Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 369 -

*Olivia*

It was all a blur. I watched the gorgeous Eiffel Tower from the plane window, standing out against the backdrop of the city as it disappeared from view. It filled me with a sense of loss to see it get smaller and smaller before finally, all I saw were

the clouds below us.

I didn't want to go back home, not when Paris had been so magical-so easy and free.

But life always came knocking once more to cut off the end of the road and drop you back into the story it set for you.

The cabin light dinged when it signaled we were high enough in the air to move around, but neither of us did. Giovani was on his phone, furiously answering calls and redialing numbers as he yelled about things in rapid Italian.

I spoke Italian fairly well now, but even I had a hard time following him with how loud and fast he was spitting out those words. All I knew was that he was angry-very angry.

I stared out the window for the hour-and-a-half-long flight, barely listening to the hums of the jet engines and Giovani's rapidly growing foul language.

I missed Paris already.

When we landed, Giovani was the first out of his seat, shutting his phone with an angry huff as he turned to me. His eyes softened, guilt-ridden like he knew how reluctant I was to go back.

But I just thinned my lips and sucked it up. I stepped off the plane, the pavement a dark hue from the recent rainfall. The smell of rain on the dirt tickled my nose, and I rubbed at it as the men got our luggage.

Giovani didn't waste any time, however, leaving our luggage to his men as he wrapped his arm around my waist, a frown on his lips as he pulled me along by his side. I frowned at the jerkiness of his movements, which were more careless than he usually was when he touched me.

But considering something had happened that was serious enough to bring us back, I didn't blame him for it.

The two of us climbed into the backseat of the car waiting to take us home, and I fumbled with my phone, unhappy with the entire situation. I hadn't taken nearly enough pictures of Paris. Everything had happened in such a blur.

I could only hope we would get to go back soon.

If I had, I was personally holding Giovani responsible.

The ride back was silent as neither of us was willing to discuss things. More than likely, Gio was just distracted, but I was still a bit upset at having to be rushed back to Italy, especially with those maniacs still on the loose and causing problems. I didn't know what they had done now, but judging by the tense atmosphere of Gio's men, it was bad.

The car pulled into the familiar driveway, and I glanced through the tinted windows at the house. It was unchanged like we had just left to get coffee. I don't know what I'd been expecting, perhaps something to be different, but it wasn't. Everything was still the same.

I sighed, getting out of the car as I clutched my phone tightly in my hand. Giovani stormed across the driveway, the door unlocking for him instantly as he entered. I barely caught it to keep it from slamming in my face. The moment I stepped inside, I heard a loud, "Olive!"

I prepared myself as Dahlia came crashing into me with a huge hug.

"I was so worried about you two," Dahlia said softly. "I didn't know if they'd try anything while you were landing or something. I'm so glad you're safe."

Just over Dahlia's shoulder, I saw Giovani hurrying up the stairs and disappearing around the corner. I tried not to be bitter that he hadn't even said a word to me, but now wasn't the time to get hung up on pettiness.

Dahlia's arms squeezed tightly around me, pressing her head into my shoulder as she rambled incoherently. Her massive pile of hair flew right into my face, and I was soon drowning in it.

It looked like she had been affected by the sudden humidity as her hair was now frizzed out badly. I doubt she'd even brushed it, which was alarming, to say the least.

I opened my mouth to reply, but I only got a mouthful of hair. I coughed in surprise, wheezing to step out of her clingy grasp.

"Give her some breathing room, Dahlia," I heard someone say and I flinched, looking behind Dahlia in surprise.

Tallon sent me a small smile, a grim tint to it as he grabbed the back of Dahlia's shirt and pulled her away from me.

"Hey!" Dahlia said, shooting glares at her little brother, but he just shrugged.

I sucked in a breath of fresh air, grimacing at the feeling that some of her hair might've slipped down my throat when I wasn't looking. "Thanks." I smiled at Tallon but he just shrugged, a dark worried look on him. Whatever had happened, he and Dahlia clearly already knew.

That left a bitter taste in my mouth-they got to know, but I was dating the head of the mafia and still didn't have a clue.

Now wasn't the time, I told myself, calming down.

"So what's going on?" I asked, demandingly. Dahlia and Tallon both looked at me in surprise.

"Didn't Gio tell you?" Dahlia asked, cautiously.

"Nope," I said irritatedly.

The two exchanged a look, one of those sibling bond things where they could read each other's minds and have a conversation. As an only child, I had no clue how they were able to do it, but it happened. Tallon flicked his eyes to me, and Dahlia sighed like she had lost a battle of wills. She stepped forward to grab my hands, hesitantly.

All she said, however, was, "Someone was killed."

"Who?" I asked, fearing the answer as squeezed her hands tightly. It couldn't have been someone I knew, right?

Dahlia glanced at the floor, conflicted and unsure as she began to tell me, "This guy on Alessandro's detail. Alessandro and his men were ambushed when they were out. One of their guys died and Alessandro... well, he had to kill the person who did it."

My eyes went wide with shock. I gasped, thrusting my hands over my mouth as I tried to let that sink in. I knew Alessandro was involved with the mafia and even wanted to be the Don one day... and the mafia wasn't exactly known for their clean and legal businesses. But killing someone?

"It was self-defense, Olive," Dahlia told me hurriedly. "I promise he would never do this if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

I couldn't help but think about how upset Tallon had been the first time he'd killed someone, when Dahlia had been in trouble. Now, Alessandro had had to do the same thing. Wouldn't that affect him mentally?

Or maybe I was just being naive.

Clearly, I'd been left in the dark about a lot of details. I thought I knew the people around me, but there were always more secrets with them. Even Dahlia, my best friend, had been keeping things from me my whole life. Who was to say that none of them had killed people before, had ruthlessly murdered someone? I clenched my teeth, unwilling to believe it but knowing deep down that it could be true.

"He's really upset about it too," Dahlia sighed. "He's trying to remain strong, but I know him a lot better than he thinks I do. He's shaken, Olive."

Was he?

Or was he just angry to get revenge, to have more blood spilled on his hands?

I couldn't believe the doubts pouring into my mind, but it was like a flood had crashed open the gates. I was doubting everyone around me now, unsure of anything at this point.

I stepped back from the two of them, wrapping my arms around myself as I struggled not to fall apart, not to take my whirling thoughts and speak them out loud. That would make them too real.

Dahlia's face fell with hurt as I glanced away from her, but I couldn't bring myself to comfort her right now, not when I felt like I was crumbling like an ancient tomb.

"Is this normal, too?" I asked, my voice low. Even I flinched at the bitterness in my voice. "Is this just another day, too? How many people have you killed in self-defense?" "Olivia," Tallon said sharply as Dahlia bit her bottom lip, her eyes shining with tears.

"Never," she whispered, shaking her head firmly. "I've never... I... I'm just as scared as you are, Olive. I've never been involved with something like this, not as an adult. Even when I was just a kid, things were never this bad." "Look, Gio has got this handled," Tallon said, his voice cutting like a knife as he wrapped Dahlia into a hug. He reached one arm out for me but I shook my head, taking another step back. Sadness flickered in his eyes, but he seemed to understand that I couldn't deal with it, not right now.

"We're all going to be safe, I promise," Tallon reassured us the best he could, but all I could think was how silver his tongue was. "I know how Alessandro feels. This is never easy." How easily he could lie to me-to us-about being safe?

I was so exhausted. Everything felt so heavy to me like gravity had increased on everyone but me. I was tired of fighting and anger and everything. I didn't want to deal with any of this.

But Paris was so far away now. Like a dream that faded the moment you woke up, I could barely remember it now.

"I need some time alone," I said softly, clutching my trembling hands around myself as I headed straight for the room I shared with Gio. I shut the door behind me, feeling like I was truly made of porcelain.

I was cracked and battered, and instead of bruising, the pieces flaked off and shattered upon the ground. I needed something, anything, to keep me from falling apart completely.

I rushed to the kitchenette, opened the top cabinet, and pushed all the bags of snacks out of the way. I had seen Gio use this cabinet once, and I knew he hid things behind the chips and pretzels.

I pushed on the wood and it popped open, letting me pull it out. The snacks fell to the floor, but my eyes landed on the jackpot.

A bottle full of whiskey stared back at me. I grabbed it, rushing to the bed, where I plugged in my phone on the nightstand. I opened the bottle, and the smell was enough to make me crinkle my nose at it.

It was very potent, but I steeled my nerves and took a swig. Immediately, the liquid turned to fire when it hit my throat.

I flew into a coughing fit, the scorching in my throat making me realize what a terrible idea this truly was. I felt terrible, and salty tears flowed from my eyes as I bit down on my tongue. I put the lid back on and dropped the whiskey onto the mattress, careful not to spill it as I climbed under the covers.

I grabbed my phone on instinct, my fingers fumbling for the one person I really needed right now.

"Hello?" The caller picked up after two rings, and I nearly sobbed in relief at hearing her voice.

"Mom?" I asked, my voice hoarse and croaking like a toad.

"Olivia?" Alarm grew in her voice. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you sick? I told you to take care of yourself-"

"I'm fine, Mom." I lied, ignoring the sting in my throat from the whiskey. "I just... I wanted to ask... would be so bad if I came home?"

The phone fell dead silent on the other end and tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn't take it if she said no, if she told me I couldn't come back home.

"Olivia," she said softly, "you are always welcome to come back anytime you want. You're my daughter, and I love you."

I sighed in relief, but the conflict in my heart didn't disappear like I thought it would. Even as my mind started comparing airlines in my head, I knew something didn't feel right. Shouldn't I be more happy about this?

It's what I wanted, wasn't it? I didn't want to miss the rest of the semesters of classes, but right now, that wasn't the most important thing on my mind.

"That said," Mom sighed, "I want you to be honest with me. Is that what would really make you happy, Olivia?"

I paused, no answer coming to mind.

Would that make me happy?

"I... I don't know," I admitted, unsure.

"You'd better replace that out before you make that decision then," Mom said softly. "It's your life, Olivia. Don't leave any regrets, okay?"

She was right, I realized. Leaving like this, without any discussion or warning, felt wrong. I couldn't do it.

I nodded in response, then realized she couldn't see me through the phone.

"Yeah," I told her. "Thanks for making me feel better, Mom."

"No problem, baby. Call me anytime you like."

I smiled as the call ended, and I breathed out.

I had to decide whether it was worth it to stay or better to leave.