold it in my lap now, staring down at it, not...not really sure if I want to know.

Because...this is Lenai's book.

I brush my fingers over her name written on the front in her own, looping handwriting, my heart starting to beat a little bit faster. Because Natalia - honestly, Natalia I think I can handle. I didn't like seeing her throw herself at Kent tonight, but all I have to do is close my eyes and think of some of the things Kent does to me when we're alone to be reassured that...yeah. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. But this...

Lenai's book. Lenai's memories.

Am I ready to see pictures of Kent and the only woman he ever loved?

I stare at the photo album for a few more moments, taking deep breaths in and out.

But then, I think...fuck it.

And I grab my wine, take a big gulp, and open to the first photo.

Chapter 135

To my chagrin, the first photograph in the book is one of Kent with his arm wrapped around Natalia's

ers, grinning at the camera while Natalia crosses her arms and gives the camera saucy look.

But as I look closer at it, I can't help but smile and laugh a little. Because Kent looks so much like Daniel-so much so that if you hadn't told me any better, I'd have said that that was Daniel in the photograph wearing a flannel shirt with very 90's floppy hair. My eyes run over Kent's face, his figure, and I have to bite my lip a little at the sight of him. He just looks so young, so happy. I mean honestly, it's not like I really think of Kent as old now - he's still crazy hot and in incredible shape. But in this picture he's what... sixteen? Christ, he's younger than I am now.

I begin to flip through the album, smiling more at the vintage fashions, the shots of Kent and Natalia in the talian countryside, then lounging around in someone's bedroom, even eating gelato in a city somewhere - maybe Rome? I linger particularly on the few close-up shots of Kent's face, clearly taken by an admirer, when I realize that this album actually doesn't have any pictures of Lenai in it. And that's when I realize that it's her album because...she took the pictures.

And I go still, a little bit, realizing that this is so much more of a glimpse into her life - into Daniel's mothers life, than it is to Kent's or Natalia's. And that feels just so...incredibly intimate, to be seeing Kent through his wife's eyes before she was even his wife...that I have to close the book.

I let it rest a moment on my lap and then, on impulse, I set it quickly aside. Like it will burn me, or curse me or something - I don't know.

I pick up my glass of wine and sit quietly in the chair for a long time, trying to parse through my emot

And I'm shocked, and a little scared, to find that the one that keeps rising to the top is...jealousy.

Jealous. I'm jealous of Lenai. I want to be the one who watched Kent grow up, who got to go on his first adventures with him, who took photos of him falling asleep on a train in the Italian countryside. I want to be the one who wondered what kind of man he'd turn out to be.

And quite suddenly I'm horribly, bitterly jealous of this woman. Which I know is ridiculous because she's dead - she's been dead for a long time, and I know Kent has moved on from her.

But she got so many wonderful moments with him - moments I'll never have.

And I get what...a few stolen nights tucked away in his bedroom in secret? I mean, has he ever even touched me outside, in the light of day?

I curl up then, in my chair, tucking my face into my hands, completely overwhelmed by the realization that the best I'm ever going to get in Kent's heart is second place.

And I'm absolutely terrified by the realization that I want to be first. I want to mean more to him - I want to mean the most.

Because maybe that's what he is to...

But no. I shut down the thought, making my mind turn to other things. My brain trips over itself in its attempt to find something new to mull over, and cruelly - it turns to Ivan. To what he said yesterday - that he offered me everything, and I'd picked an old, dead man over him. Someone who will never, ever love me.

And suddenly I feel just...horribly stupid. God, what had I done?

Is this seriously it?

Did I turn down something that could have been great - the equivalent big love that Kent and Lenai had for each other - because I wanted to have sex with Kent? Did I seriously, seriously choose that? Just because Kent is hotter than Ivan - because that, I can finally admit to myself is true - but seriously, am I just a stupid girl who followed a hot guy down a path that's going to lead to my death?

I start to panic a little bit now, pressing my hands over my mouth and forcing myself - forcing myself to take deep breaths.

A few long moments pass and I start to calm down. But what I need, I realize, is a distraction. A big one. Because if I keep going along with this line of thinking, I'm going to completely freak out.

So, I reach out for the top magazine on the pile closest to my chair and drag it in front of my face, making myself flick through the pages and concentrate on the lewd photographs and the pulp fiction of a vintage Playboy from the 70s.

It takes a while, but eventually through a combination of forcing myself to concentrate, and willfully pushing away my questions about how much Kent loved Lenai, and whether I'm an idiot who is going to die because she was to s*x-addled to be smart enough to get herself away, I begin to calm down.

And as I calm down, and let myself be distracted from what are, arguably, the more important questions...I find myself starting to become intrigued.

The first time I came down here into this basement, I had been way too embarrassed to truly engage with this literature, no matter how much Fiona encouraged me. Plus, I had stumbled onto that s*x tape from Kent, which had been a step too far. My eyes flick, just once, to shelf of unlabeled black tapes - but then I decide against it. I didn't need to compare his technique with other women to what he does with me. I just avoided one jealous panic attack - perhaps best to avoid another. But as I flick through the magazine this time, now that I have what is inarguably more experience under my belt - though much less than Kent, I'm well aware - I find myself not shy at all about exploring what I'm finding on the page.

Some of it does not appeal to me at all. The pictures of solo women bearing their bodies for the photographer don't do much - I'm pretty thoroughly straight, I'm aware, so while I can admire these women's beauty, I flip through these sections pretty fast. But the images of women actually paired with men...

Especially the ones of women on their knees with men standing in front of them...

These are the ones that have me lingering on the page, studying the men's faces as they bury their fingers in these women's hair, as they come completely undone...

And suddenly, quite suddenly, I realize something. And I blink, and put the magazine down in my lap. Because I know that Kent is going to expect me to show up tonight in his room all upset, demanding answers, making him swear that he feels nothing for Natalia and that he's not going to leave me for her.

As I've made him do before.

And then, once he tells me what I want to hear, he'll take me to bed and f**k me senseless until I can't remember my name, let alone why I was mad at him. I'm well aware that Kent uses sex to influence with my emotions, to sway my decisions towards what he

wants.

And I'm also aware that up until now? Well. Let's just say it's been worth it.

But as I glance back at the women on the pages of the magazine, and the men who stand above them with their eyes pressed shut, their mouths hanging open...

I begin to wonder...could I do the same to him?

And I snap the magazine shut, getting quite suddenly to my feet.

Because I think...it may be time to ry.

"Hey," I say to Kent as I lean against the doorway after pressing open the door at the top of the stone steps, which opens soundlessly.

He turns to me, surprised. I'm earlier tonight than I usually am.

"Fay," he says, smiling and sinking his hands into his pockets as he turns to me. "Hi."

"Hi," I reply, returning his smile, my own hands deep in the pockets of the fur-trimmed robe that Kent gave me forever ago. I'm wearing the pretty moccasins he sent me too, but both are a decoy. Because underneath this robe I am wearing a v-neck romper made with completely sheer fabric. Honestly, it barely counts as clothing, the way it dips all the way down to my belly button and barely skirts my ass before dipping between my cheeks. It's uncomfortable and cold, frankly, but damn do I look good in it. And I want him hard the moment he slips this robe from my shoulders. So. Sacrifices must be made.

"What are you doing here?" Kent asks me, smirking and taking a few slow steps towards me.

I pout and him, pretending to be disappointed. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," he says instantly, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him. "I had...work to do. But it can wait." He lowers his head then to his favorite place between my neck and my shoulder, deeply breathing in my scent as I wrap my arms around his neck. "See that's a shame," I murmur, laughing a little as his breath tickles my skin. "Because I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

"Really?" Kent asks, surprised and intrigued enough to lift his head and look me in the face again. "You want something from me?" A smirk comes to his mouth.

"Yes," I say, biting my lip as an anxious little flutter starts in my stomach, because even though I'm feeling bold - and I've had enough wine to make me braver than I usually am - well. I never do anything like this. "Kent?" I ask, hesitating. "Yes?" he responds, curious.

"Do you think you can teach me how to give you a blow job?"