Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 3

I hesitate, settling down in my chair across from this man, sensing that I’m the doe to his wolf. It feels almost as if he could leap across this table at any moment and gobble me up.

Daniel’s father is Kent Lippert, the Mafia King of our city. That’s why he has a bodyguard, that’s why he has so much money –

I quirk my head to the side, still staring at Lippert, realizing that this is also why Daniel is hiding his sexuality – the mafia of our city are notoriously conservative, and family is everything. A gay son would never be accepted, especially an only son –

God, he really did want me to be his beard –

Poor Daniel, he’s got to hide everything he loves –

Suddenly, I realize that the man in front of me is smiling, just slightly, his eyes moving over me as I stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

I clench my jaw, reminding myself that he is the villain.

“So,” I say, turning back to my papers, nervous. You’ve done this a thousand times, Fay! I remind myself. You could do this in your sleep! “Can you please state your name for me, and place of birth?”

“I believe,” Lippert says slowly, “That you’re already aware of my history.” He leans back, studying me.

I lift my eyes to glare at his impudence – he’s so rude. But, unfortunately, he’s right. Everyone in this city knows this information. I quickly fill out the form.

I glance up at him, struck again by his similarity to Daniel. The profile, especially, is almost exactly the same – but whereas Daniel is gentle, refined, Kent has a grim, lethal quality to his face.

I drag my gaze away from him, feeling a shiver pass through me, tapping its fingers down my spine. Somehow, I imagine that they’re Kent’s fingers…

I quickly dismiss the thought and focus.

“The rest of the questions that I ask you today will be of a personal and psychological nature,” I say, giving the canned speech I’m required to say to all inmates. “The state does require that you answer all questions fully and honestly as part of the assessment. Do you understand?”

He is silent in response and I look up at him, a knee-jerk reaction to an unresponsive patient. He’s smirking at me, unblinking. “Little girl,” he says, slowly leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “what gives you the right to ask me anything about my history and my mind?”

I sit straight in my chair, unnerved by such a question. “The state has hired me to administer these examinations –“

“Do you have a degree?” he cuts in. “Some kind of…certificate?” The final word is heavy with derision.

I frown at him and reach down to rifle through my bag, producing the certified paperwork from the state which qualifies me for this position. “Here,” I say, returning his glare. “If you’re so curious.” I reach across the table to hand it to him.

A second before he grabs my wrist, I realize my mistake. He snatches my hand, fully capturing it in his, pulling me forward against the table. It doesn’t quite hurt, but, surprised, I drop the paperwork as I gasp, looking up at him, terrified as he brings my hand close to his face, and then –

Oh my god –

Slowly, indulgently, he runs his nose across the ivory skin of my wrist. “Camomile, lavender,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, indulging in my scent. “So fresh and clean,” he says. Then he opens his eyes and stares into my bewildered face, wanting to see my reaction as he says, “you must be a virgin.”

My lip trembles in shock, in awe. His eyes eat me up, savoring the tremble of my lips, my wide, terrified eyes.

A guard flies through the door “Hands off!” he yells, but Kent has already released my wrist, raising his hands over his head, perfectly calm.

“Sorry,” he says, smirking, his eyes on me. “Won’t happen again.”