Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“Here you are my beauty!” Dahlia pulled out a bottle of Chianti red wine, looking like she had found an oasis after crossing a desert for a month straight.
I sighed, knowing she was a lost cause now. A few of the maids stepped forward to help me unpack and put away all the groceries and as Dahlia began drinking straight from the bottle. Hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter, I continued to move down my checklist until it was done.
“That’s everything.” I sighed in relief, finally taking a breath as the last of the groceries were put away. I smiled at Celine and Nilda, two of the kitchen maids whom I had grown rather close to over the past few months. “Grazie, ladies.”
“Prego, Signora,” The two smiled happily, moving on with their next chores.
“Now that that’s over, come have a drink with me.” Dahlia waved the bottle in the air, a mischievous grin on her lips. I grinned, finally relaxing after knowing we hadn’t missed anything.
“Did Tallon say when he’ll be back?” I asked as Maria handed me a wine glass as she passed through, giving Dahlia a rather annoyed look as she took a swig straight from the bottle and took a moment to chase her off the counter.
“Grazie, Maria,” I told her with a smile as I poured myself a small amount. The red wine was still chilled and was just what I needed as I sat down at the island with Dahlia taking the seat to my right, this time in a chair that was meant to be sat on.
“He’ll be arriving early morning.” Dahlia shrugged. “And I told them they both had to be on their best behavior or I’d make sure they won’t be able to walk for a week. So, they should be good. No promises that they won’t be their usual asshole selves, though.”
“I already expected that.” I laughed. “You keep them in line and I’ll keep Gio and my dad in line.”
“Deal,” Dahlia grinned, downing her glass.
I took my time a bit. Elio was taking a nap, and the baby monitor app on my phone hadn’t alerted me to any activity in his room yet, so I had a few more moments to myself. I realized now, without any more planning to do, that I felt a little lost.
Anxiety was creeping up my spine like an old friend and I couldn’t seem to shake it off. I had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, though I didn’t know what.
I wanted everyone to like my dad, to welcome him, and to trust him like I did. Maybe Gio was right and I was being naive, letting my emotions get in the way of my logic, but I felt like I needed to get to know him better, that he wasn’t at all the villain I’d often imagined when I was younger.
I’d spent so long without a father, imagining every scenario possible of why he had abandoned me, that now that I had one, I lived in a constant state of terror that I would wake up one day and he would be gone once more.
“Nervous?” Dahlia asked, bumping into my shoulder lightly.
“Yeah. What if you’re right? What if this is a disaster and I should’ve just–” I swallowed, uncomfortably, unwilling the voice the darker part of my thoughts, flashes of violence and anger in my mind. I finished lamely, “Should I have gone with… pizza?”
“You know I think you should always go with pizza,” Dahlia smiled, but her eyes softened as the glass of wine trembled in my hands. “But I think this time, you made the right decision, Olive. We’ll be right here with you all the way, okay?”
I smiled, my eyes misting up with emotion and I sighed, leaning my head on her shoulder. “You’re the best, Dolly.”
“This we know.” She nodded sagely.
“Signora!” A call from the head chef as he entered the kitchen with a huge smile broke me from my thoughts. “You have the menu, Signora?”
“Oh, of course!” I grabbed my phone, quickly shooting off the text to his number. “Will it be all right? I’ll help with anything you might need. Like I make a pretty good tiramisu if we can’t do the–”
“It’s perfetto, Signora.” He laughed good-naturedly. “It sounds delicious and won’t be a problem at all.”
“Good,” I breathed a sigh of relief just as I heard a soft cry from my phone.
“Looks like somebody woke up from their nap.” Dahlia grinned. “Want me to get him?”
“Could you? I’ll brew us some coffee to wake us up,” I smiled.
“You know I’ll steal that munchkin one day if you let me. I’ll show him how to get free drinks at the bar!” Dahlia called off, heading straight to the baby’s room without a second glance.
“Make sure Gio doesn’t find out!” I called back teasingly, knowing she could hear me.
“Damn!” I heard faintly from down the hall. I laughed, getting to my feet to clean up the wine. I tucked it all away, starting the coffee machine and cleaning up the glass I used.
By the time the machine dinged with two cups made just to order, Dahlia came back with my sleepy Elio in her arms. He yawned, rubbing at the corner of his eyes with his balled-up fist.
“Hey, baby,” I cooed, as he caught sight of me and automatically reached his arms out for me. Dahlia transferred him over to me easily and he clung to my neck, still a bit out of it. “Have a nice nap?”
“Mama.” He tucked his head into my collarbone, and I chuckled.
Dahlia grabbed the cups and we headed to the living room, easily bypassing the baby gate we had set up. I turned on the cartoons with one hand, Dahlia curling up into the couch next to me as she handed me my own mug.
It took a few minutes but soon Elio slid off my lap and onto the floor, crawling his way happily to his toys. He grinned as he got into the stationary toy car his daddy had bought for him. It was a perfect size for him. He honked the horn and burst into giggles at the sound.
“So are you and Gio okay?” Dahlia asked with a concerned look. “I noticed he’s been gone a lot.”
“We are,” I sighed. “And he is, but between work and him being convinced that my father is a con artist or worse, after Gio and not really here for me, we don’t get much time together. But that’s only natural considering all the snooping he’s been doing. Mostly, he comes home and spends time with Elio before we crash.”
“Hm.” Dahlia shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a good judge of character, clearly, so I can’t say if he is or not.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I told her with a frown.
“I fell for a man who literally kidnapped me and sold me to a Russian mob.” She sent me a serious look. “My judgment’s kinda questionable after that.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she held up a hand, giving me a hard look.
“Don’t try to defend it. Just don’t,” she warned me. Once I fell silent, she continued on with her previous thought, looking rather pensive. “Unlike you or me, Gio is the Don, Olive. He is always in danger and he has to look out for himself in a way we don’t. It’s a constant battle, and I’ve seen my dad betrayed by men he’d trusted his whole life just for money or power. Imagine that but Gio doing it for over twenty years. Doing that for so many years could make you kinda–”
“Paranoid,” I finished softly.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “He may see problems where there aren’t any for a while, Olive, but it has nothing to do with you or your dad. Just be patient with him, okay?”
I nodded, my heart softening as I looked at the situation from his perspective. Dahlia’s advice was right–I had to be patient with Gio. It would take a while to build trust between my father and my family, for Gio especially.
But I knew this dinner will be the perfect step forward to bring us together, for all of us.
*Giovani*
I should’ve brought my work with me.
I sighed, lamenting my lack of foresight as I stared blankly at the driver’s wheel in front of me. The car was stationary and heating up with every passing moment, but I didn’t dare to lower the tinted windows.
I would never make such a rookie mistake.
But sitting here in a metal deathtrap in ninety-degree weather didn’t seem like the best idea. I was bored, I was hot, and I was ready to call it quits after sitting here for two hours. If I had been in my usual car, this wouldn’t have been a problem.
Stake-outs were a usual thing, and we’d learned to include air conditioning that operated in a separate circuit from the car engine for just these occasions. Unfortunately for me, my usual car was too nice for a covert operation in this neighborhood.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, cursing Alessandro for not being specific about times as I cast a moody glare to the old rickety door of the house across the street. It was run down, with paint peeling from the walls and overgrown grass.
There was only a hint of a path leading to the door, completely overtaken by the vegetation. There were boards on the windows and part of the roof was damaged by the looks of it. But it did fit in with the rest of the neighborhood.
Even in such a rich city as Florence, there were still areas where poverty struck hard and crime flourished in the absence of stability. In this part of town, my car was worth more than the houses and would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb, so I had to use one of the more discrete cars in our fleet.
