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Chapter 226

Chapter 0226

Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad

Jerome is actually a big help, prepping the gorgeous green dress and shoes that were left on my bed for me, and then picking

out some jewelry to match, as I apply my makeup as fast as I can and quickly unbraid my hair and pin it on top of my head. We

manage, somehow, to get me fully ready in under five minutes.

“Wow,” I say, as I push an earing through my lobe and simultaneously slide my foot into the shoe that Jerome, kneeling on the

floor, holds steady for me. “If you ever decide to quit being a low-level mafia lackey, you certainly have a career as like, one of

those people who helps people get changed fast between scenes in a play —*

“I know,” Jerome says, smirking at me as he stands up. “I grew up helping the ladies at my mom’s strip club make quick changes

between their acts.”

“Really?” I ask, my eyes going wide.

“A story for another time, Fay!” Jerome laughs, putting a warm hand on my shoulder and pushing me gently towards the door,

grabbing my little purse off the bed and shoving it into my hand. As I move towards the top of the stairs though, Jerome makes to

disappear in the other direction down the hall.

“Where —“ I start to ask, but he just shakes his head at me.

“Fay,” he whispers. “You just brought me into your bedroom. And got changed. And only one of those people down there knows

that I’m not into this —“ he says, waving a hand up and down in my direction to encapsulate my whole being. “So, yeah. I’m

disappearing.”

I go a little pale as I realize what he’s saying and I grimace, realizing that I have to come up with some clever explanations later.

But I take a deep breath, steeling myself and trying to be as cool and nonchalant as I can as I start down the steps.

“So sorry,” I call to the group still waiting below. “Shall we go? I would hate to miss the reservation.”

Daniel grins at me again, laughing a little, while Natalia glares. When I reach the bottom of the stairs my fiancé offers me his arm

and then, as a group, we set off.

Honestly, I don’t know why everyone was all upset. It’s not as if the restaurant gave away our table. Instead, the hostess beams

at us and sweeps us through the restaurant to a semi-private balcony up a small flight of stairs that overlooks the rest of the

restaurant. It’s the perfect spot — close enough to participate in the chic, busy ambiance of the place but separate enough from it

to not be overheard in private conversation.

Our table is small and round, intimately sized for the five of us so that when Daniel seats himself next to me I find that our knees

touch under the table. We're all pressed close, family-style, so that we could whisper across the table if we wanted and all still be

included in the conversation.

As we sit I wonder, for the first time actually, what the hell we’re all doing here at this fancy dinner dressed in evening gowns and

tuxedos. A little knot of anxiety forms in the pit of me as I look around at Daniel on my left, Kent pressed close on my right, and

then Natalia, and then Alessi in the final seat between Daniel and Natalia.

Who called this dinner? And what do they have planned?

Unfortunately, no one fills me in, and

so I merely go along wi it letting!

ever one see RsoNife conversation

ahd listening carefully, hoping to

figure it out as we go. Please read the

original content at .

The food, predictably, is delicious. I

figure out quickly that this is a French

restaurant tha epts@heseating a

rjont, auggesting that we'll be having

the kind of long, wine-soaked,

sumptuous dinner that I'd usually be

thrilled to experience. Please read the

original content at .

As our first course is served, I’m interested to see that Natalia steers the conversation towards memories.

“Kent,” she says, turning her beautiful

face towards him as she spreads

pate de foie gras on a piece fom

baguette 149 yourehse ef that

sutinse hat you, and I, and Lenai

skipped church and took the train to

France, and didn’t tell anyone, and

were away for days? God, we were

such children then — what were we,

sixteen?” Please read the original

content at .

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