Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 257 -

*Giovani*

I practically ran across the villa to my private offices, slamming the door behind me. The strength it had taken to pull myself away from Olivia was more than I ever would have imagined I possessed. She was naked, pressed against me, moaning as I touched her.

The memory of her skin burned in my brain, her young flesh eager against mine. I could still hear the way her breath caught and the sound of her pleasure. And then she'd frozen on me.

I looked down at the tent I was still pitching and groaned in frustration. It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone, and maybe it was foolish to go after a woman so much younger. It would make more sense to go to a club and bring someone home to release my frustration.

Yet, I was bound to this girl, unable to think of anyone else but her. How had my life changed so drastically in just a matter of a few days? I craved her flesh, ached for it, even though she was too young and immature for me.

But she hadn't seemed young or immature when we spoke last night. She was insightful and bright, funny and charming. She answered every question with grace and didn't mind me prying into her past. She wanted to know everything about life here, to get a crash course on Italian living. And she clearly wanted me as much as I wanted her.

Until she didn't.

Porca puttana, damnit all. I could still smell her skin, the taste of her tongue still swirling around my mouth. Who was this girl to take such a hold of me and make me lose my mind in my own goddamn house? The only thing to do was put as much distance between us as I possibly could. Even if it killed me to do it.

I walked over to my mini bar, pulling out a fine bottle of whiskey. It was aged well, made at a famous distillery in Ireland. I usually saved it for special occasions, but fottimi if I didn't need the smooth liquor to dull my brain at that moment. Fuck me hard.

I sat down in my chair and leaned back slightly, letting the warm liquid make its way into my system. My body relaxed, and I closed my eyes, trying to picture anything but the image of Olivia naked and under me.

As much as I'd been fantasizing that moment since I'd laid eyes on her, I still couldn't believe it had actually happened. It couldn't be the last time. It couldn't end that way. One way or another, I was determined to make her mine, even if it took time. Screw space. I would invade her senses the way she'd invaded mine until she was begging me to take her to bed.

With that settled, I finished my drink and turned on my computer, needing to catch up on some work so today didn't become a total fucking waste. Three sharp raps at the door alerted me of the presence of my right-hand man, Gabriele. It was his signature knock; I knew it by heart. I called for him to enter.

Gabriele was a few years younger than me, a formerly scrappy thief from the streets of Paris. He was skilled, able to talk a fish into buying waterfront property, and once I met him and helped hone his gifts, he became my most trusted colleague.

As he entered my office, I saw his face was grim. Whatever he'd come to tell me, it wasn't good news, and he didn't want to deliver it.

"Gabriele, you look like your younger sister has stolen your spaghetti."

"I do not enjoy spaghetti, and you know this," he answered with a smirk. He crossed the room in his easy lope and slumped down in one of the armchairs. "And I'm sorry to say that my sister is long dead. You're a very inconsiderate man." "Inconsiderate, but generous," I smirked back.

This was our relationship, a constant back and forth of friendly insults and threats. None of them were real, of course, but it helped us blow off steam between the moments of real insults and threats toward others. "But, when you're right, you're right," he finally conceded. "It's not good news at all. There are rumblings in the neighborhood that the Zaytsevs have moved in."

I spat at the ground and cursed, disgusted at the mere mention of their name. They were a dangerous Russian mafia that had slowly been making its way across Europe. I'd never liked the Russians; they were too brutal. What Italians could finesse; they stole by force. They always had to be the most intimidating bullies in the schoolyard.

Not in my town. I'd worked too hard to build our organization into what it was and was willing to crush my enemies when necessary. Other families knew we had the force and manpower, so they knew not to encroach on our territory. These men, though... they did not care about territory. They saw only money and power, not caring about the rules we'd carefully put into place over the last few decades.

"Can you confirm this information is true, for certain?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. This day just kept getting better and better. I could already feel the beginning of a migraine. I'd have to ask Sofia to bring me an espresso. Gabriele shook his head.

"I have not seen them with my own eyes," he said. "I would like to believe that means it isn't true, but either way you need to be aware. If they aren't here yet, it's clear they're feeling out the area to spread roots." "Then we must poison the soil," I tell him seriously. "Do what it takes to show our Russian friends that they are not welcome in Florence. You must keep your ear to the ground, Gabriele."

"I'm a Parisian street rat. I live with my ear to the ground," he joked, but I didn't replace his attitude amusing. He'd brought me this news at the worst possible time, and without any real confirmation of its validity, I didn't know how much mental energy I should grant it.

"Seriously," I said, my face set in a hard line. "You need to replace out all you can. I need locations, times, descriptions of their movement."

"From what I understand now, it's just one man who's made the trek. He's a scout, a pilot fish."

"And where the pilot fish travel, a shark soon appears," I said darkly. "You know my family's history with the Zaytsev family. I will not allow any more bloodshed to take place here. So, as I said, send a clear message to our Russian friend, so he can go back and tell his shark boss to back off."

Gabriele nodded and stood, ever the obedient soldier. I trusted him to take care of this swiftly. Still, the thought of the Zaytsevs in town caused me more anxiety than I'd ever admit to my friend. It had been years since the nastiness had occurred, but I wouldn't forget what they had put my family through. And I would not forgive.

Gabriele left, promising to update me as soon as he could, and I was alone again with nothing but bitter thoughts and a pile of work I didn't even want to look at now. Everything was tainted by the thought of those men.

And then there was Dahlia and Olivia to consider. They were my wards for the summer, and probably into their first semester at uni. Dahlia had no idea about the nasty associations her father once held, and he would kill me if any of this blew back on her, as if I had asked for this to happen.

And as much as I worried about her, my thoughts drifted back to beautiful Olivia, who was even more ignorant of who I was. Would she run from me if she knew the things I'd done in the past to protect my assets? She'd already pushed me away once, but there was every possibility she'd push me away forever.

If she knew the truth, she'd probably catch the first plane to the states, change her name, and go into hiding. And that still wouldn't be enough distance to make me forget the creamy smoothness of her skin underneath my hands. She was so soft and delicate beneath my touch, like a rose petal just in bloom.

And her breasts... fuck me. I would die with the memory of her perky tits engraved on my mind. I'd barely had time to enjoy the look of them before they were pressed against me, but I felt the way her nipples tightened under my touch. I'd wound her up, set her ablaze with my presence.

My pants tightened against my hardening cock, and I unbuttoned them, setting myself free of the prison they were in. Perhaps I wouldn't know her touch on my cock, but I would live off the memory of our interaction and use it to fuel my lustful fantasies. I slid my hand up and down, imagining it was her perfect, plump lips.

In my mind, I saw her eyes, full of lust and wanting. I didn't even have to imagine what that would look like, because I'd seen it so clearly in front of me. I had burned the picture into my memory, making sure I would never forget her lust for me. My lust for her was certainly going nowhere useful.

I pumped into my hand again, remembering the way my name fell from her lips. It had never sounded so sweet, never made my entire body lose control. She'd been so sweet, so new to everything. I wanted to explore every inch of her and replace the secret spots that made her come undone.

My hand moved more quickly, bringing me closer and closer to the needed edge. In my mind, her legs were wrapped around me as they had been, but I was naked too, and I was inside of her. The wicked things this girl could do to me in my imagination... I wondered if I'd ever have the chance to experience her again. I had to replace a way.

There was too much going wrong. She had to be the one thing to go right. The summer was long, stretching out before us like a treasure map. We could explore together, the world and each other, if only she would let me in.

She retained her youthful innocence, untouched by the ugliness of the world, and I would hold it back from her forever if I had to. It was my new mission to show her only beauty and pleasure, so much that it would overwhelm her senses and make her knees weak.