Chapter 89

Kent climbs out of the second of three cars that take him and his captains to the meeting. He has shown up in force today, his overblown security force a deliberate message to Alden. Kent is done being pushed around and will rally his superior forces to stop it, if necessary.

Climbing the short few steps into the strip club, Kent remembers the last time he was here. When he had followed Fay into the Champagne Room, saw that pig of a man pressing her up against the cocktail table, ready to do as he pleased with her.

That moment had set his blood on fire. He had acted mostly on instinct that night, thinking he was helping a pretty young girl who didn’t deserve to be wrapped up in Dean’s particular brand of sexual depravity.

Little did he know what a diamond he’d found in this rough space.

Kent and his crew enter, heading directly for the back of the club, ignoring the pounding music and the dancers lighting up the stage. Instead, Kent’s crew works their way towards a back door where one of Kent’s security detail is already waiting.

The security agent nods to Kent, letting him know all is well, so Kent pushes through the door.

Alden is there already, waiting, as Kent knew he would be. Kent had delayed deliberately, had let the man wait.

“Lippert,” Alden says, tapping his fingers against the low coffee table set in front of him that has a spread of food and drinks already laid upon it. The room was nice, for a strip joint – the nicest they had. Leather seating ranges around the room with purple and chrome accents.

Alden has brought his own small crew – certainly fewer than Kent’s numbers. They look around anxiously as Kent’s people fill the room.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Kent says, still standing, looking down at Alden. Letting him know precisely his place in the relationship.

Alden sneers at Kent, just a little, his lip twitching with displeasure. He understands everything Kent’s late arrival, his increased forces, and condescending manner are trying to say to him. And he doesn’t appreciate it.

“Sit down, Kent,” Alden says, leaning back on his chair and pretending a casual attitude he doesn’t actually feel. “You called this meeting, pulled me out to this rat’s den in the middle of the day. What is it you want to say.”

Kent does sit, one of his captains pulling over a chair for him.

“I want to know what you’re playing at,” Kent says carefully, leaning forward so an elbow rests on his knee. “I want to know why you’re hosting parties at which your daughter is having intimate chats with Ivan.”

“Intimate chats,” Alden says, laughing lightly, trying to play it off. “It was just a little barbeque at the beach – they ended up sitting next to each other, by chance. These young attractive people – you know how they always seem to find each other.”

Fall For My Ex's Mafia Father Chapter 0088 Kent says nothing, simply narrowing his eyes at Alden. Letting him know he doesn’t buy it.

Alden just shrugs, leaning back against his seat. “She’s a beautiful girl, my Fay. Young men want to talk to her. I can’t help that.”

Kent carefully notes the possessive in Alden’s sentence. His Fay. Kent rankles at the ownership there, but doesn’t let it show on his face.

“What was Ivan even doing at your barbeque, Alden?” Kent asks, leaning further forward and putting on the pressure. “The last time we talked, you told me that he was responsible for the attempt on my life at that party you threw to introduce Fay to your family.”

“A misunderstanding,” Alden says lightly, waving a hand to dismiss it. “Ivan spoke to me, after he realized that the evidence was pointing towards him.

Assured me, in no uncertain terms, that he had nothing to do with it.”

“And you never thought to share that information with me?” Kent asks, turning his head to the side, his question taking on the edge of a threat.

“Though surely you would have known that I would be interested.”

Alden just shrugs, leaning casually forward and taking a chicken wing from a platter on the table. He takes a nibble of it before responding. “Well, Ivan told me that he wanted to tell you himself. Assure you in the same certain terms.”

As if on cue, the door opens again, a young man pushing through. Unlike Kent and Alden, he’s totally alone. He’s dressed well, though he prefers designer sweatsuits to the traditional suit. He wears them exclusively in shades of black and grey, to compliment his monochrome tattoos.

“Sorry, if I’m late,” Ivan says, smirking at Kent, standing with his feet apart and his hands in his pockets.