Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father by Caroline Above Story

Chapter 35



Chapter 35 

The next morning, Kent is working in his office when a knock 

comes at the door. 

“Come in,” he calls, hardly paying attention. 

The door creeks open but no one says anything. Annoyed, Kent looks up, ready to tell whatever captain or guard was coming to report to get on with it and stop wasting his time. 

To his surprise, though, Fay stands in the doorway. Kent leans back in his chair with a smirk, curious. What on earth could she 

want now? 

“Yes?” he asks. 

“Um, can I come in?” she says, anxiously playing with her hair. 

“I already told you to come in, Fay,” he says evenly. Annoyed, 

she drops her hair and takes two steps into the room, pushing the 

door closed behind her. Then, she leans against the wall, a little 

afraid. 

Like a kitten in a tiger’s cage. Kent can’t help but smile at the sight. 

of her. 

Today she’s wearing brown riding boots over tight jeans, a green 

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cashmere sweater on top. The green brings out the cream of her 

complexion, the fire of her hair. As he knew it would. 

He’d selected the sweater for precisely that reason, had it sent up 

to her room with the housekeeper. 

She starts to play with her hair again, and Kent decides that he 

likes it down better than up. He makes a mental note to tell the 

housekeeper to leave it down more often. 

“Yesss…?” Kent prompts, impatient. 

“I just wanted to talk. About last night.” She hesitates again. “Is it 

safe to talk in here? About…” 

He sighs and gives her a little glare. “Yes, Fay. Go ahead.” 

I just wanted to offer, again, to help. In whatever way I can. I’m happy to offer my services.” 

“Your…services,” he says, letting his eyes rove over her body as much as they want to, deliberately trying to be lewd. If he embarrasses her, she’ll give up, he thinks. As she’s done before. 

She blushes deliciously – he feels a stirring within himself, watching her squirm- and then stands up straight. 

“You know what I mean, Kent,” she says. “I could council you, offer some therapies.” 

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“I don’t need those,” he says, looking back to the papers on the desk as if they’re more interesting and important. 

“We could just try,” she says, frustrated. He smiles and looks back at her, liking the fire he sees in her when she gets pissed off. God, 

but he loves to stir that fire. 

“Why are you pushing so hard for this,” he asks, leaning back in his chair, studying her. He’s genuinely curious. Is she trying to get one over on him, use her new knowledge to her advantage? 

She shrugs. “I just want to help – that’s why I got into counseling to begin with. I like to…help people.” 

“Well that’s nice, Fay, but I don’t need help,” he says, perfectly 

calm. 

— 

“And maybe” she continues, her voice rushing now. “If I were able to help you to give you something – maybe…maybe you’d respect me more. Stop belittling me,” she says, frustrated, looking 

back down at the floor. 

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