Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father - Chapter 207
Chapter 207
A hand on my shoulder shakes me awake and I jump, gasping a little
Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father
bit as my head spins to see Kent’s
guard sitting next to me in the back seat of the SUV.
“Sorry,” he says, tentative and pulling away. “I didn’t mean to
scare you
we’re just…home.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised, turning to see that we are indeed pulling around to the front of Kent’s
house. “Oh, wow,” I murmur, turning back to the guard. “I was really out of it, wasn’t it?”
He gives me a little smile and a shrug. “Only minor snoring.
Minimal drool” he quips making
Chapter 207
me laugh.
I narrow my eyes at him a little, working to remember. “Marco… right?” I hazard, and am rewarded with
a wide grin on his face.
“You got it, miss,” he says, giving me a nod as the car pulls to a stop out front.
“Well, thanks, Marco,” I say, giving him a little smile. “For spending the night keeping me safe, and also
waking me up before Kent found me slumped and
snoring in the back of his car.”
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Marco laughs, shaking his head and leaning over me to pop my door open. “Any time, miss,” he replies
warmly. As I climb out of the car I realize that I’m starting to learn the ways of Kent’s house more than I
thought I was – I’m learning names, patterns. It feels… nice, I think, as the driver – Gianni
comes around the car and
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lifts my little suitcase out of the trunk. I smile at him as I accept it, pleased when he grins at me in
return, and then I turn towards the front of the house.
I stop when I see him standing there, my breath stolen from me
Chapter 207
a little bit. First because…well,
because he looks really good, standing there, clean–shaven in the morning light, already dressed in his
finely tailored suit. But second because he looks mad.
I sigh, glancing between Gianni and Marco, who don’t meet my eyes under his gaze. What the hell did I
do this time?
I reach down to grab the top handle of my suitcase, carrying it with me as I climb the steps towards
Kent. He watches me
come towards him, his arms
folded, his face…unreadable.
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Should I…hug him?
I laugh a little bit, despite myself, at that impulse. Nothing about Kent right now – his size, his
stance, the power radiating off of him, the severe look he’s giving me – none of that says “hug
me,” not at all.
Surprisingly, though, his face softens when he hears my little laugh. “What?” he asks, dropping
his hands to his waist and turning his head to the side, just a little bit. “What’s funny?”
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“Nothing, Kent,” I say, shrugging. “It’s just…really early to get glared at that intensely. Can a girl
get a cup of coffee first?”
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