Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 251

“How,” I whisper, frozen, staring up at Ivan. “How did you know…”

And then his face falls as I basically admit it – this thing that he’s thinking, that he’s figured out. And I can see that I’ve really, really hurt him.

“Fuck you, Fay,” Ivan whispers, his voice harsh with hate. “Fuck you for picking that old, dead man over me. He’s fucked, Fay,” he shakes his head now as he stares at me like his heart is broken. “And I told you that, and offered you everything. And you picked him anyway.”

And I reach out for him, desperately unhappy at his words – and to see him so hurt – and at first he swats my hand away but then –

Then Ivan grabs me.

And he wraps one hand around my waist, and buries the other in my hair, and pulls me against him, and kisses me like a drowning man. Like I’m the gasp of air he’ll ever breathe.

I’m completely surprised by it, and swept away, and confused –

But my body responds and I feel myself leaning into him as he wraps me closer against his chest, as he bends me backwards under the force of his emotions, kissing me like we’ve come to the end of a great thing.

And then he lets me go, almost all at once.

Just – drops me, his hands and his arms gone in an instant, so fast that I stumble back a few steps and Heathcliff shies a bit at my sudden movement. I put a hand out on the horse’s shoulder to steady myself, looking for Ivan.

But he’s already at the door of the stall, glaring back at me like he hates me now.

“Get out of the house, Fay,” he says, the words falling from his mouth like bricks. “Now. Immediately. Get out of the house this week, or…” he shakes his head and clenches his jaw suddenly, as if catching himself. But he hauls his gaze back up to mine for a brief second. “Or you’ll be dead, Fay,” he whispers. “With the rest of them.”

And I’m still staring after him, my mouth hanging open in shock, even after he’s gone.

A few minutes later Jerome comes back to the stall door, looking curiously over his shoulder. “He didn’t look to happy –“ he says, but his sentence is cut short when he sees my face. I haven’t moved, not at all, from my place next to Heathcliff.

“Fuck, Fay,” Jerome says, hurrying in to take me by the shoulders, his eyes darting over my face. “Are you all right? You’re white – seriously, it’s a cliché, but you’re as white as a sheet.”