Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“I don’t know,” Olivia said, frowning as she tried to recover the name from her memory. “But you’re right, they are beautiful.”
“Probably some flower with a hard-to-pronounce name,” Dahlia waved it off. “They’re everywhere in Florence, especially during spring.”
“Magnolias,” I said softly. “It’s a magnolia tree.”
Three pairs of eyes landed on me, and Elena smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at me.
“It’s wonderful, Mr. Valentino,” she said.
There was an uncomfortable feeling that burrowed under my skin as she stared at me for a little too long. The expression of her awe for the tree and flowers was normal, so why did it feel so wrong?
The tour continued with Elena being dragged along by my wife and cousin, and I trailed behind–uncertainly.
They toured the entire compound, leaving bedrooms and important offices out of it. Olivia wanted to take her in to see our suite, but that was where I drew the line. I directed them upstairs, and Elena just smiled through it all, making comments here and there. Some were filled with genuine warmth, and others with appreciation for Olivia being “lucky.”
Those were the comments that made me most uncomfortable.
Olivia had made it clear to me over our time together that she couldn’t care less about wealth. She only used my money when I insisted, and though she was thankful for it, she never asked me to pay for anything.
That was always my decision. But Elena… she may have looked somewhat similar to Olivia, but she was as far from my wife as she could be. Her eyes lingered on the diamonds in the chandelier; she asked about the age of the vases and the grand fireplace, letting comments about cost slip without seeming to be rude.
Despite how focused on her role she was, there was just the tiniest hint of bitterness in every smooth movement, one that she was clearly desperate to hide.
I watched her closely as the group retreated to the kitchen, snacking on the various foods that Olivia had brought out just for her.
“Hmm, this is delicious,” Elena grinned as she took a bite of the cannoli.
“Maria’s the best,” Olivia said proudly.
“No disagreements there. You should try her margaritas after, you know, the whole pregnancy thing,” Dahlia commented sheepishly as her eyes flickered to Elena’s flat stomach and then awkwardly to the table. “Never mind.”
Elena laughed. “No, that sounds amazing. I’m honored you consider me a friend even after the baby is born.”
“Of course,” Dahlia grinned. “Us girls gotta stick together. Plus, you’re helping my best friend out with her dream. How could we not love you already?”
Touched, Elena beamed. “I’m just happy to be able to help support them on their path to parenthood. Right, Olivia?”
“Right,” Olivia agreed, a dash of cannoli cream stuck on her nose.
Elena and Dahlia exchanged glances, bursting into giggles as Olivia sent them a weird look.
“What? Something wrong?” she frowned, putting her hands on her hips.
I chuckled, kicking off from the wall as I stood behind her.
“You’ve got a little something, carina,” I whispered to her, covering her from the peeping eyes as I licked the cream straight off the tip of her nose.
She blushed, turning bright red, and I chuckled, stepping back as I licked my lips. She was right; those cannolis were good.
“Ooooh, love in the kitchen,” Dahlia smirked. “You two should get a room before you start making out right in front of us. It’s not very sanitary.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Elena said, watching us as I wrapped my arms around Olivia, holding her close.
I eyed Elena as the girls laughed and joked around.
I was still unsure about her. She seemed to be genuine, but a little voice kept nagging in the back of my mind.
Was everything really okay with this woman?
*Elena*
The brisk spring air brushed against my heated skin like a whisper through chapped lips. The clock ticked silently into the night as I stared thoughtfully out of the open window.
My socked feet were kept from the slight chill, but the simple used T-shirt I wore as a nightdress did little to hide my legs from the wind. It was dark, the sky alight with tiny dots that barely resembled stars. The last lit lamppost stood on the street corner like the shadow of a lonely man still waiting for the last bus of the night.
With my knees tucked to my chest, I took up all the room on the little bay window in my dingy one-room apartment. It was an average room, not the fanciest, but not the worst. It was just average, the kind of place a person spent their life trying to escape from, unless they were born into poverty like me. Then they might actually be trying to get to a place like this.
I had heat and electricity, and I had a place to sleep and store my clothes. That was all I needed.
Or that’s what I told myself as the chilly breeze bit against my numb cheeks.
I breathed a soft sigh, shutting my eyes as I rested my head on the top of my knees. It was a silent, early spring night, and most people were asleep.
But not me.
While I sat here, wasting away the hours of the night like a gambler wasted away their coins on one last play, across the city lay a girl who looked much like me–brown hair, brown eyes, completely average.
And yet, she was living a life that was very much not average.
The stranger I could mistake for my reflection lived in a massive mansion, one with a grand staircase with real wooden banisters and a full garden in the back with flowers of every type that bloomed throughout the year.
With marble kitchens and gold-lined porcelain dishes, even the artwork and portraits that lined the walls were worth more than the amount of my entire apartment complex.
I could see the chandelier as it hung from the ceiling now, the crystals twinkling in the sunlight as it cast a faint glow over her pretty, untouched skin. The girl was beautiful, so young and vibrant, just like the very magnolias that blossomed in the spring–the ones she had barely glanced at.
I could admit to myself that I was envious. Who wouldn’t be, after all? My reflection had everything she could ever want–a best friend who loved her to pieces, more money than she could ever spend, full tuition to any university she may have chosen that she didn’t have to spend a cent for, and most of all… a man too perfect to describe.
She didn’t have to work two jobs to afford a small, average apartment like me, and then I still struggled to keep it most months. She didn’t have to decide between electricity and food when the never-ending bill collectors came knocking on her door.
She didn’t have to soak her tired, hurting hands in warm water every night, just to keep them from blistering any further.
I buried my head into my knees, taking in a shuddering breath as a self-loathing bit at my heels. It was easier to envision her as imaginary, just an image on a screen or in a mirror, so I didn’t have to face my own filthy desires that held their hand around my throat, strangling me with every moment I sat here in my small, average apartment completely alone.
The biting emptiness was easy to ignore on most days.
But not tonight.
It was wrong to harbor these ugly feelings, wrong to even consider my own thoughts, but the temptation, the warmth that lingered just out of reach when I had entered that house, was too overwhelming to ignore.
I’d never seen a man love someone so deeply.
The way his arms had slid around her waist so easily, his adoring eyes locked only on her, and the way he gravitated to her no matter where she was. It was all too easy to see the worship in his lips as he kissed her—strong and protective and kind and—hers.
He was hers, like the house and the money and the endless loving people who surrounded her. All of it belonged to her.
