Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“She said what?” I bit out, cold and unfeeling.
“Take a deep breath, Olive,” Dahlia grasped my hands, a worried look in her eyes. “Don’t lose it over this, okay? It’s possible she was saying that stuff because she didn’t want to tell her friends she was a surrogate. Maybe it was just easier.”
But I could see the doubt on her face. Even she didn’t believe that. She was just trying to make me feel better.
I took in a few deep, calming breaths, reining in my temper under control as I thought about it a little more. Nothing was confirmed yet. We still didn’t know if Elena truly had ulterior motives or not, and she deserved the benefit of the doubt at the very least.
But the fear for our future together—me, Gio, and our baby cradled in our arms—had taken residence in my heart. I doubted it would go away anytime soon either.
If my trust in Elena was misplaced, we could all be in danger.
“Are you okay?” Dahlia asked, worriedly.
“No,” I replied calmly. “But I will be.”
I had to be. The promise I had made to myself—of being the rock my family needed—was still fresh in my mind. I wouldn’t fall to pieces over this. I wouldn’t lose my mind and accuse Elena of things until I was absolutely sure she had bad intentions toward my husband and me.
Before we could talk any further, however, Maria appeared in the doorway with a confused look.
“Senora! Senorita Elena is here,” Maria said, looking just as baffled as I was.
“What the fuck?” Dahlia burst out. “Did you call her here?”
“No,” I answered with a frown. We rushed out of the room and down the hallway, and my mind went back to all the new information I had learned. My spine hardened like steel as I prepared myself for anything.
But I did not prepare myself for what I saw.
There in front of the door was Gio. That was normal. But what was not normal was the woman with brown hair who had wrapped herself around him in a shockingly affectionate embrace. Her head leaned on his chest, and though his arms were up and a frown on his lips like he didn’t quite know what to do, that righteous ice-cold fury was back in my veins.
“Carina.” Gio saw me, his expression melting, and he pulled Elena’s arms away from him, stepping around her to head toward me. I put up my hand to halt him in his tracks, and he stopped, surprise and a bit of hurt flashing across his face.
Instead, I turned to Elena with a cold smile.
“Olivia, I’m so happy to see you guys got back!”
She spun around to face us, beaming as usual like I didn’t just come in to find her having her hands all over my husband.
An idea toyed in my mind, and I stepped forward, opening up my arms for my own hug. Her smile faltered at the corners, so small I almost wouldn’t have noticed it. But she opened her arms and hugged me as well.
But unlike the affection she had just shown my husband, she was incredibly stiff, uncomfortable when she had never been so before. She stepped back, holding her arms behind her back, even as she smiled.
I had come back to Florence in a bright mood, hoping to put all of the unease and apprehension to rest. But now, it had only increased.
I stared at Elena, doubt looming behind her.
Home sweet home.
With all the drama that came with it too.
*Olivia*
Three months had passed since summer came and went, and my first year in Florence had also come to an end. It was hard to believe how much had transpired in just a single year, especially considering how different things were now. I found myself married to a wonderful man whom I loved dearly, and we were expecting an adorable baby.
I should have been overjoyed.
If only my baby wasn’t growing inside another woman’s womb.
My reservations about Elena continued to escalate as the months went by. Her stomach began to swell, and she quickly started complaining about various symptoms. I had to set aside my suspicions for the time being because her struggle with morning sickness had left her in need of help more than ever. I spent many days kneeling in the bathroom with her, holding her hair back as she vomited into the bowl. Though it was unpleasant, I was determined to be there for her.
But I was also cautious. Her immediate instinct was to ask Gio for help, and more often than not, he obliged, wanting to be of assistance in any way he could. When she asked to spend the night at our house due to her sickness, much to my surprise, he easily agreed, even allowing her to claim the guest room right next to ours.
It bothered me whenever I woke up in the middle of the night only to find Gio making tea for her in the kitchen. I knew he was merely being kind, but it didn’t alleviate the tension of our complicated situation.
Her fatigue was another symptom she frequently experienced, often feeling dizzy or lethargic, particularly when Gio was around. After she fell into his arms for the third time, I made sure to position myself between her and Gio at all times. Surprisingly, her fatigue improved soon after.
It seemed that Gio was determined to spoil her. When her feet began to swell, he bought her ten pairs of new shoes. When she complained about grocery prices, he made sure her fridge was filled with whatever she craved that day. I firmly put my foot down when she complained about her breasts swelling, and he wanted to buy her an entire new wardrobe of maternity bras. Instead, Dahlia and I went shopping, ensuring he wouldn’t be involved in picking out her underwear.
Unfortunately, they always seemed to find themselves in awkward positions when I wasn’t around to act as a buffer, and it quickly grew tiresome. Even though there was no sexual aspect to their interactions, I still felt uneasy about each borderline-inappropriate moment.
As the pregnancy progressed, I could sense a growing rift between Gio and me. The small moments piled up, leaving us on opposite ends. Ever since Gio had noticed the little bump on Elena’s stomach, it seemed as though all his suspicions had vanished. He insisted he was focused on taking care of the baby, not Elena, and whenever I brought up my concerns, he reminded me of that. But I couldn’t shake my discomfort.
There was a delicate balance of trust and emotional boundaries, and Elena was quickly trampling over ours. Our nights were now spent in silence, with Gio increasingly spending more hours in his office doing who knows what. The rift between us felt more like an insurmountable chasm, emitting toxic fumes that fueled my jealousy and insecurity to the maximum.
The sky was sunny, complemented by the cool breeze brushing against my skin. The garden was transitioning into shades of red and orange, signaling the arrival of autumn. But I found no enjoyment in the pleasant weather. The shade from the umbrella on the porch table made the area even colder, which suited my mood just fine, even if my bare toes were starting to feel numb.
Resentfully, I glared at the two figures touring the garden—my husband’s broad shoulders and the petite figure beside him. Elena smiled and beamed as Giovani pointed out various flowers and trees, explaining their significance. It was a request he couldn’t refuse from Elena.
She giggled, too far away for me to hear, but I observed as she leaned closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. One would think he would push her away, even gently, but no, he didn’t even seem to notice, simply leading her to the next set of flowers.
I tightened my grip around the cold glass I was sipping, grinding my teeth as I slurped up the liquid through the straw. He smiled, and in my mind, I knew it was the same polite smile he bestowed upon everyone, but at this point, my brain couldn’t comprehend that. I couldn’t fully trust his intentions anymore, especially when he allowed her to lean on him like that.
It was difficult to convince myself that their relationship didn’t extend beyond the agreed arrangement. He had promised to distance himself from Elena, but as soon as her pregnancy became evident, those promises evaporated. He probably spent more time with her than with me at this point. And damn if that didn’t stab me in the heart.
I never took my eyes off the two, even as I heard flip-flops approaching behind me. Dahlia collapsed into the chair beside me, sighing. Sweat glistened on her skin, and she brushed a hand through her damp hair, tying it back into a ponytail.
“Geez, it’s hot today,” Dahlia huffed, fanning her face with her hand. Her gaze fell upon my cold drink, and she grinned. “Hey, can I have a sip?”
“Go ahead,” I grumbled, pushing the drink toward her.
She leaned forward, bypassing the straw and taking a gulp directly from the cup. I flinched as she immediately spat out the contents, coughing as if she had swallowed poison.
“What the fuck is that?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, giving me a horrified look.
“Spirytus,” I shrugged, grabbing the cup back from her and taking a long drink through the straw. The horror in her eyes spoke volumes, and ordinarily, I would have reassured her that I wasn’t actually consuming ninety-six percent alcohol in the middle of the day. But I wasn’t in the mood to lie.
“Why the fuck are you drinking one of the strongest vodkas at two in the afternoon?” She glared at me, crossing her arms as if scolding a misbehaving child.
“I put strawberries in it,” I defended myself. I had thought that the natural sweetness of the fruit could counterbalance the intense burning taste, not unlike swallowing a gallon of gasoline and a lit match afterward.
Clearly, it didn’t work.
“Where did you even find Spirytus, Olive? That stuff is nasty!” Dahlia scolded me, staring at me expectantly.
“Giovani’s liquor cabinet,” I replied simply.
