Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
I threw my head back, eyes closed as I chased my orgasm. He gave just a few more thrusts before I felt him spill himself into me. My nerves coiled and spiraled in manic euphoria, leaving me breathless and trembling.
My whole body swayed, and I fell forward onto Tallon’s chest. He enveloped me in his arms and turned us onto our sides. He kissed me long and deep before tucking me under his chin. Together we lay there in a stagnant state of sated bliss.
I wondered if that was the very moment that our future baby was conceived.
My hand reached up to frame his face. “I can’t wait to start a family with you,” I whispered.
I wasn’t going to lie. Our relationship had started out as anything but normal. We faced trial after trial and obstacles that were hard enough to cause any rational person to call it quits. But Tallon and I were far from rational.
The second I literally fell for him, and I felt his arms wrap around me, I knew that there was no going back. But I had no regrets because I was exactly where I was supposed to be—happily caught in the arms of the man who I deeply loved, and looking hopefully toward the future.
*Six Months Later*
*Tallon*
“Italian-Russian fusion?” Vinny raised an eyebrow at me as we walked down the new boulevard. New restaurants and shops, some brand new and some familiar, were opening in just a few weeks, and there was a rush of workers as they finished the last few touches.
Signs on glass windows were installed in a hurry. It was a busy location, and one that I was proud to have had a hand in building.
“I was inspired,” I said with a grin, “from my mother-in-law’s wonderful menu at our wedding. Plus, the chef is a rather unusual sort who wanted to build a new restaurant here to ‘unleash their creative spirit.’ I figured you’d appreciate their enthusiasm.”
“Oh, joy.” Vinny rolled his eyes. “Are you even sure this guy knows what he’s doing?”
“Well, the chef is a graduate of the Italian Culinary Institute and the Novikov School in Russia, where they got top marks for making doctor’s sausage pelmeni with Bolognese sauce. They’re the real deal alright, and probably one of the only chefs who knows how to combine Russian and Italian dishes into something edible.”
“None of that means anything to me,” Vinny sighed. “But I trust your judgment. Though, I’m very curious. What the hell is a doctor’s sausage?”
I laughed, not giving him an answer as we arrived in front of the restaurant. The building was rather unusual, shaped like a semi-circle. From the top to the bottom were reinforced glass windows with light pouring in from every angle. Though we could barely see the second floor from where we were, the main floor had a very delicate atmosphere.
The chairs and tables had yet to be set up. For now, they were leaning against the windows, but I could already see booths made with Italian leather in the corners, some long and some short. In the back was a very fancy-looking bar with barstools bolted to the floor.
I nodded in approval at that. We could never underestimate a drunk’s ability to throw a bar stool out of a window… or on rarer occasions, people.
But at least we could prevent the bar stools from going through the windows. As soon as we entered the building, the heavy scent of fresh paint and sawdust met our noses. Underneath was an alluring aroma, one very familiar but also unusual.
“Hello?” I called out.
I felt a bit strange, standing in the very well-lit lobby of an unfinished restaurant. There were heavy-duty lights above that had yet to be turned on, but I could tell they had been inspired by stage lights. The floor was made of wood panels and very muted in color compared to everything else, but the view was amazing outside.
“Hey there!”
A head popped out from around the corner, with a few dishes on very colorful bowls and plates on a tray. The very beautiful woman grinned at us with a bright look, her hair pulled back professionally into a bun. She was dressed in a white coat that we immediately recognized as the head chef’s uniform.
“You must Miss Barbieri?” I asked with a smile, glancing at Vinny with a smug look from the corner of my eye.
His jaw had dropped, and he peeled his eyes from the chef I had hired to me with a betrayed look.
“You didn’t say she was a woman,” he hissed quietly to me.
“Does that matter?” I raised an eyebrow and he faltered, shutting his mouth with a pout.
“You could’ve told me at least,” he huffed. “I figured it was an old guy who was bored with life and just wanted to do something crazy.”
“Old guy who’s bored with life? No. But she is a bit crazy,” I admitted thoughtfully.
“Mr. Valentino!” Our chef, Beatrice Barbieri, grinned widely, setting the tray of dishes onto one of the only tables flipped on its right side. “I was just making some of the dishes I wanted to serve in the restaurant. Would you mind giving them a try?”
“Of course,” I replied politely, holding back a laugh as Vinny’s face went pure white at the sight of the Russian-Italian fusion dishes.
Much to my delight, Vinny got to do most of the taste-testing.
I got to pass by with a little taste of each dish, but Chef Barbieri was intent on impressing Vinny once she knew he was also funding the restaurant. She made him try everything from a vodka sauce alfredo to Russian Shashlik on fire oven pizza pies.
By the end of it, Vinny had collapsed onto the table, looking quite green as I finished closing the deal with Beatrice.
“These are delicious. We’ll visit again in a week or two for the whole menu if you can have it ready by then,” I told her with a friendly smile.
“Yes! Yes! I can be ready by then. Thank you so much, Mr. Valentino!” Beatrice gushed, her cheeks turning red in pure bliss as she excitedly hopped around like the twenty-something fresh culinary graduate she was.
I knew from her background that no one had been willing to give her a chance, especially in such an old and traditional city like Florence. But as I had learned with everything I’d experienced with Natalia, change could be good sometimes.
“Alright, ready to go, bud?” I grinned at my best friend, crossing my arms as he slowly dragged himself up from the table.
He gave a loud burp, which I could only imagine smelled as bad as it sounded.
He grimaced, sending me a death glare. “I hate you.”
“Love you too, Vin,” I smirked, finally taking pity on him as I threw his arm around me and helped me out onto the sidewalk. “So, what was your favorite dish?”
“Fuck you.”
“Personally, I liked the pizza.”
He just groaned in response. It took a while before he gained his footing again, and we headed down the street, intent on heading home. But just as we turned the corner, we nearly ran straight into a hooded figure in a jacket.
I frowned at him. A simple black mask on his face obscured his features, but I could see his eyes, dark and utterly pinned on me. A bad feeling welled up in my chest and I sidestepped to the right, intending to go past him, when from underneath his coat he pulled out a shiny pistol and narrowed it straight at my head.
“Who the fuck are you?” I said, holding back my real rage as I glared at the unknown assailant. “Do you want money? Cause you fucked with the wrong person, asshole.”
By my side, Vinny had already drawn his gun, though he didn’t pull the trigger yet with the stranger’s pistol trained on me. I hoped it was still possible to disarm this man, especially if he was inexperienced.
But my confidence quickly dissipated as the man chuckled and lifted off his mask, the aged, hatred-soaked face of Antonio leering out beneath the hood.
“Antonio,” Vinny growled, as pissed as I was.
We both had thought he’d disappeared for good after getting caught for trying to frame me. It had been a long time since either of us had even heard his name, much less caught sight of him. In truth, I had thought he had fled, finally given up on his vendetta.
But we should’ve known better.
Antonio was older, and he didn’t get to his age in the business without being very good at what he did. He’d almost ruined my life for nothing but a grudge, and I had no doubt that was why he was in front of me today.
“I don’t think so, Tallon,” Antonio sneered as he caught the twitch of my fingers toward my holster. “One wrong move and I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull. It doesn’t matter to me whether you die here or not, so long as you suffer.”
I grit my teeth, feeling cold down to my fingertips. He really would do it. I had no doubt. But I also knew that soon enough Dom or Tino would notice we were missing and come looking. I just had to buy time.
