Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 277 -

*Olivia*

I kept my eyes on the clock as I waited in Giovani's bed. When ten minutes passed by, I finally stepped out, dropping the blanket. I rushed into the bathroom to grab my clothes, pulling on my hoodie, and stuffing my underwear into the oversized pockets.

I pulled the ends of the hoodie down, hoping it hid enough and nobody saw me. I cracked open the door, my eyes trailing down the hallway before I opened it softly.

It was completely empty, with not a sound of anyone there.

I breathed out, relieved, as I crept into the hallway with light steps, and gently shut Giovani's door behind me. I checked both sides of the hallway again, paranoid that somebody would walk around the corner and see me at any minute. I grabbed the ends of my hoodie and rushed to my own room, throwing open the door and shutting it behind me.

My back to the door, I sighed, relaxing now that I was in my own space. I threw off the hoodie, letting it fall to the floor as I headed for the dresser. I pulled out a simple T-shirt and some shorts, which were comfortable and not nearly as revealing as the hoodie with no pants.

I slipped into my underwear first and then pulled on my clothes. I flipped my hair out of the way and headed for my bathroom.

Due to having slept last night without brushing it and then not having dried it after the shower this morning, my hair was a tangled mess. I stared into the bathroom mirror as I ran my brush through it, detangling it to the best of my ability. Once I was done, I sat at the vanity in the corner of my room and did my makeup. I never used much makeup, and I only owned a few items including asimple eyeshadow palette, but I wanted to look a little special.

I pulled out the eyeliner and brushed it across my top lids, but my hands weren't as steady as they usually were, so I slipped.

"Shit," I cursed, dropping the eyeliner.

A black line was smudged across my face, horrible and ugly. I sighed. Dahlia was so much better at this. She was a genius with makeup, and I couldn't help but miss her now. She'd be able to do this with her eyes closed. No matter how much I tried, I just didn't have the talent for free-handing eyeliner.

I cleaned it up, forgoing it today as I did the minimum, and then I considered myself done. As I gazed into the mirror, however, I couldn't help hating what I saw.

The area under my eyes was slightly red still, swollen from how much I'd been crying last night. In addition, I was a shade or two paler than normal; my skin looked like a ghost who hadn't seen sunlight.

Even with makeup and brushed hair, I was far from the beauty I wanted to see. I sighed, turning away from the mirror in disgust.

I grabbed my phone from where I had left it charging last night. I frowned as I spotted eleven missed calls on the front screen.

I winced as I saw that ten of them were from my mother and one was from my mother's new husband. The last call had been fifteen minutes ago. I knew my mother, and she was not a patient person.

I hoped she hadn't called the police by now as I hit her ID and placed the phone to my ear.

I sat on the edge of the bed as the phone rang once, twice, thrice. I heard a click as it went straight to voice messaging.

So much for that. She'd call me back when she got the time.

I sighed, unplugging my phone from the charger and getting to my feet. My stomach rumbled as I realized how little I had eaten last night.

I'd been more concerned with getting away from Adrian than I was with eating, especially since he'd ordered me a ravioli mushroom plate. I hated mushrooms with a burning passion.

Still, though, even if I didn't like Adrian, I hoped he was okay too. I didn't know if he was missing like Dahlia was, but I hoped not.

My rumbling stomach led me to head down to the kitchen. But as I descended the stairs, I heard the clinking of dishes and someone moving around in the kitchen.

I entered, wary of any intruders, only to spot one of the maids preparing to cook. She moved around the kitchen with familiarity, and I frowned as I spotted her taking a steaming dish out of the oven.

All kinds of dishes lined the table, and the scents brushed over me...salty meats and sweets. It was dizzying at how much food had been piled up.

"What's going on?" I asked curiously.

The maid jumped, turning to me with wide eyes.

"Oh, signorina," the tall Italian woman said, grasping a hand over her heart like I had startled her.

I felt a little bad for scaring her.

"I am preparing for lunch. We have guests coming today."

"Guests?" I frowned, "Who?"

"The young master," she said happily, like I would know who that was.

I had always found it a little weird how the maids in this place referred to Giovani as the "master." We weren't living in the Victorian era, but I guessed they did things differently here. Rich people sure were different.

As I glanced at the spread on the table, I felt a little nauseous at the thought of eating any of the heavier foods. Sausages and sandwiches were nice, but I wasn't a hundred percent today. I needed something lighter.

"If you're done, do you mind if I make myself some food? Just something a little more simple," I asked her with a frown. "I'm not feeling too great today."

"Oh, of course, signorina. Preparations are done anyway. Please."

She stepped to the side, and I smiled kindly at her as I headed straight for the pantry.

I debated only for a tiny bit before grabbing a loaf of bread. I cut two slices of bread and stuck them into the toaster. Bread was different in Italy than it was in th US. This was fresh.

A little toast sounded wonderful right now.

I headed for the fancy coffee machine Giovani had bought. He preferred making his own from actual beans, but Dahlia and I were American. We had simpler tastes.

As the coffee brewed, my toast dinged, and I wiped some butter on it, grabbed my coffee and sat down at the island.

I only made it through one piece of bread and a bite of the other before I was full. I'd never been a big eater to begin with, but today I was even less so. I sipped on my coffee instead, breathing a sigh of relief as the caffeine went straight to my brain.

I was already feeling more awake by the time my phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered, not even glancing at the caller.

"Olivia!" My mother's worried voice poured out from the phone. "Where have you been? Are you okay? I've called you so many times, and you didn't answer! I was worried sick about you!"

I smiled, relieved to hear her. I missed her and my stepdad a lot, especially right now.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I apologized. "I left my phone in the other room, and I didn't see your calls until I woke up. I kinda slept in late."

"You need to be more responsible, young lady! I about panicked when I couldn't get in contact with you. Your father had to stop me from calling the police!"

I chuckled, the image of my stepdad probably hiding her phone from her to stop her a little funny. She'd always been overly worried about me, probably because I was her only child. She could be a bit overprotective sometimes. "Sorry, Mom. I just...."

I trailed off, not sure how to tell her about everything that happened.

"I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, baby." She sighed, and I felt the heat of tears welling up in my eyes.

God, I missed her so much. I wished she was here so she could wrap me up in her arms like when I was a child.

But this wasn't a case of skinning my knee or getting lost in the department store. This was much worse than that.

"Dahlia... she..." I choked on my own voice, the words not coming out like I wanted them to. Saying it would make it feel too real.

"I know," my mom said sadly. "Why didn't you call me as soon as you heard? I've been losing my mind worried about you girls. I wish you had told me. Are you okay at least?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I've just been in shock. I feel lost without her, Mom. I'm so worried all the time about what's happening to her and if she'll come back-"

"Hush now, none of that," my mom cut through, that no-nonsense tone in her voice. "Now listen to me, Olivia. I may not have given birth to her, but I helped raise that girl. Dahlia's a fighter, always has been. You got to believe in her, baby."

"I know," I chuckled, remembering how many times Dahlia had proven how strong she was. When I'd gotten bullied in elementary school, she'd chased the boys around by threatening to give them cooties.

When a kid pushed me in the mud, she'd jumped right in after me and called it a "spa day." Dahlia had always been there for me, strong and proud. It was time for me to return that strength.

"I talked to that man, Giovani, was it?" my mom continued, a bit of a stern tone to her voice. "He told me what happened, but he hasn't been as forthcoming as I'd like."

"He's been very kind to me, Mom." The defense shot out before I had time to stop it, and I grimaced at how I sounded. "He's just a bit stressed. He's doing everything he can to replace Dahlia and keep me safe."

"I know, I know," my mom sighed. "But I'm still worried about you. I don't want anything to happen to you, too, Olivia. That's why I think you should come home."

"Mom," I gasped. "I'm not going to just up and leave, not while Dahlia's still missing."

"Olivia, there is nothing you can do for Dahlia right now. It's best to leave this to the professionals. Dahlia would never want you to stay there if it meant you were in danger, and neither do I. That's why you need to come home." I swallowed uncomfortably, my gaze trailing upstairs to where Giovani was in his study.

I didn't want to leave Dahlia, that was true, but I also didn't want to leave Giovani. I wanted to see this through to the end, no matter how much danger it might put me in.

"Sorry, Mom, but I'm not leaving, not until Dahlia's with me," I said, determinedly.

She sighed heavily, and I knew that for the moment I had won. "We'll talk about this later, Olivia," she said. 'I love you. Be safe."

"Love you, too," I said, ending the phone call.

Just as I set my phone on the counter, I heard the sound of the door opening, and I stiffened, whirling my gaze to the kitchen entrance.

"Anybody home?" a familiar voice called out.

It couldn't be.

A tall figure appeared with sunglasses on his aristocratic face. His Italian descent was obvious even from far away as he stepped into the kitchen. His lips curled into a bright grin as he threw open his arms in greeting. "Hey, Livi!" he grinned. "Did you miss me?"

"Tallon?" I asked, dumbfounded.

It was Dahlia's younger brother.