Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad

Chapter 0013

His thoughts turn, then, to those moments in the club, when he had been fooling Dean into thinking Fay

was his plaything. Fooling himself, really. He had been hard as a rock, looking down at her supple form,

that soft curve of her breast after he snapped the strap of her dress –

Kent blinks, bringing himself back to the room, and finds Daniel looking at him strangely. Kent clears

his voice, keeping his face unreadable.

“She’ll be a good wife, son,” he says, patting his boy again on the shoulder. “You can’t do better, and

you could do worse. And it’s good you met outside of the arrangement – at least you two know you like

each other to begin with. That will make things…easier.”

Daniel shrugs, not meeting his eyes. This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

“What is it?” Kent demands.

“She’s just kind of…mad at me,” Daniel confesses. “We kind of had a fight. A big one.” He looks up at

the ceiling. “And now she’s upstairs. And we’re engaged.” He shrugs and shudders a little bit. “I don’t

know, it’s weird!”

Kent frowns at him, then, a little frustrated. “Pull it together, boy,” he says, his voice cold. “One day

you’ll have control of this family, and the least difficult thing you’ll have to control is that girl. Toughen

up, Daniel.”

Daniel straightens his shoulders, trying, but still doesn’t meet Kent’s eye. “What should I do? How do I

do it?”

“Teach her,” Kent explains. “She’s not part of this world, and if she’s going to survive in it, you’ve got to

teach her how to be a mafia wife. Her life is in your hands.”

Daniel meets his father’s eyes then, seeing the truth in his words. Kent is glad to see that he seems to

rise to the challenge. Perhaps this is what it will take to make Daniel a good man: the right woman.

Sensing some closure to the problem, Kent pats Daniel roughly on the shoulder again and gives him a

shove, dismissing him from his office. With a small smile, Daniel leaves.

Before the door closes behind him, Kent catches sight of Daniel looking up the stairs, considering a

visit with his bride-to-be.

Kent seats himself at his desk again, staring at the closed door, and suddenly feels…damnit.

He imagines, for a just a moment, what it would be like to climb those stairs himself, to open a girl like

Fay’s door while she’s getting ready for bed, taking off her earrings and turning to stare at him with

those wide blue eyes.

What it would be like to take two steps forward and grab her, pull her to him, make her gasp as he

wrapped a hand in the hair at the base of her scalp and pulled her head back, exposing that long white

neck.

To feel the moan echoing inside her chest, pressed against him, as he ground his hips against hers, the

proud length of his cock pressed between them.

He could show her, then, what it was to be a good wife. To become subservient, to learn how to

anticipate his needs, to make her will his own.

He could make a girl like Fay willingly give up her independence, serve him happily, if it meant that

every night she could peel off his shirt, pull his hot skin against her, take him, throbbing, inside of her –

Kent snaps his head to the side, pressing his eyes closed, forcing himself – forcing himself - to stop

thinking these thoughts. That was going to be his son’s wife, after all.

But damnit, thinking about her has made him so hard.

Kent reaches for the phone on his desk, picking it up and quickly dialing.

The person on the other end answers in one ring. “Hey baby,” she purrs. “I’ve been missing you.”

“Fiona,” he says, working to keep his voice even. “I’d like to see you at my place. Half an hour.”

She giggles on the other end. “Ohhhh, he’s in a rush. I’ll be there pronto, baby.” Another little giggle

and she hangs up.

Kent stares at the phone in the hand knowing, in the pit of him, that Fiona is at best a temporary fix.

He has a deeper hunger growing inside.