Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad

Chapter 0016

I spend a restless night in my new room. When the clock reads 7:00, a knock comes at my door and it

opens without waiting for a response. I glare and make a mental note to somehow get a lock.

“Ah! You’re awake.” The same woman who dressed me last night bustles into the room. “You’re already

late, my dear.”

“Seven?” I ask, looking at the clock again. “Seven is late?”

“The household starts at five,” she says, coming over and starting to make the bed while I’m still in it.

When I head for the door in my pajamas, she makes a small noise of warning. I look back at her. “You’ll

want to change, my dear,” she says. “This house dresses for its meals.”

No one is downstairs in the hall when, dressed in tight fawn-colored pants and a silky green sweater, I

walk down the stairs. I hear some noise at the end of the hall and push through the little door there.

I blink in surprise as I suddenly find myself in a gigantic kitchen filled with people. There are

mismatched tables scattered all around and, behind a low wall, a restaurant-sized cooking range. From

it wafts the scent of breakfast foods – sharp with onions and rich with butter.

“Fay!” Daniel says, spotting me from across the room. His face lights up. I can’t help returning his

smile, he’s so cute.

“Hi,” I say, my eyes scanning the busy room as I hurry over to him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, giving me a happy grin and sitting back down in his place at a small table.

“Um,” I say - honestly, when was the last time I ate - but my stomach answers for me, giving a big

growl.

He laughs lightly as I sit. “Good, we’ll get you something.” He raises a hand to signal someone by the

cooking range. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

The room is just buzzing with people. Guys in suits drinking tiny cups of espresso, guards pass with

guns – big guns – passing through, housekeeping staff on their way to their jobs.

Everyone is chatting happily, moving along in what is clearly a well-oiled machine.

“Wow, it’s so busy in here,” I say, staring around at everyone.

Daniel looks around and shrugs. “I guess.”

At that moment, I’m shocked, again, to see Kent come around the corner from the cooking area

carrying a big plate of food. I stare at the long white butcher’s apron wrapped around his waist, the taut

strings only serving to emphasize his trim figure, his broad shoulders.

When I realize I’m biting my lower lip while I look at him, I quickly spit it out and close my mouth.

“Good morning, Fay,” Kent says, laying the plate in front of me. Shocked, I look back and forth from him

to the plate, noting that his apron is spotted with grease.

“Did you…did you make this?” I ask. On the plate, scrambled eggs sit next to sausage and peppers,

accompanied by a buttered slice of crusty Italian bread. It looks delicious.

“Surprised?” Kent says. I whip my head up to see that he’s smirking at me.

Truly, I am surprised.

“An Italian can’t call himself a man if he can’t cook his own breakfast,” Kent says, glancing around the

room with a proud smile. “A breakfast he’d feed his mother, at that.”

“Do you want some coffee?” Daniel asks, leaning forward. I nod and he looks up at his dad. “She takes

cappuccino. Is anyone free –“

“I’ll see it’s done,” Kent says and I follow his eyes to a gigantic vintage Gaggia Orione espresso

machine in the corner. My jaw drops – it’s probably the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Eat up, girl,” Kent says, heading back to the kitchen.

I pick up my fork and eagerly start to eat, shaking my head at Daniel who just laughs.

A few minutes later, when my plate is half cleared, Kent comes back with a tiny cappuccino that he

slides next to my plate. I give him a smile in thanks and take a sip.

It’s absolutely delicious. I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and savoring the taste of the bitter

liquid that coats my tongue, balanced by the sweetness of the milk. These flavors are complimented,

somehow, by…

I open my eyes and my mouth to ask what that extra flavor is, but I freeze when I see Kent staring

down at me, his eyes somehow…hungry.