Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 411 -

*Giovani* "Alright, can you send them to me?" I asked through the phone. "Okay, yes. Thank you very much. Arrivederci."

I hung up the phone, tossing it onto the bed next to me as I stretched out my arms. My bones creaked with the effort, and I groaned, rubbing my shoulder. I was getting way too old, and it was showing. Past injuries came back to haunt me, and my muscles weren't as kind to me as they once were.

It had been a lazy day, and the evening sun filtered through the open window, casting long shadows on the bed as I waited there with my back against the headboard and my laptop on my lap. The heat had been increasing the longer I kept it open, the vents working overtime, but I didn't mind.

There was a notification on my laptop followed by a ding, and I grinned, diving into my email. Sure enough, the top spot had an unread email from Surrogazione Generazionale, the surrogacy center we had chosen.

Compressed files were tucked inside, containing all the information I had wanted to know. I waited for the files to download as I scrolled through the folder they sent. It popped up once it was done. "Elena Greco," it said at the top-the surrogate Olivia had chosen after meeting her. She was younger than I thought, only 22, which was pretty close to Olivia's own age. No wonder they got along so well.

This was her first surrogacy; she was a volunteer for a few programs and a graduate from the University of Florence. I made a note to check her school records and delved deeper into the program. Her medical records were squeaky clean, with only a broken arm from a fall and a few cases of a cold, but nothing else.

There was no history of mental or physical illness in her family. She came from a lower-class background; her mother had worked at a diner for fifteen years, and her father was out of the picture.

I frowned as I noticed the similarities between her and Olivia. It was a bit odd, but nothing to really raise any red flags. For all intents and purposes, she seemed like a normal girl just looking to do her part to make the world a better place, as she had stated in the section of her candidacy interview.

I grabbed my phone, and the dial tone hit my ear before it was picked up with a gruff, "Yes?"

"I'm going to send you some files on our surrogate. Vet her as thoroughly as you can," I told him, quickly forwarding the email. "I want to know if she's had so much as a speeding ticket."

"Yes, sir," Gabriele said readily. "Anything else? You want a frappuccino with two sugars and three shots of caramel_"

I hung up, not even bothering with his sarcastic attitude. A text came in soon after with only a word from Gabriele. 'Rude.'

'Get over it,' I wrote back and then tossed my phone onto the bed with a chuckle. He was always yanking my chain.

I pulled up the forms for the surrogacy contract, filling them out both as detailed and as vaguely as possible. I made sure only Olivia's number was given to the surrogate and not mine.

I double and then triple-checked that my number was nowhere listed and sent them off to Surrogazione Generazionale. Olivia had left me to do the boring paperwork by myself, but I didn't really mind. I was too cautious to leave it alone anyway.

I had to make sure everything went smoothly, for Olivia, and for our unborn child. Nothing untoward could happen. But I also had to make sure not to go too far.

If I started putting bugs in Elena's phone or car, I had no doubt that if Olivia found out, she'd tear me a new one. She already thought I was too clingy with her, but she didn't realize how much freedom I truly gave her.

She had me wrapped around her finger, and she hardly knew it. Before I did anything, I had to keep Olivia's feelings in mind. Happy wife, happy life-that's what James told me before we got married. He probably only meant it in a teasing way, but I had seen firsthand the chaos an angry woman could bring to a man's life.

If Olivia wanted to, she could make my life a living hell, and I couldn't do shit about it because I was putty in her hand. Not that she would ever want to.

I sighed, shutting my laptop and pushing it off me onto the bed. I rubbed my forehead as I felt a bit of pressure building. My headaches were getting fewer and fewer since Dmitri's death, but the occasional one still popped up... stress, most

likely.

"Gio!"

I grinned as Olivia came skipping into the bedroom, her face lit up with happiness. It was like looking straight into the sun, and I almost couldn't bear it. I leaned my head on my hand, giving her a grin as she plopped straight onto the bed. She fell backward onto the mattress, her head hitting my lap as she grinned up at me like she had won the lottery.

"Yes?" I chuckled, brushing her long locks away from her face.

"Look!" she said, thrusting her phone into my face.

I squinted to read it, but before I could, she had pulled it back to her chest, beginning to ramble in excitement.

"Elena sent me a message! She wants to know if I want to go out for lunch tomorrow, just the two of us, to get to know each other better," Olivia told me cheerfully.

"Sounds nice," I replied, humoring her. It was a good thing if the two of them could build a good relationship. With how excited they seemed to be when they met one another at the agency, I had no doubt they would become close friends soon enough.

My wife was just that lovable.

"Is that okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing at my tepid response.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" I asked in surprise.

"I don't want you to feel upset about getting left behind or get jealous that it'll just be me and her. We can meet her together if you want to—"

"Olivia." I placed my hands on her cheeks, smiling down at her upside-down face as she gazed up at me from my lap. "I'm not going to get jealous. I want you to like her and feel comfortable with her. It'll be better to do that when I'm not there."

"That's not true," she pouted. "You're very likable."

"To you," I chuckled. "But I can be intimidating, and this seems like a great way for the two of you to bond without me there. She'll be more comfortable opening up to just you since you're around the same age and have similar interests. I'd just be a tagalong."

"You're not intimidating," she crossed her arms over her chest, looking very cross, "You're just a big teddy bear who loves way too much. You're overprotective sometimes, but that's just like a teddy bear too!"

I laughed, shaking my head at the description. Only she would describe me, a six-foot middle-aged Italian mafia boss, as a big teddy bear.

"Thank you, carina." I kissed her forehead, and she beamed, grabbing my hand from her cheeks and lacing our fingers together. "But you and Elena can take this one by yourselves. Get to know her, and then tell me all about it later, okay?" "Okay," she nodded, agreeable for once.

"But," I said, a warning in my tone, "I still want a few guards to go with you."

"See?" she huffed, pulling herself onto her knees and turning to face me with a stubborn look. "Overprotective teddy bear."

"Three guards," I sent her a firm no-nonsense look.

"One," she said stubbornly.

"Three."

"Half of one."

I cringed at the image. "Two," I compromised.

"Deal!" she grinned, reaching out to cling onto my shoulders. She scooted onto my lap, letting me hold her sideways as she sighed happily, replaceing her favorite spot in the crook of my neck.

I glanced at her adoringly, my heart full of so much love for this damn woman I could hardly bear it. Everything she did was like she had been made just for me. And with how tightly she clung to me, anyone would look at this scene and say that she was more of a teddy bear than me.

I was a lot less cuddly.

"When you meet Elena," I reminded her, hooking my thumb under her chin. Our eyes met in a clash of brown and blue, "don't tell her about the troubles we've had these past few months, especially about Dmitri or the Zaytsevs. We don't want to scare her away if you really end up liking her." I know she knew that, but it bore saying again.

She nodded, her good mood sobering up as she no doubt remembered everything Dmitri had put us through. I tightened my hold on her, hoping to give her the slightest bit of comfort.

The nightmares had dissipated since his death, but they still hadn't completely disappeared. Every once in a while, she'd wake up in a cold sweat, mumbling mine or Dahlia's name. I'd hold her just like this while she cried into my chest, until eventually, she'd cry herself back to sleep.

Even if he was gone now, the remnants of what he had done still lingered like a dark shadow over our lives. I would have done anything to be able to take that away from her, but there was nothing I could do. "You're right," she said calmly, "I don't want her to get involved in anything that happened. It should stay in the past where it belonged. But that means...."

She pinned me with a firm stare. "Don't you start anything fishy until after our child is born, do you hear me?"

I grinned widely, the tone reminding me of Becca whenever she used to scold the kids for being naughty. She already had that down pat.

"You're going to be an amazing mom," I kissed her forehead.

She blushed, her cheeks turning red as she shyly looked away. "Thanks, Gio, for everything. I really mean it."

As she looked up at me with wide, trusting eyes, her sincerity overflowed like rainfall in a desert storm.

"Well," I replied, grinning as my fingers dipped under her shirt, "You don't have to thank me just yet."

"Gio!" I swallowed her giggles, groaning into her sweet little mouth.

I ran my calloused hands under her shirt, feeling her cool, smooth skin as I traced them up to her bra. It took no effort at all to unlatch it, and she giggled into the kiss, allowing me a moment to break away. With her shirt pulled up to expose her navel, her bra halfway off already, and her lips swollen from our kiss, there was nothing more beautiful than my wife.

And she was all mine.