Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
I leaned so I could see through the entryway of the living room and gestured to Marco to lead her out.
She went slowly, the beginning of a pregnancy waddle already evident in her walk, and I remained standing by the armchair until the door shut behind her.
In the privacy of my own home, I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t know which affected me more–realizing I’d called my wife crazy for nothing more than seeing something I didn’t, or taking a step back from our baby in another woman’s stomach.
I picked up my phone to call Olivia once more. It didn’t even ring, just sent me directly to voicemail. She must have turned her phone off.
I hung up. Shame roiled in my stomach, contested in intensity only by the aching feeling that I ought to run after Elena and suggest she watch her movies here, even though I couldn’t watch them with her.
Gabriele passed by the entrance to the living room, and I bolted after him before I could think it through. I caught his arm, and he turned in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I swallowed and took my hand back. Grabbing people was becoming an unfortunate habit. “That check on Elena. Have you found anything?”
Gabriele glanced around the open hall, then shook his head. “All the same information… nothing suspicious, nothing even worth taking a second look at. Why?”
I shook my head.
My friend took a step closer. “Get some sleep. You look like you’ve been through a wood chipper.”
I snorted. That more accurately described my riot of emotions than anything else I’d come up with. “Noted. Get back to work.”
He moved off down the hall in the direction he had been traveling much more slowly than usual, but he didn’t glance back at me.
I ran a hand over my face and slumped against the wall… nothing, always nothing. I trusted Gabriele with my life. I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t deny my wife’s doubts any longer, or my own.
Though I didn’t know if I doubted Elena or myself anymore.
*Olivia*
I tapped my feet on the floor of the limo and tried to peer out the darkened windows to guess how long until we arrived back at the compound. The night away had definitely been the right choice, but it didn’t reduce the weight of Gio’s missed calls on my phone or the things he said to me.
I didn’t want to stay away any longer, but I didn’t know what sort of husband I was coming back to. Could I expect the warm, loving man who held me as we cried about our infertility, or the cold mafia don who’d called me silly and jealous?
Dahlia reached over and took my hand. “You know I’ll kill him if he acts out again.”
I laughed despite my nerves. “I know. I just think nineteen is a little young to be widowed.”
She squeezed my hand and looked at me seriously. “He may be big, and he may be intimidating, but you deserve to be heard. Hell, he noticed Elena was encroaching on him first. You just need to be able to talk to each other without him freaking out.”
I snorted. “I know, but that’s not really in my court.”
The limo pulled up the long driveway and slowed. I took a deep breath, squeezed Dahlia’s hand, and climbed out of the car.
A guard leaned over and knocked on the front door, and Gio swung it open. My heart leaped into my throat. He looked rumpled, careworn. His shirt was untucked, and I could see bags under his eyes. Distantly, I heard Dahlia climb out of the limo behind me. I took a step forward, trying to see the look in his eyes.
He stepped closer as well. His blue eyes came into view, almost quivering with hope and worry. He opened his arms, an invitation for me to close the distance.
I hesitated. I hated seeing him hurt like this, but he’d hurt me. I didn’t want to rush back into his arms without resolving anything. I didn’t want him to think he could treat me like that.
I took a deep breath and shook my head. He folded his arms neatly behind his back and stepped to the side, allowing Dahlia and me into the compound.
I wound my arm through Dahlia’s, and we walked inside. Gio trailed after and closed the door behind us.
One of the armchairs from his office had been dragged into the main entryway, along with a small table holding a pile of paperwork. He saw my gaze land on it and cleared his throat.
“I didn’t know when you would be home.”
He’d been waiting for me? He abandoned his precious office to sit, exposed, as close to the door as he could for fear of missing me?
Dahlia pulled her arm out of mine. “I’ll let you two talk.”
As she left, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Don’t take his shit, no matter how sweet he’s being.”
I smiled after her. Whoever the enemy, I always had someone in my corner.
“Ah,” Gio said. “How was your night?”
I scuffed my foot against the floor. “Good, good. With… everything, I’d kind of forgotten how to be a college student. Dahlia took me clubbing for the first time in a long time, and I remembered how much I missed dancing.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you had a good time.” His voice sounded throaty and uneven.
I looked up at him. Emotion brimmed in his eyes, complex and difficult to understand, but I got the sense he meant what he said.
“Perhaps… perhaps you can take me to a club sometime… if my dancing wouldn’t embarrass you too badly,” he said almost shyly.
I sighed. “Gio, what are we doing?”
He stiffened. “I’m welcoming my wife home from a much-needed night out. What are you doing?”
I crossed my arms. “No, you’re not. You’re welcoming your wife home from a much-needed getting-the-fuck-out-of-Dodge because we fight more often than we talk these days. We can’t exchange a few pleasantries and get right back into the swing of things.”
He drooped, and my heart panged. I hated making him unhappy, but Dahlia was right. I had to stand my ground.
“You’re right, carina. Will you come to our room with me? I’d rather not do this where everyone can hear.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll come to our sitting room.”
I’d missed him enough that I worried I’d have trouble maintaining my focus and righteous anger with our bed right there.
He nodded unhappily and led the way.
I let him take a seat on one of the couches before perching myself on the other, keeping the low coffee table between us.
“I am genuinely pleased you had a good night,” he said.
“My good night made me realize I can’t just keep dancing around problems and hoping they’ll fix themselves,” I replied. “I haven’t had fun since Tuscany, did you know that?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Not in so many words, but I’d be hard-pressed to say I have either.”
I uncrossed my arms and spread my hands. “Why can’t we just talk to each other like we used to?”
He sighed and slumped against the back of the couch. “I wish I knew, carina. I want to, but something keeps taking over my mouth and making me say things I regret.”
