Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father novel Chapter 347

“I can’t believe you got me a job,” Daniel grumbles from the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares out the window.

“’Bout time,” Jerome murmurs as he drives, smirking as he keeps his eyes on the road.

Daniel makes a squeak of protest as he turns to glare at his boyfriend, but Jerome just laughs. “Seriously, Danny,” he says, shaking his head, “you’ve never had a job in your life. Pay your dues! Especially as it doesn’t sound like Donna Lippert back there,” he says, pointing at me with a thumb over his shoulder, “intends for you to do it forever.”

“Just for a little bit, Daniel,” I say, looking up from my phone for just a second to see him glaring at me, “until we get the information we need.”

“And what information,” Daniel snaps, “do we need? So I can get it and get out of there as fast as possible.”

“I don’t know yet,” I sigh, content. “I’ll know it when I hear it.”

Daniel grumbles more and Jerome laughs at him.

“You know this is your fault, Jerome,” I call to him, tucking my phone back into my purse and smiling as I stir the pot.

“What!?” he gasps, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “What the hell did I do?”

“You pamper Daniel,” I say, grinning and settling back against the leather of my own seat. “You take him to the beach all day, and carry his bag, and make it so he never wants to do a day of work in his whole life, because he just wants to hang out with you –“

“Um, I did not start this pattern, Fay,” Jerome corrects, “it’s your baby daddy that let him go to college for eternity, majoring in end-of-the-road degrees like English and Philosophy and Archaeology.”

“True,” I say with a sigh. “Though I’d like to see you accuse Kent of it to his face.”

“I would,” Jerome says, assured. “As long as he was…still behind bars.”

We all laugh at that, Daniel shaking his head and not really denying that he’s been a bit of a spoiled rich boy his whole life. But neither Jerome nor I really hold it against him – though we are willing to tease him about it. We like Daniel just the way he is, and I know Jerome in particular likes to dote on him. It’s part of why they work.

Daniel, I suspect, pays Jerome back in his own way.

But before I can decide whether I even want to consider what those methods of payback are – he is my husband, after all – I sit up straight when we turn the corner onto our street and I see a familiar car in the driveway.

“No way,” Jerome murmurs, slowing down and shaking his head.