Filed To Story: Falling for My Ex's Mafia Dad Novel Free PDF (Fay Alden & Kent Lippert)
As I reach the hallway below, I realize that this place doesn’t hold any terror for me anymore. My experiences yesterday got rid of those, replacing them with…well, with a little tremor of excitement that pulses through me.
I consider this, for a moment consider whether that’s healthy, really. Honestly, a girl like me should have a healthy fear of the mob boss’s torture chamber basement. I was still naïve and new to this world there was still so much danger here for me, and yet here I was, walking through without a care.
Really, seriously, who was I anymore?
As I come to the end of the hallway and push through the door into the archives room, I realize that a big part of me…doesn’t really care about the changes that I’m going through. That I like myself like this this bold, somewhat careless new Fay.
Maybe this new version of me was just some kind of trauma response to what happened yesterday? But, I shrug as I stand in the middle of the room. Whatever. It’s better than being terrified all the time.
I take a minute to look over the stacks of porn sitting in the corner, but then I shake my head, deciding against it. I am definitely curious especially knowing that some of it is Kent’s homemade stuff but…no. Not today.
Instead, I move to the opposite side of the room, to where the photo books are. Some of them are very old a hundred years or more, even. The academic historian in me wants to explore those early photographs, but instead I reach for the newer bindings further down, hoping for some information about Daniel and his upbringing.
I take a few volumes over to the little chair, flipping through.
I smile, recognizing Daniel’s face in a few of the first photos, but then frown when I realize that they’re too old grainy old photos, with fashion from the 1980s…
I blink, shocked, realizing that these must be pictures of Kent when he was a child. Fascinated, I flip through, looking at the people who must have been his mother and father, his family. I quickly flip to the front of the book where I’m lucky enough to find a picture of a beautiful, dark-haired woman, who is happily caressing her pregnant belly.
This, I’m sure, must be Kent’s mother. I study her face for a resemblance to her but frown when I can’t find it. Kent’s looks, like Daniel’s, must likewise come from his father.
Hoping for pictures of Daniel as a child, I put this album down and pick up the next one. I’m shocked, when I flip it open, to see that it’s actually Kent’s wedding album.
Slowly, I flip through the photos black and white, surprisingly and take in all the details of their beautiful Italian wedding. It looks terribly romantic, situated at a beautiful vineyard, the couple’s private table set up under a wide-branching olive tree.
There is a photograph, right at the beginning, of the beautiful bride, her stunning face quite serious as she looks directly into the camera. Her dress is long, lace, and clinging the opposite of the one that I had chosen for my own wedding.
Or, well. The one Kent had chosen for me. I wonder, passingly, if it was an intentional choice, remembering that none of the dresses selected for me looked anything like this.
I return my eyes to her face again, her hair tightly pulled back so as not to distract from her severe expression as she raises her chin and looks proudly at the camera.
I find myself quite moved by her, curious about this noble and, am I imagining it? A bit melancholy? mafia bride.
My thoughts are interrupted, though, by a single word that makes me jump almost out of my seat.
“Fay.” Kent’s tone is serious and disapproving as I raise my eyes to see him standing at the door, his feet set wide apart, hands in his pockets as he frowns at me. “I told you not to come down here.”
I close the photo album languidly, holding his gaze. “Well, you wouldn’t take me to the stable. I got bored.” I shrug a little. “You can’t expect a girl to stay in her room all day, can you?”
He glares at me, and a little smile tugs at my lips as I hear a rumble growing in his chest.
God, but I do love to piss him off.
“Fay,” Kent says, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to rein in his temper. That little muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow. “You’re not to come down to the basement. I was clear about this.”
I give him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can push it. “But it’s so interesting down here,” I say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. “For instance,” I say, my voice light, “I had no idea you’d consent to get married in just a linen shirt no suit coat even very bohemian of you ”
Kent takes two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then, he glances down at it, as if surprised.
We’re both silent for a moment while he stares at the photo album. “I haven’t looked at this in…years…” he says quietly, surprised into a moment of reverence.
I consider him, glad to have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while he’s not glaring at me. His face is lined with years of worry perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know, but…well, I wonder if he carries more than he needs to.
For instance, did he really need to come down here to yell at me for looking through photo albums? What harm, really, was I doing?
And what joy does Kent really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant need for control, that consumes his time? The worry and need for control that, indeed, results in his panic attacks?
My eyes flick back to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps an answer there.
“Did you love her?”
I blush when I hear myself ask it. Again, my mouth has run away with me speaking my thoughts before I consider whether it’s wise.
Kent raises his eyes suddenly, that glare focused on me again. He doesn’t answer my question, just tosses the album back onto the shelf as if it doesn’t matter to him. But I saw his face a moment ago I know he’s performing a nonchalance he doesn’t feel.
I lean back into the chair, still studying him, feeling as if I’ve just figured out a little piece of the Kent puzzle. I smile a little again, pleased.
Which, of course, ticks him off.
“I’m serious, Fay,” Kent says, his voice low and serious. “There are rules in this house, and they’re in place for a reason.” He folds his arms and glares down at me. “If you do not obey them, you will be punished ”
“What,” I say, narrowing my eyes into a glare of my own, my own temper a little riled at this renewed threat. “What, Kent. If I disobey, what are you going to do, chain me to the table in your little torture chamber? Again?” I roll my eyes. “We already did that this week.”
Kent opens his mouth to say something scold me, probably but I just sigh and press my hands against the arms of the chair, pushing myself up. “Fine,” I say, looking at him with exhaustion on my face. “I’ll go upstairs.”
I walk past him towards the door but he stops me, calling my name. “Fay,” he says, half turning to look at me.
I stop in the doorway and wait.
“There are rules in this house. I will not have them broken.” Kent holds my gaze steadily. “You can play your little game of defiance all you like, but ultimately?” He stares at me, cold. “I will win. Every time.”
A little thrill builds in the bottom of my stomach as I think of the possibility of those challenges, of pushing him, trying him pushing myself, at that. I’m so interested in this new Fay that I’m seeing develop within me as a result of our interactions.
Part of me wants to get to know her more. But the other part? The true Fay, who I’ve been my entire life? She just wants to live in peace.
“I’ll follow your rules, Kent,” I say quietly, keeping my face blank. “But in exchange, I will be treated with respect in this house.”
He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him, holding up a finger.
“And,” I say, continuing my small list of demands. “I’m not going to be held here like a little caged pet. I understand that you have to keep me safe, but I can’t spend my whole life sitting in my room upstairs.”
My face softens then, betraying, I think, a little of the misery that I sometimes feel in his home. “I’m a whole person, Kent,” I say softly. “A real person. I need to have a little bit of freedom. A little bit of a life.”
He stares at me for a moment, considering, and then gives me a small nod.
I nod as well and then turn, heading out the door and down the long basement hallway towards the steps. Just as I reach the bottom, I hear him call my name again.
I turn to see Kent standing at the door to the little records room, considering me carefully. I raise an eyebrow, curious about what he could want.
“Go and get dressed,” he says, his voice even. “I can’t take you to the stables, but I’ll send someone else with you.”
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.