Ch. 176..180: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 176-180
Chapter 176
ridiculous thing I've ever heared?
didn't think we'd pushed you that far along into the realm of the ridiculous." Imaly, when the young are in love, they cannot keep their hands off of each other. You know?"
But somehow, I manage to simply laugh at Natalia's suspicion that Daniel might like men - as if it's th "Really, Natalia?" I ask, scoffing pleasantly. "I mean, I know we're not a very handsy couple or anything but "Ah well," she says, wrinkling her nose at me a little bit. "I suppose that it is just that you are American I laugh and nod along with her, giving a little shrug as if I can believe it.
"Well of course you do," she says, chuckling a little as she fingers her martini glass, "you saw it with Ke Again, I tuck my true emotions deep, deep inside myself. "Yes," I say, smiling at her. "I could tell that y She nods, looking out at the ocean wistfully. "Perhaps, in another life..." she sighs.
I, at the house." ..really had something."
I murmur something in assent, wanting nothing more than to grab her damn drink and splash it all over her face.
"But family and children are so important to us," she says, blinking out of her thoughts and turning back to me. She gives me a warm smile, apparently dismissing the thought of Kent and reaching out a hand to stroke a tendril of my hair.
I force myself not to tense up under Natalia's hand, to not clench my jaw or swat her away, instead smoking peasantly. "Anyway," she continues, "you will forgive me for trying to get Daniel to meet some other girls, yes? I had to try to find him a girl he might like, so that he could start a family. But!" she laughs now, drawing her hand away. "I was wrong - he found the wanted, without my help! As so many do."
"Yes," I say, glancing over at Daniel with what I hope looks like hero-worship in my eyes. "I understand
thers don't always see what we have. But Daniel and I love each other very much."
"I can see it now," Natalia sighs, pleased. "And soon the world will have evidence of it, when your little baby's born."
I turn back to her and grin, pretending a motherly pleasure that's absolutely fake. Because Natalia wa "Well," Natalia says, sitting back and smiling at me peacefully. "I hope you will accept my apology -I w
I smile at Natalia, and nod, but a rush of feelings flood me as I come to understand that Natalia basic about it.
Luckily, before I start to feel even weirder about this, Daniel's phone rings.
Distracted by his conversation with Alessi, Daniel glances at the phone's screen, but then his face falls "What is it?" Alessi asks, sensing that something is wrong.
"Um," Daniel says, glancing at his uncle and then at me. "It's...well, it's the prison."
My muscles tense, but I force them - one by one - to relax.
to be a very specific type of mom, and I have a strong suspicion that I want to be precisely the opposite type.
g to do my best by my boy. But I was wrong. And now, forever, we will be friends. And I will try to do my best by your boy - for Lenai's sake."
My understands herself as this child's grandmother. And that Lenai...well, that she probably would have very mixed feelings about this baby, if she ever knew
he looks at it. One by one, we all go silent as we watch Daniel stare at his phone.
"Well then," Alessi says, leaning back in his chair with a sad and empathetic expression. "I suppose you should answer it."
Daniel's face is tight as he lifts the phone to his ear and says "hello?" But the rest of us don't hear any more as he gets to his feet and walks to the deck's rail, leaning against it. He turns about thirty seconds into the phone call to give us all a thumb's up, letting us know that all is well, but then he turns away again.
Hoping, quite desperately, that Natalia can't hear how hard my heart is beating, I turn back to everyone at the table and give them a bright smile. "Dad?" I say, turning to him. "Weren't we saving a peach pie for a beautiful night like this?"
Dad hesitates for a second, staring at me, but I force my smile to deepen, to will him not to giving anything away. "You remember dad, right? Unless Janeen ate it," and then I turn, laughing, to smile at my sister.
A huge grin breaks out on Janeen's face, not a moment of it looking fake. "You know me too well, sis," she says, giving me a wink. "But I used self-restraint!" she continues, laughing and putting up her hands. "It's still there!"
Dad gets up then, heading into the kitchen to get the pie, and Janeen leans forward across the table, asking Natalia something about Italian fall fashions this year that I know she doesn't care a damn about. Still, Natalia leans in as well, speaking eagerly. Gratitude for Janeen sweeps through me then, because she picked up her role seamlessly. So much of her job at the club depends on her ability to read the room and act appropriately, after all. I lean back in my chair, thinking she's a fabulous sister to have when you're pregnant with a baby whose mafia daddy is a secret, and in jail.
And currently on the phone with your husband.
I resist the urge to look over at Daniel for the length of the phone call. When he comes back to his seat ten minutes later, I tilt my head at him in inquiry, hoping Natalia and Alessi read it as the worry of a wife for her husband. Daniel gives me a soft smile and a nod, letting me know he's okay. So, I move on, dismissing the event, and burying my burning desire to know what the hell just happened on the phone call.
Eventually - after far too long - Natalia and Alessi leave. Both kiss me warmly as we walk them down to their car, welcoming me again to the family, though perhaps this welcome is the first true one since only now are they actually convinced that I'm carrying a Bianci baby. Then, shouting their goodbyes, Natalia and Alessi pull away.
I exhale a tired sigh once Daniel and I get back into the house and I close the door behind us, leaning back against the wall.
"You all right, baby mama?" Daniel asks, smiling at my exhaustion.
"You know," I say, shaking my head with my eyes closed, "it's weirdly more exhausting now that she likes me. She's so...attentive."
Daniel laughs and puts an arm around my shoulders, leading me upstairs. "Welcome to my world."
"Awww, poor adored baby," I say sarcastically, reaching up to pinch his cheek the way Natalia does. "Always spoiled! Fawned over since the day he was born!"
"It's nice," he sighs, pretending to be chagrined, "but you're right, it is exhausting."
"Hey, I'm doing another batch of these!" Janeen calls as we enter the kitchen, holding a shaker of espresso martinis above her head. "Alessi left all the supplies!"
"Count me in!" Daniel calls, leading me out to the patio. "Make one for Jerome too!"
"You got it!" she replies. Dad's out on the patio, clearing away dishes, and I move to help but he waves me off, bidding me to sit.
"I don't like all this fussing," I grumble, sitting down hard in my chair. "Just because I have like, this tiny little ball of cells in my belly," I say, looking down at myself again, "doesn't mean I can't do anything."
"The baby's actually as big as a kidney bean now," Daniel says, sitting down next to me and grabbing a handful of cashews from a bowl on the table. He looks curiously down at them, picking one up. "Or, like, just as big as this." He laughs, grinning before popping it into his mouth.
"Don't eat the baby," I murmur, lifting my legs up to curl beneath me. But then I frown at him, cocking my head to the side. "Wait, how do you know that?"
"I've been doing research," he says, shrugging. "I'm going to be a dad, after all. The paperwork says so."
"So weird," I murmur. "Two weeks ago I'd have murdered for any documentation that the baby was Kent's -"
"Jerome's jaw would have thanked you for that," Daniel murmurs, making me laugh.
"Certainly," I agree, continuing, "but now, today, we paid a great deal of money for paperwork proving precisely the opposite," I sigh. "What a strange world."
"Please do not discount my role in this shady deal," Janeen says, coming out the door with a tray of espresso martinis in her hands. "I expect recognition and gratitude."
"You got it, sis," I say, giving her a grin. As she winks back at me, I see movement in the kitchen and wave to Jerome, who is coming up the stairs.
"The doctor was cute, Janeen," Daniel says, casually taking my hand and holding it in his, I think needing the touch as much as I do at this moment. He's stressed, I can tell, and so am I. "And clearly he likes you. What's stopping you from dating this one?" "If you date them," Janeen says, giving Daniel a little glare, "they stop paying you."
"Not my experience," I say, leaning forward and grabbing my half-drunk glass of coke.
"Yes well," Janeen says, turning her glare on me as Jerome comes out the door and heads for a vacant seat between her and Daniel, "not all of us get multi-million-dollar contracts after they've just kissed someone a couple of times."
Daniel and Jerome turn their heads to me, their eyes wide. "What's what's this?" Daniel asks, but then he stops. "Actually - keep your secrets. I don't want to know."
"Well I do," Jerome says, stopping down to give Daniel a kiss on the cheek before sitting down.
"Enough!" Janeen says, picking up a fork and clinking it against her martini glass, drawing all our attention to her. "Because I know what you two are doing," she says, pointing the fork at me and Daniel now. "You're doing your clever conversation thing - where you bring up all sorts of interesting things to distract everyone from what's important."
Daniel and I shut our mouths, smirking, because we know we've been rightly accused.
"Oh," Jerome says, turning to look at both of us now. "Yeah, I hate it when you do that. But what's she talking about? What happened?"
"Go ahead, Daniel," Janeen invites, not unkind. "What the hell happened on that phone call?"
Chapter 177
Daniel sighs and glances at Jerome, willing to explain. "We got a phone call from the prison during cocktails," he says, pitching his voice low as if he's still worried about being overheard. Probably the result of growing up in a house filled with secrets, I consider, thinking about the little kidney bean in my own belly. Would my baby be the same, being raised in a Lippert house?
"Oh?" Jerome asks, his eyes going wide. "Is everything...okay?"
"Yeah, it was..." Daniel glances at me now, "it was actually just dad calling. He got his phone privileges so that he can call people who are not his lawyers."
A thousand emotions flood me at this news but I keep my body perfectly still, blinking softly and not letting a single one of my feelings cross my face. Instead, I take a deep breath and sip at my soda. "That's so creepy, Fay," Janeen whispers, and I flash my eyes to her, confused and surprised. "What?"
"I once saw you have a meltdown because you dropped your coloring book in the bathtub," she says, leaning forward to peer at me. "You've always been like, the most emotional person I've ever met." "So?" I ask, confused.
"So?" she replies, her face twisting with displeasure. "Your husband just told you that your baby daddy, his father, just called from prison - and that he can call from prison, even though you haven't talked to him since he told you he thought you were cheating on him. And you just sit passively? You, of all people, show no emotion?"
I sigh, resting my drink in my lap and looking down at it for a second, clenching my teeth. "What do you want me to do, Janeen?" I ask, frustrated. "Break into tears? Fall on the floor in hysterics?"
"Kinda!" she says, and I whip up my head to glare at her as she throws her hands in the air. "Because that's what my sister would do! I don't know how I feel about this," she says, bringing her arms down and using her pointer finger to squiggle a line in the air between us, "this new Fay who is so placid. Were you body snatched? Are you a robot?"
"If I was," I snap, leaning forward to glare at her a little, "would I remember the time that you passed out drunk, and naked from the bottom down, in the kiddy pool? And that the neighbor's dog found you there, and stole the hotdog you were holding - all night - right out of your hand?"
Janeen gasps, clasping a hand to her chest. "That was a secret, Fay!" she hisses, leaning forward to glare at me more as Daniel and Jerome burst into laughter.
"Well at least I'm still your sister, Janeen!" I snap back, leaning further forward.
"My sister would never tell strangers -" she insists, but Daniel interrupts.
"She's doing it again, Janeen," he says, smirking at me. "Distracting you. Doing the word thing."
Janeen gasps again, her hand going back to her chest. "Fay!" she shouts, and then she takes a stray cashew off the table and throws at me. "Stop that!"
"Stop falling for it," I mutter, crossing my arms and sitting back in my chair. Then I glare at Daniel for betraying me, but he just shrugs.
"Seriously though," Jerome says, looking at Daniel now. "What did he say?"
My shoulders go rigid as I steel myself again, not sure I want to hear it. Daniel, sensing that this is harder for me than for them, puts a hand on my arm. "Do you want to know?"
"Of course she wants to know!" Janeen growls, but I take a deep breath, considering.
"Yes," I sigh, because I really do. And it's not doing any good to put it off.
"Okay," Daniel says softly. And then he takes a sip of his drink, I think wanting to steel himself in turn. "Well, there's not a ton to report. He's okay, he's...bored, and anxious. He feels really helpless and he's never been very good at feeling that way, if he ever has before."
"He said all of that?" Jerome asks, a little disbelieving.
"Well, no," Daniel sighs, twisting the stem of his martini glass. "Some of this is my interpretation. He said that jail is jail. And then he asked a lot of questions about...here. About us."
My eyes flick up to his now, and find Daniel's eyes already on me.
"He asked about you," Daniel says softly. "I told him you're okay."
"You didn't tell him I was planning anything, did you?" I ask, abrupt.
"No," Daniel says, flinching back a little bit. "I just said that you're okay. That you're feeling good in your," he hesitates now, feeling a little awkward, "...first trimester. You're not sick or anything."
I look down again, pursing my lips. Because...I can't think very hard, right now, about Kent asking about the baby. I can't let myself think about how his voice might have sounded when he asked, or whether he actually asked if I had morning sickness, or Daniel just told him...it's too much. It's all just way too much.
So I move on. Because if I don't, I'm going to have that meltdown Janeen is looking for.
"Don't tell him anything," I say quietly, looking down into my lap.
"Why not?" Daniel asks, curious.
"Because," I reply, flicking my eyes up to his. "I don't trust those phones. I know that they're supposed to be confidential because prisoners have rights, or whatever," I say, rolling my eyes, "but after everything Ivan pulled, I don't believe in rights at all anymore." I clench my teeth again, frustrated and determined, and my three comrades sit quietly, watching me.
"Kent can't know anything either," I say quietly, looking around at all of them, finally deciding to let them in on the plan, just a little bit. "Because what I have planned...he has to be in ignorance of it. Complete ignorance, all right? Until I say so." They all just stare at me, silent.
"Okay?" I ask sharply, making Janeen flinch a bit.
"Okay," Daniel replies, and my sister and Jerome just nod.
"And I don't want to take any calls from him," I say, making the decision suddenly and turning to Daniel so he sees that I mean it. "Tell him not to call me on my phone. And if he calls you on yours, I don't want to speak to him." "Why?" Daniel asks, completely confused and looking so terribly sad for me.
"Because," I say, biting out the words, ignoring his pity so that I can be bitter and determined. "As far as the world is concerned right now, Kent means nothing to me. Nothing. He's my husband's disgraced father, who embarrassed us and is going to be in jail for decades and never meet his grandchild. As far as everyone else is concerned, he never meant anything to me, and I never expect to see him again in my life."
Daniel swallows hard over a lump in his throat, but nods. Jerome doesn't say or do anything, just sits still, staring at me.
But Janeen leans forward. "Fay," she says, shaking her head. "Not even like...if Kent called now? If we were alone - and Natalia and Alessi weren't here - you...you wouldn't want to talk to him."
"No," I reply, my voice harsh, though I look down into my lap, suddenly too exhausted to hold my head up. "Because I don't trust the phones and I don't...I don't trust..."
Myself, I think, looking down into my lap.
Because that's the truth of it.
I know that if I hear Kent's voice, I'm going to fall to pieces. And I cannot - cannot fall to pieces right now. I need every bit of strength I have, and if I talk to him, even for a moment, I'm going to want to lean on him - and tell him everything - and let him sort it all out for me, and tell me what to do, and how to do it -
But he - he can't do that. He just can't - not from his place in jail - not without getting caught.
So, I have to do it for him. And it's all so precarious right now that I just can't slip.
"Fay," Janeen says, her voice too soft. With effort, I lift my head and meet her eyes. "Is it...are you moving on?" she asks, her voice squeaking a little with emotion that she doesn't usually show. "Are you...do you not love him anymore?"
I fall back in my chair, my mouth falling open in shock.
Because...
But then anger overtakes me.
"God damn it, Janeen," I snap, standing up and glaring at her over the table. "If I were giving up, do you think I'd be working this hard? If I was moving on, don't you think I'd have just taken Daniel's offer to go live peacefully in Europe and raise the baby there?" I pause, looking around at the three of them, letting my words sink in.
"I'm doing this," I continue, pressing a single finger against the table, "because I love him. All right? And that's the last time you'll hear me say it because it's too dangerous a statement to utter in this new world we're building. But don't any of you," I hiss, glaring around at all of them, "even begin to doubt it. Not for a second."
And then, too angry and overwhelmed to say anything else, I push away from the table and storm through the door into my house.
As I head to the open door of my room, I hear Janeen's question echo behind me.
"Guys...what the hell does she have planned?"
And Daniel's baffled answer.
"Honestly...I have no idea."
Chapter 178
The next morning I wake up alone, blinking in the sunlight, and the grief and loneliness hits me like a truck.
I stare at my window, looking at the patch of blue sky visible through it and listening to the sound of the gulls cawing outside, thinking that it's beautiful here by the sea. Thinking that Kent gave me this refuge away from everything so that I could have it no matter what happened to him. And I realize that he was clever enough to get me a house filled with rooms, because he knew I'd fill it with the people I love. The people we love.
And then I cover my face with my hands, unwilling to look at any of it, sick with the grief of knowing that I'm waking up here on this gorgeous morning, listening to the sounds of birds and the crashing of surf -
And he's, what? Sitting in a cinder block cell about three feet from his toilet?
Kent gave me everything.
And I...I have given him nothing.
My eyes still closed, I reach out my hand to stretch across the bed, to the place he should be sleeping.
And then I smirk, thinking that if Kent were here we wouldn't be sleeping in this little room. Janeen has the master, and while she offered it to me the night I got here, I waved her off. It would be ridiculous for her to give up the bedroom she's been sleeping in for months just because I technically own the house.
But if Kent had been there with me?
Yeah. Janeen would be out. I laugh a little to think on it.
Then I open my eyes, looking over at the empty expanse of my bed, and I smile a little to remember the last night when Kent came through the wardrobe and slept with me in my too-small bed, wrapped up in my floral comforter.
If I had known that was going to be our last night, I wouldn't have let him go so easily that morning. I would have...
But I groan, and cover my face with my hands, and force my mind away from it. Because it doesn't matter what I would have done.
What matters now...
... is what I'm going to do.
I exhale a deep breath, moving my hands down from my face and down my body so that they settle low on my stomach. And then I bend my head a little to look down at myself - though I of course can't see anything, since I'm covered in layers of blankets and pajamas.
Still, even though I can't see...I know it's there.
"How are you doing, little kidney bean," I whisper. And then, ridiculously, I wait for a response.
My head falls back on my pillow as I sigh a moment later, realizing how stupid I'm being. But really, sometimes I wonder...when the hell am I going to feel like a mom? Or even feel pregnant? Because honestly, so far, I've got nothing, and it makes me feel - sometimes - like this is all some kind of hoax.
Honestly, I never believed those TV shows before where the women are eight months pregnant before they realize it, but right now?
When I'm more than halfway through my first trimester and I feel nothing? I kind of get it.
But I know deep down that the baby is real. And that eventually my belly is going to look like I swallowed a basketball, and then I'm going to give birth and there's going to be a little person here. I wonder, passively, what they will be like.
And I smile, a little, when I realize that I hope...
Well, that I hope the baby has red hair. Like me.
And I start to laugh lightly as I realize that I want the baby to have red hair at least a little bit because...well, because I think it will piss off Kent.
And suddenly I start to laugh harder - and then I burst into tears, because I don't know how I know that it would piss off Kent to have a little redheaded baby, but I know for sure it would - that he would be jealous, and want the baby to have black hair like him. And then I realize that I'm also crying because...because I just had my first hope for my new baby. I actually hoped something, for the baby, and also for me.
And maybe...maybe that's the start of being a mom: making your first wish for your kid, even when they haven't been born yet.
I start to cry harder now, because maybe this is the start of it. Maybe I just started being a mom, all alone in this lonely bed in the house that Kent bought me. But he should be here for this. For all of it.
"Well, there she is," I hear Janeen say, and I sit up, sniffing and wiping at my tears. I didn't even hear the door open.
"What?" I ask.
"My little crybaby sister," Janeen says, smiling at me and leaning against my doorframe, wrapped in her ratty old robe. "Finally, she's back. Come on, spill," she says, grinning now. "What broke the dam?"
I sniff again and start laughing, shaking my head because I know it's ridiculous. "I hoped the baby has red hair."
Janeen bursts into laughter too, throwing her head back with it. "Seriously?" she asks, looking at me again. "And that made you cry?"
I shrug and nod as Janeen crosses the room to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and giving me a big hug. "Good," she says, kissing the side of my head. "And for what it's worth, I hope so too. We need more redheaded psychopaths in this family." "Just because they're redheaded doesn't mean they're going to be a psycho," I mutter, leaning against my sister.
"Oh, baby," she sighs, petting my messy hair, "yes it does."
"Am I interrupting something?"
I look up to see Daniel in the doorframe, leaning against it the way Janeen just was.
"No," I say taking a deep breath as Janeen pulls away from me. "Just...sister stuff."
"We were just saying we hope the baby looks nothing like you," Janeen says, giving him a wide grin.
I shove her, a little bit. "That's not what we said, Janeen."
"Your baby would be blessed to look like me," Daniel says, flashing us a gorgeous smile. "My little brother could only hope to be so lucky."
"Oh?" I say, laughing again, "is it a boy now?"
"That's his bet," Jerome says, coming to stand behind Daniel and raising a cup of coffee towards me in a toast. "I'm team girl, though."
"Atta boy," Janeen says, tossing him a wink.
Daniel opens his mouth to counter, but I put up a hand. "As fascinating as all of this is," I say, looking around at them all but letting my eyes settle on Daniel at last. "There is no time for it. Because we," I say, giving my husband a significant look, "have to get ready." "Really?" he asks, surprised and suddenly suspicious. "Why?" "Because," I sigh. "We're having lunch with my father."
"Why do you have to get ready for that?" Janeen asks, confused. "He's just going to make ham and cheese in the kitchen like he always does -"
"No, sis," I say, lifting a hand to pat her cheek. "My other father."
"Oh no," Daniel moans, sinking further against the doorframe. "Can't I get out of this? Can I have morning sickness instead of you?"
"Sorry, dear husband," I say, giving him a sad little shrug. "We're going to go get you a job."
My father was more than happy to throw me a little last-minute luncheon when I sent him a message yesterday. He's incredibly excited about being a grandfather, especially when this baby comes with wealthy Italian connections in tow. Natalia and Alessi, when I sent them a message this morning, were only too happy to shift around their plans and join in.
We're all one big happy family now, after all. With this little Bianci/Alden baby at the center, holding us together.
"You'd better be cute, kidney bean," I murmur down to my belly. "We've got a lot riding on you."
"What?" Daniel asks, turning to me, thinking that I'm talking to him.
"Nothing," I say, beaming up at him, letting everyone at the table - mostly my close Alden family, along with Natalia and Alessi - see how in love we are. Daniel, understanding his role, smiles and takes my chin in his hand, planting a slow kiss on my lips before turning back to my cousin on his other side.
He was a good sport about coming today, though he was sort of the last to be told. But he didn't have any other plans, I knew. I smirk, thinking that if I didn't bring him to lunch with me Daniel would have spent all day laying on the beach with Jerome. And while I don't begrudge them a happy day, I have need of my husband.
Because, unfortunately for him, he has an even more important role to play in the upcoming weeks.
I sit and look down at my plate, playing with my food instead of eating it, listening quietly to the conversation around me, letting a very subtle pallor of sadness and worry settle around me.
As soon as I feel a meaty hand settle on my shoulder, I know that it worked.
I look up at my father with wide, anxious eyes.
"Come along, little daughter," he says softly to me, putting out a hand to help me to my feet. "Let us go and have a chat."
Chapter 179
My father leads me to a little sitting room just off the dining room, built for little chats like this. We settle on a sofa where we can still see most of the action at the party, and where, indeed, I have a direct view of Tristin, who glares daggers at me while she holds my baby sister on her lap. Romulus leans across her, stealing a piece of chocolate from her plate, about which she doesn't notice or doesn't care.
She's too busy hating me.
I grimace a little, but turn my attention to my father, who focuses on me.
"What is wrong, daughter," he says, raising a hand to my cheek and cupping my face softly in his palm. "I can see that you are worried."
"It's nothing," I say, laughing a little and raising my hand to cover my father's, pretending a fondness and affection that belies the rage that burns in me whenever I look at this man.
Because I have not forgotten, not for a moment, what Ivan told us: that my father was the one who, alongside him, sold Kent out. That in exchange for his information, my father was also able to pass a significant number of his crimes onto Kent's shoulders, adding them to the Lippert rap sheet and wiping them off his own.
And that, though Ivan's sudden departure from the city's drug scene devastated it and has resulted in a great deal less heroin on the streets of our fair city - which was, in retrospect, probably part of his plan - that my father has absolutely benefitted from this lack, as well as the vacuum in businesses that was left when Kent was arrested.
My father is now, hands-down, the Mafia King now that Kent has been dethroned.
And yet here he is, looking down at me like the kindest, gentlest man who has ever lived - so concerned for his daughter's happiness he'll do anything in the world to help her.
And suddenly, quite suddenly, as I look up at him I want nothing more than to bare my teeth and to use them to rip out his throat for taking my world from me, from Daniel, from Kent.
But I have work to do before I can savor that particular pleasure.
"Please, daughter," my father says, taking his hand from my face and wrapping it around my shoulder. "I want to make you happy. I know that the rug has been pulled out from under you - that your wedding was hastily done, to account for the miracle growing in your belly. It makes sense that you are worried - please, let me help you, as a wedding gift."
I look down at my hands, demure, twisting my fingers together and pretending to hesitate.
Even though there's no hesitation in me at all. This is precisely what I was waiting for.
"Well," I say, looking up at him, shy. "I-I admit that...well, father," I say now, all in a gush, "you know I love Daniel - I don't want you to think that I don't -"
"Of course, of course," he says, placating, "anyone who looks at the two of you couldn't help but see it, plain as day."
Yeah, I think. Anyone who hasn't seen him with Jerome. Inwardly I roll my eyes, but outwardly I press on with my act.
"Well, he's so good to me father, and so kind, and thoughtful, but..." I take a deep breath and look fully up into my father's face, "I don't think he's very good with money."
My father nods slowly, making soft understanding noises and encouraging me to tell him more.
"Kent left us some," I say, speaking of him as if he's dead - which is how I want my father to think of him as well. "But - you know it's all tied up in legal issues. We have plenty to get by," I continue hurriedly, "but...it's not enough. Not for forever. Especially..." I look down at my stomach now, letting him fill in the blanks.
"Not enough for the child's future," he says, understanding.
I nod, agreeing even though inwardly I laugh. Daniel and I still have the greater part of four million dollars in cash, alongside my beach property and whatever it is that Daniel has in Europe. If a single baby can't be raised on this?
Well. Let's just say that I'm glad Tristin is a bit of a high-maintenance wife, at this point. I make a mental note to thank her at some later date.
"So what would you have me do, Fay," my father asks, his voice friendly and kind, pleased at the prospect of being able to do something for me, for his grandchild.
"I wondered," I say, turning my head and looking up at him like he's my saving grace, "if you could...teach him? Just a little bit? His father - Mr. Lippert," I say, laughing inwardly at my use of the name, "didn't teach Daniel very much about the ways of...business." I heavily emphasize the last word of my sentence, making it impossible for my father to not hear "business" as "mafia."
My father lifts his chin and hums, arching a brow as if he thinks Kent a great fool.
I press on.
"Do you think you could teach him?" I ask, as if I just came up with the idea now, a bright new thing. "Just a...just a little bit?" I say eagerly, pressing my hands to his arm. "Just to get him started?"
My father hesitates, perhaps not wanting to take a Lippert into his business, but then his eyebrows raise as he perhaps considers the closer ties he'd have to the Bianci family if he takes Daniel under his wing. "Well, perhaps," my father murmurs. "In some small way..."
But I snatch my hands away, suddenly hesitating, and my father turns to me, asking me what's wrong.
"I don't..." I whisper now, glancing over my shoulder as if afraid Daniel will hear me. "I don't want Daniel to go to...jail. Not like...his father. So....is there a part of your business? That would be...safer?"
My father nods, considering, perhaps running through the rolodex of industries that he has under his name. The greatest share of his profits come from running in the drug trade, I know - but I want Daniel nowhere near that.
"I could...perhaps put him somewhere in waste management," my father says, considering, but I screw up my face in distaste, making my father laugh. "Ah, the little bride does not want her husband coming home smelling of trash?"
"I don't think he'd like it very much either," I say, shaking my head. "Daniel is picky, and I don't want him to hate it. Do you have anything...nicer?"
"Well, you would not have him in the clubs, would you," my father sighs, speaking of the dozens of bars and strip joints that he owns around the city. Again, I shake my head. That's not it. Come on, dad...
"Or," he says, his eyebrows suddenly going up. "We do have the investments in shipping..."
I gasp a little in pretend inspiration and my father looks at me, a smile starting.
"Daniel really likes boats," I say, nodding eagerly, pretending as much as I can to be a stupid little girl. My father laughs and wraps his arm around me, pleased.
"So, the boy likes boats does he? Well, they aren't sailing ships - they're shipping vessels, the kind with big metal containers and lots of goods."
"What kind of goods?" I ask, curious, and my father begins to rattle them off. I listen with half an ear, my mind already moving on to the next parts of my plan. Because with Daniel as a shipping magnate? Or, at least with his fingers in the game?
Well. From there, I can get started.
"Do you think that would please you, Fay?" My father asks, giving my shoulders a little squeeze.
And I look up at him with a big, beaming smile. "Yes, father," I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "More than you know."
"Than it shall be done," he says, heaving himself up from the couch and then offering a hand to me, which I take. "Come, let's go offer your new husband a job."
Chapter 180
"I can't believe you got me a job," Daniel grumbles from the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares out the window. "Bout time," Jerome murmurs as he drives, smirking as he keeps his eyes on the road.
Daniel makes a squeak of protest as he turns to glare at his boyfriend, but Jerome just laughs. "Seriously, Danny," he says, shaking his head, "you've never had a job in your life. Pay your dues! Especially as it doesn't sound like Donna Lippert back there," he says, pointing at me with a thumb over his shoulder, "intends for you to do it forever."
"Just for a little bit, Daniel," I say, looking up from my phone for just a second to see him glaring at me, "until we get the information we need."
"And what information," Daniel snaps, "do we need? So I can get it and get out of there as fast as possible."
"I don't know yet," I sigh, content. "I'll know it when I hear it."
Daniel grumbles more and Jerome laughs at him.
"You know this is your fault, Jerome," I call to him, tucking my phone back into my purse and smiling as I stir the pot.
"What!?" he gasps, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. "What the hell did I do?"
"You pamper Daniel," I say, grinning and settling back against the leather of my own seat. "You take him to the beach all day, and carry his bag, and make it so he never wants to do a day of work in his whole life, because he just wants to hang out with you -" "Um, I did not start this pattern, Fay," Jerome corrects, "it's your baby daddy that let him go to college for eternity, majoring in end-of-the-road degrees like English and Philosophy and Archaeology."
"True," I say with a sigh. "Though I'd like to see you accuse Kent of it to his face."
"I would," Jerome says, assured. "As long as he was...still behind bars."
We all laugh at that, Daniel shaking his head and not really denying that he's been a bit of a spoiled rich boy his whole life. But neither Jerome nor I really hold it against him - though we are willing to tease him about it. We like Daniel just the way he is, and I know Jerome in particular likes to dote on him. It's part of why they work.
Daniel, I suspect, pays Jerome back in his own way.
But before I can decide whether I even want to consider what those methods of payback are - he is my husband, after all - I sit up straight when we turn the corner onto our street and I see a familiar car in the driveway.
"No way," Jerome murmurs, slowing down and shaking his head.
"They let him keep the Ferrari?" Daniel whispers, completely shocked.
My heart begins to pound as I realize that, while I thought today's work was over and I could just relax...
Apparently, it's just begun. Because Ivan has come for a visit. And I have to be very, very careful with how I handle this.
"Did you know about this?" Daniel snaps, turning to me suddenly.
"I did not," I answer, firm, my voice low with my instant anger at the accusation behind his question.
"Well you didn't tell me about lunch today -"
"This is different," I snap. "And you know it."
Daniel takes a deep breath, staring at me, and then he nods, understanding.
"All right, boys," I say, leaning forward to look out the windshield, trying to see if Ivan is anywhere in sight. But I don't see him yet. "Follow my lead."
"Hey, Fay!" Janeen calls to me from the kitchen in the sing-song way she always used to do when we were kids. Then her head peeks around the corner of the second-floor landing, an eager grin on her face. "Your cop friend came to visit."
I roll my eyes at her as I make my way up the stairs, Daniel and Jerome coming along behind me.
"Thanks, Janeen," I murmur. "But we kind of figured it out, considering the flashy car in the driveway."
"You know me," Ivan says as we come into the kitchen. I immediately turn to face him. "I always like to make an impression."
I look Ivan up and down, considering that his look has completely changed since he's come out from being under-cover. Whereas he was always bad-boy chic before, now he's...well, he's clean cut in black pants and a button-up shirt. But somehow he's still got that air of bad boy around him. The tattoos, after all, are all real.
Ivan smiles as he sees me taking him in, slowly lifting a glass of lemonade to his lips and taking a sip.
"Seriously?" I ask, turning to Janeen and frowning at her. "You gave him refreshments?"
"Well, I will not be rude, Fay," Janeen says, giving me a mock frown that secretly tells me how delighted she is at all the drama occurring in the house right now. "Not in my own home."
"My home," I correct, walking to the fridge and pulling it open, grabbing a water bottle and then walking past Ivan, heading for the back deck. "Come on," I say, waving to him.
"Fay," Daniel snaps, making me look over my shoulder at him, but I don't stop. "Are you actually going to talk to him?"
"Don't be jealous," Ivan says, walking backwards to grin at Daniel as he follows me towards the deck. "I'm only chatting with your wife. Not your boyfriend."
Daniel growls and lunges forward but Jerome easily catches his arm, holding him back and laughing a little. "Come on, Danny," Jerome murmurs. "Don't rise to the bait that easy."
Ivan's still smiling as he turns to me where I stand at the back slider, my eyebrows raised. "Do you have to?" I ask, gesturing him outside.
"I do not," he replies with a sigh and a shrug. "Though I find it very hard to resist."
I shake my head at Ivan as I slide the door shut behind him, making eye contact with Daniel and nodding so that he knows that I've got this handled. Daniel just settles on the couch, his arms crossed, staring out at us - apparently content to watch everything we do. Jerome, to his credit, settles beside Daniel and picks up a magazine from the table, starting to flick through it. Janeen does the same.
"So," Ivan says, settling back in his chair and giving me his patented satisfied smile. "How are you enjoying married life?"
"It's great," I snap, and then I nod my chin towards him. "What happened to your face?"
"Oh this?" Ivan asks, running a hand over the right side of his jaw, where a large bruise is fading from purple to green, just barely visible on his pale skin. He grins. "What do you think happened?"
"No way," I say, leaning forward, my eyes going wide. "Kent punched you?"
"Punched the shit out of me," he confirms, sighing and smirking at me. "He's fast, for an old guy."
I laugh a little and shake my head, a little pleased that Ivan underestimated Kent's physicality and paid the price for it.
But after a moment, I look up at Ivan and c**k my head to the side. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?" he asks, taking another sip of his lemonade.
"Disarm me like that?" I ask, genuinely curious. "I came into his house ready to hate you, and what, sixty seconds later? You have me laughing."
"It's still me, Fay," Ivan says, leaning forward a little, holding my gaze. "I know that...that there's been a lot of lies, and misinformation. But..." he shakes his head, "you still know me. The connection we made over these past couple of months - it was real."
I sit back in my chair, looking away from him, still determined to hate him but...well, kind of believing what he says. That as much as Ivan is a cop now, instead of a mafia boss, he's still also the guy I formed such an intense connection with when I really needed support.
It's complicated. It may always be complicated.
The fact that it's complicated doesn't change anything at all but...well. It does make everything just a little bit more difficult, which is not at all what I need.
"What are you even thinking about, Fay?" Ivan asks, interrupting my thoughts and making me blink and look at him.
"What?" I ask.
"You just spaced out for a solid minute and a half," he says. "What are you thinking?"
"I was thinking about how you ruined my life," I say bluntly, cocking my head to the side, curious to see how he takes my words. "And how to get you out of here as fast as possible." "Lie," he says, giving me a little wink.
I sigh, looking down into my lap for a second. "You always could tell when I was lying, Ivan," I murmur.
"Because I know you, Fay," he says, leaning forward, eager.
I look up into his eyes again. "Why are you here, Ivan?"
"Because I want to help you," Ivan replies, honesty all over his face, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "And I want you to forgive me. And trust me."
"Why on earth do you want that?" I ask, my voice soft because...I'm not sure I'm ready for his answer.
"Because," he says, his voice equally soft, as if he's not sure he's ready to say it. "Even though you're married? And knocked up with my enemy's kid?" he shakes his head. "I...can't stop thinking about you, Fay." My lips curl up into a very small, very hesitant smile.
And I let him see it.