Filed to story: Falling for My Ex's Mafia Dad Novel Free PDF (Fay Alden & Kent Lippert)
“No,” he orders, putting a commanding hand on my hip to stop me. “I want you right here, Fay.”
“What?” I ask, turning back to him, surprised. “You want me to…wait here? For you?”
“Yes,” he says, his expression hungry now. “I have some business to take care of, but the entire time I’m gone, I want to think of you here, in this bed. Waiting for me.”
“Oh,” I say, leaning back against the pillows and looking at him in surprise. But, despite that surprise, my traitorous little body betrays me, and I get a little bit wet at the thought of him wanting me the entire time he’s gone. “Um, okay…”
Kent nods, and then climbs out of the bed, striding over to a mirror against the wall to check his appearance. He begins to straighten his clothes, re-tucking his shirt into his pants.
“Um, Kent?” I ask. He glances at me in the mirror and nods, bruskly inviting me to ask my question. “What’s wrong? Is it…is it the war with the families?”
Kent glares at me a little in the mirror and doesn’t say a word, shaking his head and letting me know again that it’s not any of my business. I curl my back a little in disappointment, wanting to know but…
Well, if he won’t tell me. Then there’s nothing I can do. And with that expression on his face, I don’t think Kent wants to be pushed.
“Well,” I continue, “what am I supposed to…do all day? When you’re gone?” I ask, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees.
“You can do whatever you want, Fay,” Kent replies. He nods to the bedside table on the other side of the bed his side, apparently. “There are remotes there. You can watch TV. Or there are tablets in the drawers, if you want to look at the internet. Or,” he says, gesturing to the far wall by the windows, which has tall shelves covered in books. “You can read.”
“Where’s the TV?” I ask, curiously looking around the room and not seeing it. Kent casually points to a painting on the wall directly across from the bed and I blink, realizing that it’s digital, not oil on canvas. “Oh…cool,” I say, peering at it curiously. Kent nods, agreeing.
I sit for a moment longer while Kent grabs a brush off of a small table by the mirror and begins to comb his hair back.
“Um,” I say again, a little chill passing over me. “Kent, do you have anything I can wear? It’s…cold in here.”
Finished with his hair, Kent puts his brush down and begins to cross the room back to me, pointing to a door on the wall closest to me. “That’s the closet,” he says, coming close and sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. “There are some women’s clothes in there. Wear whatever you want.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. But then I realize, quite suddenly, that they’re Fiona’s clothes, leftovers from his last girlfriend. My stomach twists a little, jealous, at the thought.
“Really,” Kent replies. He reaches forward and I stare at him as he brushes my cheek with his fingers, taking another moment to simply look at me. Then he stands, striding back down the corridor to his office.
“I’ll have dinner sent!” Kent calls over his shoulder, but then I hear the creek of the office door, and then the click of its closure, and suddenly I’m alone.
Alone, in Kent Lippert’s bedroom. Half naked. Awaiting dinner.
“I have to call Janeen,” I murmur, shaking my head at myself. “She’s not going to believe this.”
I take a moment to simply stare around the room, taking it in without Kent around to distract me. It’s less sparse, I realize, than I had originally thought it’s just so big that the little nooks that Kent has created look minimal in comparison to the size of the place. For instance, on the other side of the mirror, there’s even a little fireplace with two wing-back chairs pulled up to it, perfect for reading on a cozy winter night.
I breathe peacefully as I look around at the little cavern that Kent has created for himself, more relaxed than I thought I’d be in his little refuge away from the world. It is at once…precisely what I would expect from him, and also so completely surprising. It’s incredibly lux, organized, and neat but also, who knew Kent had hobbies? There’s even a little chess board set next to one of the wingback chairs. And who knew he had so many books?
I find myself drawn to them and slip out of the bed, wandering over to the bookshelves, but then I blush as I realize that well, I’m still naked. I grab a throw blanket off the end of the bed, eager to cover up, but then I realize again that I’m alone. So, I awkwardly drop it on the floor and turn towards the closet, shivering a little. Kent keeps his room quite cold.
I move over to the closet and pull at both of the double doors at once, incredibly curious about what I’ll find. As I open them, the recessed lighting in the closet turns on, suffusing the space with a pretty golden glow.
I shouldn’t be surprised at the size of Kent’s personal closet Fiona showed me his other closet, after all, where he keeps his spare stuff and that’s two stories high. But still, I can’t help but gape a little as I realize that Kent’s personal, everyday closet is bigger than my bedroom. Then I scowl, realizing that he really was holding out on me all this time, giving me that little bedroom as if it was a gift when he has all this for himself.
Slowly, I walk around, looking at everything, running my hands over his pristine collection of fine wool suits and his perfectly shined shoes. I smirk a little, thinking that Kent is kind of a dandy…but…that I’d probably never be brave enough to say that to his face.
“He just likes to look good,” I murmur to myself, considering that he certainly accomplishes that goal with gusto. As I wander deeper into the closet I come on Kent’s accessories watches, chains, cufflinks, and I huff out a deep breath as I realize that I’m probably looking at hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff.
Unable to wrap my head around it, I hurry on and find myself suddenly looking at things that are much…softer. There are colors in this section of the closet that aren’t black, grey, brown, cream, or navy. Instead, there are baby blues and deep purples, soft pinks and rich yellow silk. My mouth falls open a little as I realize that these are the women’s clothes Kent mentioned. And there are so many of them, and they’re all so pretty.
I move forward, drawn by the variety and the vibrancy of the clothing, touching everything, sorting through it. And, as I pull out a soft pink velour sweatsuit that looks like it will feel like butter against my skin, I realize that…it’s my size.
I blink at this, surprised. Because Fiona she’s bigger than me in the places that it counts, particularly the breasts and hips, and taller. So then why was this…
And then I’m suddenly rifling through everything every piece of clothing in front of me, quickly shaking them out so I can read the sizes on the tags and then hastily dropping them to the ground at my feet. And as I pick up my twentieth item, I realize that everything here is my size, and that absolutely none of it matches Fiona’s taste. That, instead, it’s all precisely what I would wear. Or, precisely what Kent might like to see me wearing.
“Oh my god,” I say, looking around at the pile of clothes around me. “This is all for me…”
And then I sink down into the pile, looking around at it. When the hell had Kent stocked his closet for me?
I stay there on the floor of Kent’s closet for a long time, staring around at all of the stuff, thinking deeply about the significance of all of this. What did it mean that Kent made space for me in his room? What did it mean…that he left me here, with apparent free reign, to explore? I could, if I wanted, take all of those diamond watches and make a run for it. Run to the garage take a car go anywhere I wanted.
But suddenly, I realize…that there’s nowhere else I want to be.
My mind flicks suddenly to Ivan, playing devil’s advocate. Is that true, Fay? My mind asks me, unbidden. Is this really where you want to be?
But I wave my hand in the air, dismissing the thought, not letting myself go there. Because honestly, in this moment? It feels right.
And then I laugh at myself, realizing that it feels right to me to be sitting, in just a bra, on Kent’s closet carpet. And so I pull myself up and start to put the clothes away as neatly as I can, keeping the pink sweatsuit out for myself.
As I start to pull it on, though, my eyes fall on a set of drawers in the corner. Thin, shallow drawers, the sort of drawer that isn’t going to be holding much. Slowly, I wander over to them and my fingers hesitant slide the top one open.
I gasp, a little, at what I see. The drawer contains one, just one, complete set of lingerie. A lacy black bra and panty set with a slinky little garter belt and fine silk stockings. I blush as I consider it, thinking about what I’d look like with it on. Next to it is a polaroid of some shoes with a number on it. I glance to a set of boxes beside the drawer and my jaw drops open to realize that these are full outfits complete with footwear.
How Kent would react if he saw me in one of these when he comes back? I move through the rest of the drawers quickly then each set of lingerie different form the next, each a different mood, a different vibe. A veritable trove of sexual kinks stacked one on top of each other, each waiting to be experimented with.
I lean back a little and stare at the drawers, a finger tapping against my lip as I consider my options.
Deciding that none of the first seven drawers are right for me and honestly, feeling a little like picky little Goldilocks at this point saying “too hot” or “too cold,” I move to the eighth drawer.
My hands slow when I pull it open and see the silkiest little nightgown in gunmetal grey. I gasp a little, pulling it out by its spaghetti straps and holding it up. Unlike some of the other drawers which had…accessories…this little nightie sits by itself. There’s not even a shoe polaroid next to it, suggesting it should be worn barefoot.
Unable to stop myself, I quickly unclasp my bra and tuck it in the empty drawer, and then pull the nightgown on over my head, loving the way that it slides over my chest and comes to rest just at the top of my thighs. It’s simple but, somehow, just so incredibly chic.
I spin around in it, biting my lip and enjoying the slide of the silk against my skin, excited. My choice made, I quickly fold the little pink sweatsuit and tuck it neatly away before I leaving the closet and close the doors behind me.
Eager to get back to my first curiosity the books I move swiftly across the room to the fireplace, which is luckily electric. I flick it on, hoping to warm up a little, and then go to the first bookshelf.
To my chagrin, all of the books are turned spine-backwards. The result of this is aesthetically pleasing, but…damn it, I have no idea what the books are. So, frowning, I spend the next hour or so finding out what Kent is hiding here, pulling the books out one by one and looking them over. I making a little pile of those I want to read and put back those which are uninteresting to me, getting excited about my afternoon plans.
Overall, I have to admit that I’m…impressed by Kent’s collection. When I first saw the books, I assumed his decorator put them all here as part of the room’s design. But, as I flick through them, I realize that many of them have notes in the same tiny, neat handwriting. He has quite a variety here too some classics, some military strategy, some contemporary texts and some pieces of fiction of which I’ve never heard.
I have to admit, I didn’t think had it in him. I don’t think he’d strike anyone, ever, as a bookworm like me.
After I get through about a quarter of the shelves, I carry my little pile over to the fireplace and spend the next few hours reading, the little throw blanket tucked neatly around me. At some point food appears, but I only notice it because the smell of roast beef creeps across the room to me and I turned my head towards the scent, spying a little tray by a door in the corner of the room.
My mouth falls open how the hell did that get there? And then I blush to think that someone must have quietly brought it through another door, and they must have seen me sitting mostly naked in this nightgown lost in my book and decided to leave me alone. I sigh, bringing the tray over to my warm chair, deciding not to worry about it. And then I eat as I read, losing myself in a book of military strategy that by Kent’s frequent annotations he apparently liked as well.