Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad novel Chapter 121

“Coward,” I hiss, cursing myself as I hurry up the stairs. Damn it, at the first trial of this new, powerful me I totally collapsed. I dart into my room, pressing the door closed and taking a deep breath, closing my eyes as I steel myself.

I know that I owe Daniel more than that. But damn it, Janeen and I didn’t plan what I was going to say to him, and he caught me by surprise. But I could do it – I figure out the best way to break it to him that I was leaving him for his dad –

“Oh my god,” I mutter, flying open. God damn it, but this was so ridiculous.

I move across the room then, opening the bottle of wine and pouring myself a big glass. This was Janeen’s advice too – a drink for courage, but not so much that I get sloppy. There was, apparently, a fine balance. But I drink the glass of wine quickly, my hands shaking a little as I glance towards the door.

I don’t know if I’m going to be able to find that balance tonight.

I pull a new phone out of my back pocket – one that Janeen gave me this afternoon, one of her “burners,” she called it, that she usually uses to text her married clients from the club who want a little more anonymity.

Kent took away my phone when I first got here, but things are different now. I’m not his son’s fiancé who needs protection anymore. I work for him now – not just as his girlfriend, but as his spy. And as such, I’m entitled to certain freedoms. Like texting my sister whenever I want.

I send her a quick text now, hoping she can give me a little courage. My stomach is all tied in knots.

Fay: Here now – part one of the plan went just as we want it to! Now, just sitting in my room waiting for him to respond??

A few seconds later, her reply beeps through.

Janeen: You’ve got this, little sis! Remember – it’s about what you want. Don’t let him pressure you into moving faster than you want to. Make him wait.

I nod to myself, bolstered by her words. That’s right. It’s about me now. And I may have agreed to be his – his mistress –

God, I’ve got to stop getting nauseous when I think that word -

But he does not have any right to make me feel –

The message is very simple.

Put this on with your black Prada pumps. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

I cover my mouth in shock, shaking my head back and forth as I read it again and again.

Fifteen minutes?

And then what?