Ch. 46..50: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 46-50

Chapter 46

It's a happy affair, really - everyone seems eager to greet me, to bring me plates of food, to ask me about my life, my studies, and my career.

As people start to settle in for the evening and stronger liquor starts to be poured into everyone's cups, I start to notice...well. That there are a lot of boys around.

I look around the circle, noting that there are, of course, women - aunts and cousins, many of them. But I've also been introduced, this afternoon, to a variety of handsome young men. All here alone. And all, apparently, single.

For instance, the one who is talking to me now - or, should I say, who has been talking at me since he sat down in Tristin's seat as soon as she abandoned it to go feed the baby.

"Yeah, I'm in finance," he says, taking a swig of his beer. He gives me a little smirk. "So, you majored in psych, right?" he asks.

I squirm a little in my chair, uncomfortable. "Um," I say, "how did you know that?"

"Your dad told me," he says, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture towards my father across the fire. "Or at least, he told my dad. Who told me." The guy looks at me again. "They, uh...know each other." "Oh," I say, my lips pursing as I look away from him. Am I supposed to know what that means?

"Yeah," the guy continues - what was his name again? "So, our dads think it's a good idea if we like, get to know each other." He waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.

I sit back in my chair, my mouth falling open.

"So are you free?" he asks, leaning in. "On like, Saturday? I'll take you out somewhere nice. And then maybe, afterwards..." he runs a finger along my forearm, which I immediately snatch away.

"Um, sorry," I say, staring at him. "But I'm engaged?"

"What?" he says, sitting back in his chair. Then, suddenly, he laughs. "No, you're not."

"I assure you," I say, opening my eyes wide and leaning forward. "I am. To that guy," I point over to Daniel, who is still playing volleyball in the fading sun. Though, because he's far away, I guess my pointing towards a generalized group of men isn't very convincing. The young man next to me has the gall to laugh again. "No seriously," he says, taking another swig from his beer. "If you're engaged, then where's your ring?"

I fish around in my beach and then slide my engagement ring back on my finger. I had taken it off while I ate crab and lobster - too much butter. I didn't want to risk it slipping off and getting lost in the sand.

"Seriously?!" the guy shouts, his face going a little pale when he sees the size of it. He stands up immediately from his seat and stalks off towards my father. I stare after him, hearing him as he mutters, "then why the hell am I here?"

"I have no idea," I mutter in response, watching him tap my father on the shoulder, having some angry words with him. As I watch the little argument break out, I see, out of the corner of my eye, someone else take his seat. "What'd you say to that one," the newcomer mutters.

"I just told him I'm engaged," I say lightly, and then, turning my head, blink in surprise to see that it's the young man with all the tattoos. The one I had noticed, earlier, when we'd first arrived at the beach. "Oh!" I say, surprised into exclamation. He smirks at me and, predictably, I blush. I scowl, really wishing I didn't do that all the time.

"So," he says, giving me a friendly smile. "Apparently you're the lady of the hour."

"Am I?" I say eagerly, leaning in, hoping this guy can give me a clue about what's going on. "Do you know anything about this?" I look around at all of the guys. "Like, why there are so many guys here?"

"Because, Fay," the guy says, laughing. "It's a meat market. Your dad invited all of these guys here to meet you. Specifically, to meet you." He raises his eyebrows at me, confirming that he means exactly what I think he means.

"Are you serious?" I whisper to him, angry. "My dad is seriously bacheloretting me!?"

He laughs at that and then nods. "Yeah. Imagine his dismay when your fiancé showed up, too. Luckily, he got his kid to distract him."

"Oh my god," I say, shocked, my eyes going to the volleyball game where I see Daniel and Romulus giving each other high fives. "Even little Romulus is in on it!?"

The guy laughs again, shaking his head. "They get 'em young, in this world," he says, apparently enjoying my shock. I turn back to him, then, studying him, and realizing that he's not enjoying it in a nasty way. Instead, he, too, thinks it's a little bit ridiculous. The very real ridiculousness of it all hits me then, and I laugh as well.

Suddenly, the two of us are laughing together, me a little hysterically, him along for the ride.

"Oh my god," I say, leaning back in my chair and resting a hand against my chest as the laughter starts to abate. "I can't believe this. What is he thinking?!"

"He's thinking," my new friend says, smiling at me gently. "That he has a very pretty new daughter, and he wants to see her set up right."

I shake my head a little, growing confused and a little worried. I've been engaged since birth, apparently - an arrangement my father set up. What on earth had changed that he suddenly wants me to meet new people?

"Who are you?" I ask suddenly, cocking my head to the side. I've realized, suddenly, that we haven't been introduced. "Are you one of the candidates?"

He smirks and shrugs. "I am if you want me to be."

I can't help the little smile that creeps onto my lips, then. He's terribly handsome, this young man with the dangerous tattoos climbing all the way up to his neck. And, he's been really, really nice to me in these past few minutes. "I'm Ivan," he says, leaning over the side of his chair to extend his hand for a shake.

I take his hand on instinct, but my blood goes cold as I realize exactly who he is.

Ivan.

Ivan.

That name has been rattling around Kent's kitchen for weeks now - Kent's top enemy, the guy my father blamed for blowing up his party - the one who tried to kill us.

As my face goes pale, Ivan laughs a little and withdraws his hand. But his face stays friendly as he studies me. "I see my reputation proceeds me," he says, smirking a little. "Um," I say, staring at him with wide eyes, not knowing what else to say.

Because in front of me is one of the most dangerous men in the underworld, second only perhaps to Kent himself.

Ivan, the young Kingpin of the city's heroin trade.

And he just told me that he's throwing his hat in the ring, if I want to consider him a potential replacement for my fiancé.

And if I'm being honest with myself? For a second, I consider it.

 

Chapter 47

Ivan laughs at me then, at my speechlessness, and I can't help myself - I laugh too, putting my head in my hands. "Yes," I say, blushing terribly. "I have heard of you. And I have to say, it has not all been good things."

"Oh, come on," he says, still laughing a little. "It can't have been all bad."

I peek out from between my fingers and raise an eyebrow at him letting him know that, yeah. It's all been bad.

"What," he says, joking, "nobody told you about my striking good looks or my debonaire sense of style when they were telling you about my success in the drug trade?"

I shake my head slowly, finding myself laughing again. I can't help it - he's terribly charming.

"Well," he says, giving me a sexy little half-smile. "Now you know."

Ivan catches the eye of a waiter and holds up a hand. "Two shots of tequila," he says, definitive. The waiter nods, walking the short distance to the little bar and interrupting the bar tender to get the order in right away. "What -" I say, my eyes following the waiter. "No, I can't -"

"Oh, come on, Fay," Ivan says, leaning back in his chair. "Relax. I can tell you've just had the surprise of your life. You need a little something to settle the nerves."

The waiter comes back and Ivan takes the drinks from him, sliding him a folded bill and giving him a wink. I can tell by the waiter's pleasure that it's a gigantic tip.

I hesitate, but Ivan winks at me as well and holds the shot nearer to me.

So, I take it from his hand, shrugging. The truth was, I could use a little bit of a relaxant right now. If I'm the unwitting bachelorette in my father's little setup, then I'm not sure I want to do it sober.

"Bottoms up," I say, taking the lime off the edge of the glass and holding it up to toast Ivan. He does the same, and then watches me slowly lick the salt from the rim of the glass and toss my shot back before doing the same.

The tequila is sharp in my throat and sinuses and I can't help it as my whole body shudders. I make a face, then, at the taste of it, sticking out my tongue and pressing my eyes closed.

I can hear Ivan laugh at me. "The lime," he says. "Bite the lime."

I do, and, indeed, it brings some relief, the acid of the lime chasing away the sharpness of the tequila on my tongue.

I laugh as I open my eyes again, meeting Ivan's smile with my own. He gestures to the waiter again, ordering another round, and I lean back in my chair, letting him.

I'm a little surprised at myself, then - a feeling that's becoming oddly more familiar as the weeks pass. Fay of a few weeks ago would have run screaming when she found out that she was doing shots of tequila with the wunderkind head of a mafia organization. With Kent's worst enemy.

But Fay of today? Honestly, I'm kind of enjoying myself.

"See?" Ivan says, leaning closer to me. "You're already more relaxed."

"You're right," I murmur, looking around at all of the people in the circle - at all of my suitors, apparently. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all, at the wasted effort.

After all, I'm engaged to Daniel, and I'm very happy to be.

...Right?

The waiter comes and delivers our second glass of tequila. This time, it's Ivan's turn to introduce the toast.

"To Fay," he says, raising his glass. I smile and raise mine along with him. "The most eligible bachelorette of the city's underworld. Too bad she's already got a rock the size of a golf ball on her hand. More's the pity for the rest of us."

My glass shakes a little against my mouth as I laugh at his joke before downing the contents, holding my lime at the ready as I do.

When we're finished, I settle back in my chair, leaning a little closer to Ivan so that we can talk quietly.

"So," I say, actually relaxed, looking at him from beneath half-lidded eyes. "How did a nice boy like you get mixed up in all of this organized crime, anyway? Were you born to it, like me?"

"Nah," he says, smiling at me indulgently and leaning a little closer as well.

Then, to my surprise and pleasure, he begins to tell me his life story.

I find myself paying rapt attention to Ivan's story for the next half hour, sipping on the glass of tequila that the waiter again delivers, savoring the bite and the taste. He's actually really, really interesting - a totally self-made guy, climbing up through the ranks with nothing but sheer will, determination, and cleverness.

Despite myself, I'm impressed. Before all of this I had thought I liked the kind of prince-charming guys who would politely deliver you a rose and ask you, tentatively, if you'd be interested in being courted.

But as I listen to Ivan, and let my eyes rove over his muscles and his tattoos...I wonder, a little, if my tastes are changing.

As I consider it, my mind flashes - unwillingly - to Kent for a moment as well. He doesn't have any tattoos, I note, or at least, none that I can see - but otherwise, these two are pretty similar...

I dismiss the thought, though, bringing my attention back to Ivan. He sees me focus on him at that moment, a slow smile building on his face. He intuits, I think, that I like what I see. That I am, begrudgingly, impressed.

I bite my lip, letting him see me do it.

His words falter for a moment as his eyes flash to my front teeth pressed lightly against the red flesh of my mouth. Then his eyes flash back up to mine and he smiles, continuing his story. Pretending that he wasn't distracted, though we both know he was. Damnit, I think. I like that. I like that, maybe, a little too much.

"What the hell is going on here!?"

I gasp a little - the words surprise me - and jump in my seat, looking up at the fire-lit person standing in front of me - Firelight? When had the sun gone down -

My eyes focus, then, and I realize that it's Daniel standing there - his shirtless form a little sweaty from all the volleyball.

"Daniel," I say, sitting up straight - not knowing, really, how to react.

"Come on, Fay," he says firmly, angrily, grabbing my arm and pulling me up from my seat. "We're leaving."

"Hey man," Ivan says, frowning and standing up. "We were just talking -"

"Whatever," Daniel murmurs, dragging me forward.

Shocked, I let him pull me, glancing back at Ivan - not quite saying sorry, but, in fact, a little sorry - and embarrassed - to be dragged away like this-

"Daniel," I say, pulling against the hand wrapped around my upper arm. "Let me go."

"No, Fay," he says, still pissed off. "Do you even know who that was? Who you were talking to?"

"It's just Ivan," I say -

"Just Ivan?" Daniel repeats, whirling on me.

I look around, embarrassed to see that everyone is staring at us. I open my mouth to respond but Daniel keeps going.

"Just Ivan?" he says. "My dad's greatest enemy? The guy who tried to kill us not too long ago?"

My mouth just hangs open - I honestly don't know what to say -

"You will release my daughter's arm, Mr. Lippert," a voice says, and I turn my head to see my father standing there, glaring at Daniel with a heavy gaze.

Daniel grits his teeth and doesn't release me. "Thank you for the lovely evening," he bites out towards my father. "But we'll be going now."

My father doesn't say a word, just looks, again, at Daniel's hand. To my surprise, Daniel hesitates, and then drops my arm. "Come on, Fay," Daniel says, not looking at me and storming off towards our car. "We're leaving."

I glance after him and then back at my father, torn. "Um, thank you," I say awkwardly. "Thank you for a lovely afternoon."

Then, I hurry after Daniel, our guards following after us.

As I reach the car, though, just as I'm about to climb in, I take a moment to glance back at the beach.

Ivan is standing there, right where I left him, watching me. He raises one hand in farewell.

I can't help the little smile that pulls up at my lips as I give him one long, final look and then climb into the car after my fiancé.

 

Chapter 48

Daniel won't let go of my hand once we're back in the house.

"Daniel," I say, exasperated, trying to yank my hand free while he pulls me down the hall. "Let go - are you seriously going to tattle on me?"

He just shoots me a look over his shoulder, saying nothing as we arrive at the doors to his dad's office. He knocks loud, twice. I sigh, shaking my head at him while we wait.

Honestly, it's not that I think Daniel is being ridiculous - if I had found him flirting with someone who had tried to kill us only a little bit ago, I would be equally pissed. I just don't really want to have this conversation with Kent.

The door pulls open, Kent on the other side. He takes one look at us before stepping back and allowing us to enter. Daniel doesn't drop my hand, but not because he's trying to give me any love and support in the face of his father's judgment. I'm his prisoner and he's not letting me go.

Daniel pulls me over to stand in front of Kent's desk as Kent walks around the other side. None of us sit.

"What happened," Kent demands, folding his arms over his chest.

"Fay," Daniel glares at me, saying my name like it's a dirty word, "had a nice intimate chat with her new buddy Ivan tonight. Drinks too. And it looked like it was going somewhere."

Kent frowns at Daniel then, surprising me. "So what?" he asks his son, shrugging a little. "Is this some kind of lover's quarrel? Your fiancé talked to another man, and you want me to do something about it?"

Daniel's jaw falls open at this. "Wha-" he sputters. "No, dad, that's obviously not the issue -"

Yeah, I think to myself, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, it's not the issue because you're not actually jealous - because you're not actually into me.

Daniel gestures to me then, his eyes still on his father. "Did you not hear what I just said? She was talking to Ivan. Your enemy."

Kent does shift his gaze to me at that moment and I can see him consider the situation, processing the details. I don't move a muscle. Instead, I just hold his stare, my hand still in Daniel's fist.

"Well?" Kent says finally, his face impassive. "What did he say?"

Daniel looks between us, agape. "Wait - are you serious?" He shouts at his father. "You're not going to do anything about it?"

Kent snaps his gaze to his son, glaring at him. "And what would you like me to do about it, Daniel? Go back in time and stop her?"

My lips twitch in pleasure at this. I, like Daniel, had been expecting Kent's anger to be directed at me. But apparently, at least for now, I'm off the hook. Still, I quickly wipe the expression from my face. I don't know where this is going, not really, and I don't want to incur anyone's wrath.

Daniel scowls, dropping my hand and crossing his own arms across his chest, looking like his father's double in this moment. I look between the two, struck again by their similarities.

"Obviously, dad, that is not what I want," he says, frustrated. "But she betrayed us tonight - and made me look like an idiot!"

Kent's eyes shift back to me. "Is that true?" he asks. "Did you make Daniel look like a fool?"

I exhale, exasperated, spreading my hands innocently. "I didn't do anything, okay? If anything, my father made Daniel look like a fool. The whole thing was a setup - he threw the party so that he could introduce me to all his friends' single sons. By the time I figured it out - what was I supposed to do, storm out of there?"

Kent nods slowly, figuring out the darker motives behind my father's little party, considering the consequences for himself.

"Besides," I say, shooting Daniel a dirty look of my own. "It's not like Daniel was playing Mr. Attentive Fiancé all night - he was off playing volleyball for hours. What was I supposed to do - just not talk to anyone because he wasn't at my side?"

Daniel and Kent both glare at me then and I realize, suddenly, that this is what they both would have preferred.

"Seriously?!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. "Are you guys serious? How the hell was I supposed to know any of this? I didn't know who Ivan was until we were already talking with each other - and, to that point, nobody told me I wasn't supposed to talk to some guy named Ivan anyway!"

I glare at both of them then, though neither flinch.

"Honestly," I continue, exhausted by the whole situation, "you two, you hold me to some seriously unfair standards. I don't know these people, I don't know what the rules are. And yet you expect me to intuit them and act precisely how you want me to."

I shake my head, my lips drawing to a firm line, and then I cross my arms over my chest, just as they're both doing. There's silence between us as we all glare around in a circle.

Daniel gives first. I see him sigh and loosen his arms, putting his hands in his pockets instead. He sees that I have a point and he looks down at the floor, a little ashamed of himself.

Kent, however, doesn't give an inch.

"Leave us," he says to Daniel, not looking at him.

Daniel opens his mouth to protest, but Kent cuts him off.

"Leave us," he repeats, not taking his eyes off of me.

Daniel just shakes his head and leaves without another word, not even looking at me. I watch him go and then turn back to Kent.

"You're on dangerous ground, Fay," Kent says, his voice low.

"Wha- why?" I ask, honestly confused. "Because I still can't see anything that I've done wrong - I just went to a party and talked to my father's guests. If you didn't want me to do that, then you shouldn't have let me go to the party!"

Kent slowly shakes his head at me then. "No, Fay," he says evenly. "You misunderstand. You're not on dangerous ground with me. You're on dangerous ground in this world."

I frown at him, confused. So, he obliges me with an explanation.

"You see, Fay," Kent says, unfolding his arms and looking down at his desk. "Your father changed the game tonight, and you let him do it."

He takes a handful of change from his pocket and scatters it on the desk. I look between him and the money, confused. Then he slides one penny forward out of the mix.

"The only thing that was protecting you in this world, Fay," Kent continues, "was your engagement to Daniel. As a soon-to-be member of my family, you had my protection."

He takes two quarters, placing them next to the penny, blocking the penny off from the rest of the change.

"But," he continues, "tonight your father opened the opportunity for you to show the world where your allegiance lies. And, in leaving Daniel behind," he moves the penny around the quarters so that it mingles again with the rest of the cash on the table, "you've left yourself open. For anyone else to claim, should they wish it."

I stare at the cash on the table, realizing, suddenly, the seriousness of what happened tonight.

"You see, Fay," Kent continues, picking up a little dime and holding it towards my face. "Your dad, in this world? He's not a penny like you, but he's small shakes. And he's getting weaker. I want him on my side, because he has resources I'd like to use."

Kent puts the dime back on the table, mixing it with the rest of coins. "But," Kent continues, "Alden's trading you," he slides the penny to sit next to the dime, "to the highest bidder. For his allegiance. Seeing if he can get a bigger fish than me to bite." I look up into Kent's eyes, then, understanding.

"Ivan is that fish," I say quietly.

Kent nods and I look back down at the desk, the money scattered there.

"I'll let you think on it, Fay," Kent says quietly. "About where your allegiances lie. About where it is that you want to be in this world."

I don't look at him then, but I hear his footsteps cross the room. Hear him open the door, hear it close behind him.

I stare, instead, at the coins on the desk. I reach forward to touch the penny, thinking deeply about where it is that I do want to be.

Again, I've greatly misunderstood and miscalculated the complicated politics of this world. A party is never just a party, and I've again fallen into that trap.

One thing in Kent's little metaphor doesn't quite add up.

I reach out, picking up the little shiny penny that represents me, my eyes glancing at my million-dollar engagement ring as I do.

If all of these men are going through all of this effort to figure out where I land, then I'm certainly not a one-cent piece. I'm certainly not the least valuable coin on the table.

And everyone - Kent, my father, Ivan, Daniel even - they all want me to think that I am, that I am some penny or some pawn.

But what I'm starting to realize, through all of this, is that I'm worth much more to them, and to myself, then they'd like me to believe.

After all, if a pawn crosses the entire chess board...she becomes a queen.

I smirk, slipping my penny into the pocket and quietly leaving the room. I head upstairs to bed, not bothering to say goodnight to anyone.

 

 

Chapter 49

Kent climbs out of the second of three cars that take him and his captains to the meeting. He has shown up in force today, his overblown security force a deliberate message to Alden. Kent is done being pushed around and will rally his superior forces to stop it, if necessary. Climbing the short few steps into the strip club, Kent remembers the last time he was here. When he had followed Fay into the Champagne Room, saw that pig of a man pressing her up against the cocktail table, ready to do as he pleased with her. That moment had set his blood on fire. He had acted mostly on instinct that night, thinking he was helping a pretty young girl who didn't deserve to be wrapped up in Dean's particular brand of s****l depravity. Little did he know what a diamond he'd found in this rough space.

Kent and his crew enter, heading directly for the back of the club, ignoring the pounding music and the dancers lighting up the stage. Instead, Kent's crew works their way towards a back door where one of Kent's security detail is already waiting. The security agent nods to Kent, letting him know all is well, so Kent pushes through the door.

Alden is there already, waiting, as Kent knew he would be. Kent had delayed deliberately, had let the man wait.

"Lippert," Alden says, tapping his fingers against the low coffee table set in front of him that has a spread of food and drinks already laid upon it. The room was nice, for a strip joint - the nicest they had. Leather seating ranges around the room with purple and chrome accents.

Alden has brought his own small crew - certainly fewer than Kent's numbers. They look around anxiously as Kent's people fill the room.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Kent says, still standing, looking down at Alden. Letting him know precisely his place in the relationship.

Alden sneers at Kent, just a little, his lip twitching with displeasure. He understands everything Kent's late arrival, his increased forces, and condescending manner are trying to say to him. And he doesn't appreciate it.

"Sit down, Kent," Alden says, leaning back on his chair and pretending a casual attitude he doesn't actually feel. "You called this meeting, pulled me out to this rat's den in the middle of the day. What is it you want to say!" Kent does sit, one of his captains pulling over a chair for him.

"I want to know what you're playing at," Kent says carefully, leaning forward so an elbow rests on his knee. "I want to know why you're hosting parties at which your daughter is having intimate chats with Ivan."

"Intimate chats," Alden says, laughing lightly, trying to play it off. "It was just a little barbeque at the beach - they ended up sitting next to each other, by chance. These young attractive people - you know how they always seem to find each other." Kent says nothing, simply narrowing his eyes at Alden. Letting him know he doesn't buy it.

Alden just shrugs, leaning back against his seat. "She's a beautiful girl, my Fay. Young men want to talk to her. I can't help that."

Kent carefully notes the possessive in Alden's sentence. His Fay. Kent rankles at the ownership there, but doesn't let it show on his face.

"What was Ivan even doing at your barbeque, Alden?" Kent asks, leaning further forward and putting on the pressure. "The last time we talked, you told me that he was responsible for the attempt on my life at that party you threw to introduce Fay to your family." "A misunderstanding," Alden says lightly, waving a hand to dismiss it. "Ivan spoke to me, after he realized that the evidence was pointing towards him. Assured me, in no uncertain terms, that he had nothing to do with it."

"And you never thought to share that information with me?" Kent asks, turning his head to the side, his question taking on the edge of a threat. "Though surely you would have known that I would be interested."

Alden just shrugs, leaning casually forward and taking a chicken wing from a platter on the table. He takes a nibble of it before responding. "Well, Ivan told me that he wanted to tell you himself. Assure you in the same certain terms."

As if on cue, the door opens again, a young man pushing through. Unlike Kent and Alden, he's totally alone. He's dressed well, though he prefers designer sweatsuits to the traditional suit. He wears them exclusively in shades of black and grey, to compliment his monochrome tattoos.

"Sorry, if I'm late," Ivan says, smirking at Kent, standing with his feet apart and his hands in his pockets.

Kent clenches his jaw and looks slowly between Ivan and Alden, rage festering in his stomach. As he does, every single one of his men puts a hand on the gun at their hip.

This was certainly not part of the plan. Alden was pushing the envelope here, letting Kent know that his allegiances have changed.

"Ivan," Kent says, taking what control he can. "So nice of you to come." The venom in his words lets everyone in the room know that he means precisely the opposite.

"It's time you two talked," Alden says as Ivan crosses the small room and takes a seat at the table. "There is two much bad blood between you, even though you should be in business."

"I have no bad blood with him," Kent says, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands in his pockets, looking purposefully at his captain to let him know to be ready in case this goes in the wrong direction. His captain gives Kent a subtle nod. "Bullshit," Ivan says, leaning back to casually rest his arm over the back of his chair. He fixing Kent with a confident stare. "I know you went the Warden, told him to take me out. Told him I'm to green to handle my trade."

Kent just blinks at Ivan, neither confirming nor denying. But inside, he's pissed. Someone leaked the information, and someone was going to pay for it.

if reading his mind, Ivan smirks at him. "Don't bother looking within your people for who spilled the news. The Warden told me himself," Ivan says, slowly leaning forward, looking Kent eagerly in the eye, "just before I cut his throat." Kent clenches his teeth, staring at this boy, this kid - who has the fucking gall -

God damnit. Kent works hard to control his anger in this moment, to let none of it pass over his face. He wasn't going to give these two anything.

But, it was a blow. He had worked hard to get the Warden on his side - had spent two months in jail to do it, damnit, had lost his vineyard in France to make that deal -

And out of it, he got nothing.

Alden and Ivan had teamed up, and with no Warden in his back pocket...

Kent suddenly realizes his extreme disadvantage in the world of organized crime. Unfortunately, Alden and Ivan were one step ahead of him, and had known of it days before he did - maybe weeks, even.

Kent stands then, in one swift and graceful movement. This meeting was over. He couldn't - wouldn't sit here and negotiate, not without knowing precisely where he stood in this world. He needed more information, now. "Leaving so soon?" Alden says, smiling up at Kent, pretending a concern that he certainly doesn't feel.

Kent doesn't answer, just nods to his men and heads for the door. They have to get out of here, before any more surprises reveal themselves.

"Kent," Ivan calls, just as Kent reaches the door. Against his better judgement, Kent turns to listen.

"Tell Fay I said hi," Ivan says with a smirk, and then a wink. "And that I'll be seeing her real soon."

Grinding his teeth, Kent turns and heads out the door, walking in the center of his men. As a group, they head directly for the front door.

As they walk through the main room, a flash of purple hair catches Kent's eye and he glances at one of the dancers who, uncharacteristically, has stopped dancing on one of the side stages.

"Lippert!" she calls after him, her voice shaking with anger. He ignores her and keeps going. "Lippert!" she says again, louder this time, trying to get his attention. "Where the fuck is my sister!?"

Kent glances at her this time as he walks, getting a better look, but he keeps walking as he does so, unwilling to check his pace. He recognizes her, though. Janeen Thompson, Fay's sister. He makes a mental note of it. The cars are still waiting where they left them, the drivers ready. Kent nods to his as he climbs into the passenger seat, letting him to know to head out. Fast.

As they roll away, Kent curses to himself under his breath, staring out the window at the passing city without really seeing it.

Ivan, with Fay's name on his lips. It made his blood boil.

She was the one card he had left to play, apparently. Alden had turned tail, switching his allegiances to this young kid after twenty-some years of allegiance to the Lippert family. And it severely messed with Kent's plans. The only thing he had keeping Alden from making a real move was Fay.

Kent had to keep her at all costs. If he didn't, he could lose everything.

 

Chapter 50

"Fay!" Kent yells the moment he walks into his house, storming down the hall.

His household staff freeze and then scatter when they sense that something is wrong. Kent is passively pleased by this - they, at least, know their place.

Still, Fay doesn't answer him. Kent calls for her again, heading up the steps at a brisk pace. When he arrives at her room he pushes open her door, not bothering to knock, ready to tell her to learn to come when she's called. But when he enters the room, she's not there.

The bed is mussed and scattered with books, pens, and paper - as if she had just been sitting there a moment ago. But where the hell is she?

Angry, he turns, ready to search the rest of the house. Unfortunately for her, a housekeeper is skittering past at just that moment.

"Where is she," Kent says, grabbing the woman by the arm, his voice harsh.

"Um," she says, looking up at him with fear in her eyes. "She left. A few hours ago."

Kent takes a step forward, glaring down at the woman. "Where did she go?"

The woman shakes her head frantically. "I don't know," she says, her voice going soft. "but she was wearing...those boots."

Kent lets the woman go, realizing belatedly that his anger here is misplaced. He doesn't say another word to her, just heads back down the stairs as the woman hurries down the hall towards the spare bedrooms. Kent bangs through the door to the kitchen, striding over to the table of older gentlemen.

"Who let her go," he demands, seeking answers.

The three men look up at Kent, their faces blank.

"What's going on here," one of the men says, leaning back in his chair, not frightened of Kent or the anger building within him. "Why are you taking this out on us?"

Kent just glares at him, not willing to tolerate this small talk. He just wants answers.

"She went to the barn," another one says, equally casual. "She loves that horse. You know she does."

"Who took her," Kent says, running low on patience. "She did not have permission to go."

"Well, no one told her that," the same man says, shrugging and turning back to his coffee. "The kid took her the young one. Jerome. They headed out a few hours ago."

Kent strides out of the kitchen then and through the door to the garage, grabbing a set of keys off the wall and heading for the last car in the row. He hardly ever takes the Bugatti, but - well. He wants to get there fast.

Twenty minutes later, Kent pulls into the drive of the stables. He's running mostly on rage right now, hardly thinking through his actions, instead concentrating his energies on figuring out his next steps.

He has so much he has to sort through. He has to organize reconnaissance to figure out where the other families stand in regards to Alden and Ivan, he has to figure out just how far Ivan has actually gone within the drug trade - whether he's taken down other bosses, or made alliances with them. Then, Kent has to take stock of his own position, his own forces - this could come to war, if he's not careful with it -

But at the heart of it all, the beating pulse that echoes through every problem is Fay, Fay, Fay.

He has to secure her, now. Physically, so that no one can take her from him - god, if someone took her, held her hostage...

Kent shakes his head, unwilling to think of it. But beyond that, he needs to secure Fay mentally and emotionally as well, securing her loyalties so that she doesn't betray him -

Because, god damnit, so much now depends on this girl -

Kent throws the car into park, stepping out and striding towards the stables.

The stable workers react in much the same way as his home staff did - getting out of his way as fast as they can and making themselves scarce, so that when Kent strides through the stable it looks like a ghost town. Only the horses are curious enough to peer at him over their stall doors.

When he gets to Heathcliff's stall, though, it's empty.

Which means only one thing.

Kent keeps going, passing quickly through the barn and heading for the training ring out back.

He sees her almost immediately, her flame-red hair flowing over her shoulders, seated on the beautiful red horse that he chose specifically because they were a match, a pair. Even as Kent strides forward, eager to interrupt, needing to talk to lock her down, he can't help but admire her progress.

Fay is going in slow circles around the ring, her horse trotting neatly as she raises and lowers herself in the saddle to match the horse's gait. Kent can see the smile and the joy on her face as she does it - a natural horsewoman, yes, but also someone who is seeing the results of her hard work.

As he nears, though, Kent frowns. He sees that her smiles seem to be continually directed to the center of the ring. Kent shifts his gaze, then, and is suddenly furious when he sees someone standing there in the middle of the ring, giving her directions. Not her trainer, but, instead, Jerome.

Kent increases his pace, fueled by his anger at that boy. What the hell is he doing in the ring with her - he isn't trained -

As Kent continues forward, he sees Jerome call to Fay. She slows the horse and, smiling, walks him to the center of the ring, where Jerome waits.

The smile on her face - coy, sweet, as she laughs and jokes with that kid - the f*****g kid he picked up to cover the most menial of the family's tasks - completely expendable -

And yet she's smiling at him, laughing down into his face, and he's -

Kent goes red when he sees it.

The boy first grasps the horse's reins, and then puts a hand out to rest on Fay's knee-

To slowly, leisurely stroke his fingers across her thigh, working his way upwards -

Fay glances at the touch, blushes, but doesn't push it away -

Kent rips open the gate to the riding arena, bursting through it.

Fay sees him first, her eyes going wide with shock and then her face going white when she sees the expression on his face, the fury in his eyes.

Jerome spins, reacting both to the sound of Kent's approach and to Fay's shock. He gasps, tearing his hand from its place on Fay's thigh and tucking it guiltily behind his back, his own eyes trained on Kent's raised fist -

Which, a second later, slams directly into Jerome's face, cracking across his jaw.

-

Fay screams, unable to stop her own fear and surprise, as Jerome stumbles and then falls back into the dry dirt of the arena -

Kent sneers down at the boy but then snaps his head up as he hears the horse screech, shying away in fear, his haunches bunching below him as he rears and then bolts, heading away from this violence, eager to get to the other side of the arena - or anywhere else Kent sees her face, then, and feels the horror within himself as she clings, first, to the horse's mane and then looses her balance, flying free of the saddle and through the air as the horse bolts -

She slams into the ground, face down, her heaped form laying still as Kent rushes forward.