Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 157 -

Весса.

We sat on the terrace of La Loggia under a white umbrella, a light breeze tickling at the tablecloth and the fabric of the umbrella.

"The boys" stood close by, but I was starting to get used to their presence and allowed them to fade into the background.

"How is the fruit?" James asked me, pointing a fork at the item I'd ordered.

It was some kind of tart, if I had to hazard a guess, but without the crust. "It's exquisite," I said. "And your... meat tower?"

James burst out laughing. "My 'meat tower' is delectable, thank you."

"Good." I blushed, but I didn't know Italian, and James had ordered for us, so even if there had been English subtitles, I wouldn't have seen them.

We shared what I thought was flan for dessert, which was decoratively covered in sauce. It was almost too beautiful to eat, but James dug in with a fork and held a small bite to my lips before I could protest. It was melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

"Mmm," I murmured, closing my eyes.

When I opened them, James was smiling at me. "Glad you're enjoying it."

"Still mad at you," I said, but with a small, teasing grin.

"I know." James held up another bite for me.

I closed my lips over the dessert and, glancing around at the empty tables nearby, made a low, somewhat indecent sound.

James's eyebrows arched up, intrigued. "Well, well, Signorina Woods, were you hoping for a different kind of dessert?"

"I don't know, Signore Valentino," I teased back. "Were YOU hoping for a different kind of dessert?"

"Always," James rumbled. "With you? Always."

That made me wonder about something else. "I... know it's not any of my business..." I began awkwardly.

"When has that ever stopped you before?" James chuckled.

"Ha. Ha. No, I mean... I know you know about Neal. I was just wondering if you had... you know... met anyone in Japan or Italy or wherever you've been..." I fidgeted with the tablecloth.

James held out his hand to me, and I stopped fidgeting, slowly laying my hand in his. "Becca," he said softly. "There hasn't been anyone else. And that's the truth."

"Oh." I could feel my cheeks heating up with another blush.

"I missed you. I didn't want anyone but you," James continued. "I don't say that because I think you're supposed to feel guilty about Neal-I'm never going to like the guy, and I'll always be jealous of the time and experiences he got to share with you-but I don't begrudge you that relationship. I'm telling you this because, even though I can be an absolute b*stard sometimes, I want you to know I'm devoted to you. Committed. I want us to be a family, Becca."

I looked down at our joined hands. "I'd consider it, if I didn't know it was going to lead Alessandro into a life I don't think is good for him."

"We've got at least eighteen years between now and then. Things can change, Becca, in just an instant," James said, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb in slow circles.

"True." My life had changed exponentially in less than two years, from one extreme, to another, to another.

"Can we give it a try, Becca?" James pleaded with me. "Just a try. I'm just asking for a chance."

“I—"

"Scuzzi, signore," a well-dressed waiter came over with the restaurant phone and handed it to James with some explanation in Italian.

James frowned and held the phone up to his ear. His expression grew more and more thunderous as whoever was on the other side of the line kept talking.

"The boys" contracted in on us, slowly getting closer and closer until there was a not-so-subtle ring of protection around us.

"Is... something wrong?" I mouthed to James.

He held up a hand to me, then turned away slightly and began talking into the phone, this time in English. "Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Mikhail, but as you know, your father was threatening my family. There wasn't anything else I could do."

Mikhail? A Russian name. And, unless I missed my guess, Sergei's son.

"I don't care what Ronaldo promised you. He's not head of the family. He's never going to be head of the family," James seethed.

Ronaldo... James's cousin? Confusion washed over me that I was going to have James straighten out the moment he was off the phone.

"Oh, and he promised that to the Volkov's did he? I'd like to see him make good on that without the backing of the family," James snorted. "Well, Mikhail Zaytsev, I'd like to see you try. I don't care who you've got behind you. You're only shooting yourself in the foot by going against the Valentinos."

James hung up then with a jab of his finger. He looked over at me.

I was sitting with my arms folded and an inquiring eyebrow arched. "Well?"

"We're having some problems. Nothing my uncle and I can't handle," James said.

"Right. So Mikhail Zaytsev, who I am assuming is Sergei's son, knew we were here by consulting a psychic?" I snapped.

James sighed. "I track his movements. He tracks mine. We're enemies. It's to be expected."

"Ahuh. So, things are all safe and sound inside the compound, huh?" I scoffed.

James reached for my hand, but I snatched it back. "Don't you try buttering me up, James. I know something's wrong. And now we're in danger inside the compound, too?"

"You're not in danger inside the compound," James assured me. "If anything, Ronaldo's the one in danger. Uncle will not take kindly to Ronaldo still making shady backdoor deals and turning the Russians against us." "Ronaldo's been making shady backdoor deals?" I echoed.

"Yes. That's why I'm the heir apparent and he's not. Uncle announced it not long ago. Ronaldo is angry as f*ck, but there's nothing he can do about it," James said.

"Except maybe stage a little coup with some Russians right under your nose?" I suggested.

James shrugged. "The thought had occurred to me. I have men loyal to me in the compound, though, and making a move on my family inside the compound is not going to win Ronaldo any supporters. It's going to be alright." "Every time you say that it isn't alright." I stood, dusting off my sundress. "Take me back to the compound. I want to check on the children."

"Becca." James gestured for me to sit again. "Let's just finish watching the sunset. Then we'll head home. You've said more than once that we can't just stop living."

He had a point. "You're sure, you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN the children are okay?"

"I'm absolutely certain," James replied. "If I weren't, I would never have brought you to Italy."

I slowly sat back down. "I'm taking you at your word, James. I'm tired of you saying things are okay and then they turn out not to be."

"Yeah, I get that. And I'm sorry," James said. He reached out his hand once more, and I reluctantly laid mine on top of his.

James smiled and interlaced our fingers. "Now, just watch. The sunset here is spectacular."

I looked out at the setting sun, watching the terracotta roofs glow orange as the sun descended below the horizon. It was absolutely breathtaking.

When it was nearly full dark, James stood. I only realized then that I was still holding his hand. "Back to the cars."

"Okay." I went with James, our hands joined easily between us as we walked.

"The boys" fanned out around us and escorted us back to the cars. James opened the back door of one black sedan for me, while two of "the boys" got in the front seat and the other four got in the other car. I slid across the seat, letting James come in after me.

"Please close the partition, Riccardo," James said once we were settled.

Riccardo closed the partition.

It was just James and me, then, in the too-close quarters of the back of the car. Did he know what he did to me? What he STILL did to me?

"Today was a nice day..." I swallowed before continuing. "Thank you."

"I want us to have many nice days in the future, Becca," James responded. "Next time, we'll tour the city itself."

"I'd like that," I said.

James dropped his chin on my shoulder. "You missed me. And I missed you." He put a hand on my bare knee and rubbed little circles with his thumb. "What do you think we should do about that?"

I gasped. "James, in the car?!"

"Why not? Partition's closed. We've got a while before we're back at the compound." James nuzzled my neck, nipping at my earlobe. "I'd like to continue where we left off on the jet."

"Left off? I think we both walked away from that more than satisfied," I said. My breath was starting to come in little pants.

James's hand traveled deliberately higher on my thigh. "We were both angry then. I was thinking maybe we could get back to something... sweeter."

"Sweeter'? James, I'm not sure 'sweet' is one of your favorite positions," I giggled.

"It is today." James unbuckled his seatbelt, then mine, and pushed me down on the bench seat, slinging my legs over his hips. "Admit it. This is what you wanted to happen the moment you put on that sundress." I bit my lip. "Maybe."

"Mhm. You just keep trying to convince yourself you didn't wear that sundress for me," James said. He massaged his hands, both of them, up my thighs now, until he reached the waistband of my lace panties. "Tell me you want it, Becca." I did want it, God help me. "Yes."

"Use your words. Tell me," James grinned wickedly.

"Yes, I want it," I moaned as James thumbed my cl*t through my panties.

James peeled down my underwear, all the way down over my slingback sandals, and then shoved them in his pocket. "What do you want, Becca?" James teased.

Of course, he was going to make me spell it out for him. Well, then, wasn't he in for it. "I want your big, thick d*ck ramming into me until I scream for mercy," I said, holding his gaze.

James raised his eyebrows. "Mmm, impressive, my little minx."

"Aren't I, though? Now, impress me, Mr. Valentino," I demanded.

"Yes, ma'am," James chuckled, undoing his belt. He opened his pants and his c*ck sprang free. I was about to be thoroughly f*cked by the Italian Stallion and my mouth and other parts watered at the very thought.

As he lined up with my p*ssy, however, another thought occurred to me. "James, do you have a condom?"

James blew out a frustrated breath, pulling back a little, his c*ck already leaking prec*m. "Not with me, no." He raked a hand through his hair, then looked down at me with intense eyes. "Does it matter?"

Did it matter?

I opened my mouth to respond that of course, it mattered. But then I stopped. I thought of our beautiful little Dahlia and felt my cheeks go pink.

Then I circled my hand around the base of James's c*ck and gently pulled him towards my slit.

"No," I whispered, widening my legs and accepting him, bare, inside me. "No, it doesn't matter."