Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad novel Chapter 18

Fiona finishes saying good morning to Kent and stops at our little table on the way out.

“This beauty must be Fay,” she says as she arrives, giving me a big smile.

She has a thick New York accent, a little like Fran Drescher, and I can’t help but be charmed by her sweet, brusk nature.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“Oh baby,” she says, wrinkling her nose at me. “I already know all about you. Big Boy over there told me everything,” she says, nodding at him over her shoulder.

I blush again. Big Boy?

Seriously?

What woman has the balls to call Kent Lippert Big Boy?

I laugh despite myself. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” she replies. “I’ll catch you two babies later,” she says, swooping down to give Daniel a kiss on the cheek as she goes. “And you,” she points a manicured nail at me, “you’re going shopping with me later, okay? Okay.”

She leaves without waiting for a response.

I watch her as she goes, a little jealous of her confidence as well as her raw sensuality. Fiona is the kind of buxom beauty who I imagine thrives in a world like this.

I look down at myself, feeling like a flat piece of plain white paper beside her.

“Sorry about that,” Daniel says, his voice a little frustrated.

“Why?” I look up at him, surprised.

“It’s just embarrassing, to have them around,” he whispers, leaning forward so that only I hear him. “My dad could fill every room in this house with his lovers, if he wanted to,” he says. “Although Fiona is…a favorite.”

I nod, understanding. “I can see why. She’s so beautiful.”

I bite my lip as I hurry behind her. “Shopping? I really don’t think Kent’s going to let me leave the house.”

She gives me a wink as we arrive at a set of double doors close to the garages. “That’s the great thing about this place, we don’t have to leave. The shopping come to us.”

With that, she pushes open the doors, revealing the treasure trove beyond.

I can’t help but gape at what I see before me. There are stacks and stacks of luxury goods neatly arranged on hangers and racks. There’s even a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To my left is an entire two-story wall just of shoes.

“Oh my god,” I say, looking around.

“You like?” she asks, standing proudly in the middle of the room. “Kent used to have it all neatly put away in boxes, but I made him let me organize it. You know,” she shrugs, “really give it that Rodeo Drive feeling.”

It really is dazzling. Everywhere I look I see brand names I’ve only ever seen in fashion spreads – Balenciaga, Hermes, Dior, Chanel.

“Where did it all come from?” I ask.