Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 193 -

Весса.

I was glad Ronaldo would no longer be an issue, but that didn't change the fact that I didn't want to go to Italy. I didn't want to stay here, either; the Cartwrights and Stepford wives were massive issues. Leaving those issues behind and jumping into a whole set of different ones, though, was not something I wanted either. There was just too much at stake now, and things were finally looking up for us. I swallowed as James's expression shifted from that content smile to a deep frown. This wasn't going to be a fun conversation, that much I knew. However, I needed to stand my ground. Thankfully, the kids were asleep in the nursery, Layla had their monitor, and we could address this like civil adults in here.

"What?"

"You heard me," I said, my lip quivering. "We've been through so much lately, and you remember how much the mafia card almost made us lose our son, James. Things always come up; the last thing I want to do is go back into the maw of the beast."

"But Becca," James tried. "We can't stay here. As much money and influence as I've got, the Cartwrights pose too much of a threat. We nearly lost Alessandro; it's far more dangerous here. Italy is my turf now. We can handle it. All of our issues have been put to rest."

"Issues that will come up again, no doubt, James," I argued, now standing up from the couch. I grabbed the remote and put it forcefully onto the table. The thud that followed wasn't too loud; I made sure of that, as I didn't want to wake the children.

James didn't flinch. His mouth was drawn into a tight line as he stared me down, clearly displeased. Anger and annoyance radiated from him in waves, but I wasn't going to let that intimidate me.

James was supposed to be my safety net, someone that represented protection. That wouldn't be the case in Italy. Our entire family would be in danger there, and I wasn't going to have it. Tally was killed because of this mafia business. What if Alessandro lost James or me? This would come up again, and the Cartwrights could come along and snatch him up exactly in the way they wanted to. Not to mention, our daughter would be without one or both parents. Then, the worst-case scenario flashed through my head, causing my resolve to steel entirely. The mafia business could get one of our precious children killed, and that wasn't something I was going to bear. Not only would we suffer the grief, but so would their 'sibling.'

James, naturally, wasn't going to get the picture. The man clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and relaxed it. He slowly began to shake his head, clearly not listening to a thing I had to say. Oh, here we go.

"Becca," he began, much to my dismay. A long-winded retort, no doubt. "The last issue has been buried. The tapes have been solved, Tony squared it away, and the lawyers are putting the final nail into the coffin. It's done. We're safe in Italy." "We're not, James," I said, exasperated. "You've been named as the new mafia Don. That's dangerous for our children. I know how sad you are about Tally. It wasn't your fault, but-"

"But what? Be very careful what you say next, Becca," James said, clenching his jaw. He wasn't threatening violence by any means, but his tone was edged. I doubted he would raise his voice. This was more about him. He knew he'd get stabbed in the heart emotionally if I kept going.

"But you can't deny the mafia poses a similar threat to our family right now. Don't you get it, James? Do you want either Alessandro or Dahlia to end up with the Cartwrights because one of us is offed too?"

James scowled and shook his head, growling, "That won't happen, Becca. Like I said, it's all taken care of. Italy is my family home, and it's yours, too, now. It's where our family is meant to be. The mafia won't be an issue."

"It will," I denied, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You're not listening to me. It will, James. It's the most obvious thing in the world. You can't just ignore the mafia. It doesn't magically vanish the moment you want it to. It's the mafia!" "Something I understand far more than you do," he replied, causing a surge of anger to rush through me.

"Irrelevant. The point is, they pose a threat to our family, and we will be directly involved with them if we go back to Italy. We can't go back to Florence, and we can't stay here, so we need to replace someplace else," I replied.

"Like where? Do you have some magical solution, Becca? I'm only hearing we can't go to Italy for some ridiculous fantasy you have built in your head that the mafia is going to destroy our family. Let me make this clear. If someone against me because of my mafia connections wanted us dead, it wouldn't matter where we were," James said.

"That's so reassuring," I snapped at him. I stomped my foot on the ground, crossing my arms tightly across my chest as I took a deep breath. Tears began to stream down my cheeks as I realized he wasn't budging on this. "We can't go back to Italy."

"We can, and we will," James replied firmly. "You need to get over this fear. It's taken care of, I got off the phone with Tony just now. Our enemies will leave us alone. You have to understand, they'll leave us alone." James wasn't listening, and I was done. I whirled and stormed out of the room, heading to the guest room and shutting the door. I put effort into not slamming it, wanting the kids to continue getting the sleep they needed. Walking through the room, I made my way to the lamp, my jaw clenching like James's had. This was all so wrong. We finally had a breakthrough and should be happy, we didn't need to fight like this at all.

I paced around the room for a decent amount of time, trying to calm myself down. Nothing was working, though. I placed a hand on my forehead, tears still streaming down my cheeks as I sniffled and felt my stomach clench. "Why isn't he listening to me?" I whispered to myself wishing I could figure out what his obsession with Italy was. Sure, I had no answer to where we'd go otherwise. Maybe to start a charity in a less fortunate country, like I'd discussed with Antoinette.

That would make a positive difference in the world, much more positive than the mafia nonsense James was connected to, which I knew for a fact would come up if we went to Italy. The memories were too haunting, and I was too afraid someone in our family would end up like Tally.

I bit my lip, looking toward the bed. Maybe sleeping on it would be the best idea. It would help calm my nerves a bit, something I needed. A different idea struck me, though, and I made my way to the bathroom connected to the guest room. A shower would do wonders to relax my muscles first, then I could try to sleep. There was a pang of worry in the back of my mind, however, that I wouldn't be able to sleep after that fight. The anxiety was intense, and my stomach twisted with it.

I couldn't let that stop me from trying, though. I started up the shower, ensuring it was at the hottest setting I could handle. Then, I walked up to the mirror, staring at myself. The bags under my eyes had only gotten darker. That had to be because of the trial. Now, they wouldn't go away anytime soon, either. James tended to get his way, and he was as stubborn as, well, a stallion. I had it stuck in my head that Italy would be a horrible idea.

It was only logical to be so afraid, though. After all that happened, James of all people should understand. One phone call that ended the Ronaldo situation wasn't going to change everything. I wished he could understand that. I walked into the shower, letting the hot water patter against my skin and hanging my head. As I lathered my hair with strong, floral-scented shampoo, I cried even harder, in hysterics. All the stress of everything that'd happened lately was hitting me hard.

Holding my composure right now was so difficult. I wasn't sure if things would work out with James, at this rate. He held it together well during that fight, kept his composure, but I knew he was torn apart and angry inside.

I could budge and give him some leeway, but that just wasn't a compromise I found reasonable. Over and over in my head, I could only keep telling myself that we'd be in so much danger if we went back to Italy. It just wasn't possible. Eventually, I made my way out of the shower, toweling myself off and drying my hair, as well. I had on a simple silk nightgown that served its purpose in comfort. By the time I got into bed, I didn't feel much better at all. I'd stopped crying about halfway through the shower, but that clawing anxiety that nothing was going to work out kept my heart clenched. I wanted to stay strong and hold it together for the children. I owed them that. My heart bled for them, and I only wanted what was best.

It couldn't be Italy. James was wrong, I was sure of it. A massive headache began to brew, causing me to reach up and rub my temples. By the time I got back to bed, tears began to flow again. Sleep took forever to overcome me, and when it did, I was restless.

I wasn't sure how long I tossed and turned in my bed, the fight between myself and James playing over and over in my head. There were a few whimpers that escaped my lips that night, as well. At the same time, I knew James was probably hurting too.

Damn it, why couldn't everything work out now that we had the kids, and yet another issue that had followed James was taken care of?!

I stirred, groggily, as a familiar chime hit my ear. I forgot to turn my phone on silent for the night, so it was ringing. Either that or an important person was calling. I reached up to rub my eyes, letting out a sigh.

When I picked up my phone, my lip was quivering. It was midnight, and I was too tired to read who in the world could be calling now. A familiar voice hit my ear, causing me to tense. It was Neal. "Hey, Becca," he said.

"Hello," I replied cautiously, my voice edged from just how upset I'd been all night.

"I wanted to call because... well. I miss you."