Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Gifts

Chapter 14 – Meeting my Mafia Dad–1

The party is, above all, impressive. Drinks are flowing, a whole twelve–piece band is at the back of the room playing hits from the fifties and sixties. Everyone is having a good time and, thank god, mostly ignoring me.

Even though it’s technically my party, everyone’s too caught up in their own business to do much more than send me a curious glance.

I’m grateful for Daniel, who sticks close by my side. Even though he was raised in this environment, I can tell he’s more comfortable with me, sneaking sips of his champagne and making wry comments that only I can hear.

I can’t help but laugh at the things he says. He’s right – we always did get along.

Fiona sweeps around the room, looking almost indecently sexy in her black Versace gown. Looking around, though, I can see that she has competition for her daring choice of clothes. This group of mob bosses and wives do tend towards the sexy.

There are lot of women’s bodies on display around me, many of them enhanced with plumped lips, breasts, asses. Whatever they felt was lacking.

In comparison, I look demure in my sweeping blue gown. But Fiona picked well – if she had put me in something that showed

I smile up at him, pleased by his compliment. I knew he wouldn’t say it unless he meant it.

We both watch as Fiona greets new guests, directing servants to take their fur coats and ensuring that they have drinks in their hands within half a minute.

“She’s really the hostess here,” I say, fascinated. “What would your dad do without her?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says, studying her. “She’s definitely taken up that wifey sort of roll.” He shrugs. “But who knows, my dad is fickle. One wrong move and she could be out the door.”

I look up at him, wondering if that’s why he keeps his distance from her, emotionally. How many mother figures has Daniel had in his life who have disappeared in the night, never to be seen again?

Beyond that, where is his real mom? I frown, making a mental note to ask some other time.

Daniel gives me a smile and then clinks my empty champagne glass with his. “Refill?” he asks.

I give him a nod and he heads off to the bar. I tap my foot to the music, enjoying it while I look around at all of the guests. Is my father here yet? Will I even recognize him when he arrives?

A voice rumbles, shockingly close to my ear. “If you like the music,” it says, sending shivers down my spine, “why don’t you dance?”

He stares baldly down into my face, his own only inches away. My heartbeat ratchets up.

“Um,” I say, working to calm myself. God, why does he always get me so worked up, just by standing next to me? “I’m not much of a dancer.”

He smirks, his eyes traveling over my body, taking in the way I look in this too–gorgeous gown. “Shame,” he says. “That dress was made for dancing. You should let them see you in it.”

I blush. That was breathlessly close to a compliment for Kent

Lippert.

even closer to murmur a secret in my ear.

—

up at him. “You – you knew my mother?”

his voice wandering with memory as he

him, suddenly terribly sad to

that.

B

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Gifts

—

– Meeting my

Dad–2

gaze away, scanning the crowd. “I have word from your father’s people,” he says. “He’ll be

mean, of course it was the whole point of the evening, but

I’m terrified.

up, girl,” he says,

trying to embody that. But

when he sees who I’m talking to. When Kent catches sight of him, he nods. “Good,” Kent says, beckoning

to me, his father holds out a black velvet box to him. Frowning with confusion, Daniel

jaw drops when Lsoo the

diamond sitting

box to him. It’s

takes the box, lifting the ring from it. He looks at me and cocks his head to the side. My fingers shaking a little, I raise my hand. As Daniel takes it

tacit agreement to the engagement? Or some sort of ploy for when I meet my father? Is Kent trying to mark me

are interrupted, though, by the feeling of the ring sticking at my second knuckle.

but it won’t

looking between us. “I think it’s too

bite my lip, embarrassed. I guess Daniel’s mom had slimmer fingers than me.

my hand in his own. Deftly, he angles the ring so that it slips over the knuckle, and then presses down. I look up into his eyes

as I feel my cold hand in his warm one, the weight of his ring on my finger.

his lips parting slightly,

takes my hand out of his father’s grip, holding it gently in his own. He gives his dad a weird look and then turns his attention to the ring.

says, looking me in the face and smiling.

little, trying to smile back, and then focusing on the ring.

It’s beautiful, but…

goes quiet, the band dying awkwardly off as they notice that everyone has stopped dancing and

walks in, a woman in a slinky grey dress only a few steps behind. Following her are at least

count.

–