Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 433 -

*Olivia*

Fuses sizzled behind my eyes, and my whole body visibly shook as I practically threw my paintbrush at the canvas. The paint of mixed reds and purples splashed across my cheeks, but I didn't care.

I felt like a woman on a warpath as I took every stupid emotion I had and slapped it onto the stretched-out piece of textile. The table underneath had already taken some battle damage from the aftershock as each explosion of color spilled over. If I lifted up the canvas, there would no doubt be an imprint from where it had been lying.

My painting wasn't even good-just a mishmash of colors thrown everywhere, lights and darks competing on either corner, spreading and stretching. If you looked closely, maybe you could see a face in the middle, but otherwise, it was just blobs.

My fingers trembled as I held the old brush in my hand. It was falling apart due to being left in paint cleaner too many times, but it did the job.

I dipped into the black a little too harshly, the whole palette sitting next to me tipping over and crashing onto the floor.

"Fuck!" I cried, falling to my knees as I peeled the palette from the hardwood floor. The paint smeared together on the floor in a dark color that I couldn't even name.

It would stain.

My arms and hands were covered in harsh colors, clashing together in an ugly way, and I couldn't help but think that if my mom had seen the piece I had just created, or if anyone saw it, what would they think of me?

My heart was broken down and thrown at the canvas like bombs raining down on a city. I had finally exploded, coating everything in the ugly shade of color that I was.

I gripped the palette in my hands, my body trembling, and as my eyes went blurred up until all I could see were vague shapes, I wondered why there was paint dripping onto the palette.

I hung my head, sitting on the floor of the art studio Gio had gifted to me, shame coating my fingers, and despite the bottles of paint I had left open and sprawled across the table, everything was just a dull shade of gray to me now.

It took longer than I wanted to admit to pick myself up off the floor and attempt to clean up. It was soothing in a way, the simple movements of sealing the paint back up, cleaning the spills, and dropping my brushes into the paint cleaner, even though I knew they would probably stay there overnight and ruin them again.

I was right-the floor was going to be stained. But so was the table. Not even elbow grease could remove the splatters, and the more I tried to erase them, the uglier they became. Eventually, I had to give up.

The paint had dried up and down my hands and arms, feeling like plaster coating them as I trudged back to the room I shared with my husband. The frustration and hurt had faded away to exhaustion, leaving me empty inside. And maybe, if my day ended there, I could've curled up in bed and drifted away. I could've picked up the pieces of myself with the morning and gone on pretending like nothing was wrong. Those feelings would still be there, but I would be okay.

But things didn't always go as I planned.

I halted in the doorway to my bedroom, glancing at the long-legged figure sprawled out across the bed. His legs hung off the edge, and the only reason I knew he was still alive was the way his chest rose and fell in rhythm.

It was late, and I wasn't in the mood for another fight. He insisted he was just trying to protect our baby when I saw something else between him and Elena.

I stepped quietly inside, heading to the closet as I picked out some comfortable clothes. I heard the shifting behind me on the bed, and I could practically feel his eyes boring into me.

"Where were you?"

His voice was quiet but rough, accusing.

I bristled like an animal under attack. "Painting."

"Dahlia told me you ran off today."

"And?" I said, my voice like ice as I plucked one of my many shirts from the closet, turning around to face my husband with a bundle of clothes in my arms. Flakes of dried paint were already beginning to peel off and fall to the ground like glitter.

He sent me an irritated look. "I'm not in the mood for games today, Olivia. Dahlia chewed me out, and then I had to stop her from verbally assaulting our guest! What the fuck did you say to her? I had to send Elena back in tears!" Whatever he should've said, it wasn't that.

"Sorry then," I sneered, my body tensing up as my anger boiled over the top and overflowed. "I didn't mean to ruin your date."

I pivoted on my heel, not even listening anymore as I stormed to the bathroom.

"Olivia!" he growled, getting to his feet as he chased after me. No matter how fast I was, Gio was always able to catch me before I could run.

"What is wrong with you?" His grip on my arm was harsh, and I knew there would be a bruise in the morning, even if he didn't seem to care at the moment. I glared at him, tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. "I'm tired of you picking fights with me over every little thing! Elena is carrying our baby! That's all it is! How many times do I have to go over this?"

I ripped my arm from his grip, my back hitting the wall. "Stop treating me like I'm crazy!" I screamed back. "I'm not! I have to sit there and watch it all every time she comes over-watching you hold her and letting her get so close to you! I'm your wife, not her, so why can't you ever take my side?"

My breath came out in heavy gasps as I tried not to break down. The broken shards of my heart were sharp, and they were cutting into me with every beat. Why couldn't he see I was drowning, losing myself in the sea of hurt and frustration? "Olivia, we've been over this." He sighed. "There's nothing going on between me and Elena. She's not the enemy here. You're just overreacting again."

I choked on my own gasp, unable to breathe as my whole body trembled, and he wrapped his long arms around me, pulling my dead weight into his chest.

The scent of roses hit my nose, perfume that I didn't wear, and it smothered me with the stench, invading my lungs like a poison. I balled his suit into my hands, wrinkling it as my eyes leveled out with the pocket on his right side. Sitting inside was a white flower, untouched from all the chaos and still protected.

And I was suffocating, a scream stuck in my throat as the flecks of paint brushed against his black suit, leaving smears of the ugly color all over his jacket.

I had been pushed far past my limit. I couldn't stay here anymore.

I placed my hands on Gio's chest and ignored the way he pressed a kiss to my forehead like always-like nothing was happening and before he could react, before he could grab me and hold onto me, I pushed with all of my weight. Gio stumbled back, letting go of me to catch himself, and I stared him straightin the eye, feeling like a broken marionette. Silent tears streamed down my face as I whispered, "I can't do this."

His eyes widened, and I heard him call out my name as I rushed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I pushed out of the suite and ran down the hall, unable to see anything through the harsh tears stinging my eyes as I fled. I ran straight out the front door, slamming it behind me, and finally took a deep breath of the fresh air outside.

"Olivia?" Dahlia glanced at me with wide, shocked eyes, standing at the end of the walkway with a car just behind her. The driver had only just gotten out of the front seat, and with the tight black dress she had on, she had probably come back from a club or bar.

She rushed to my side, pulling my paint-stained arms from my side as she gently laid her palm on my cheek. "Olivia, what's wrong? Talk to me. Why are you out here? Where are your shoes?"

I opened my lips to respond, but instead of words, an outpour of sobs came flooding out, and I fell into her arms, crying louder than I ever had before. My wails were loud and harsh, not pretty in the slightest.

"Oh, Olivia," she sighed, rubbing my back as I screamed all of the emotions I had been bottling up into her chest. "You don't want to stay here?"

Her voice was so soft and gentle, and I shook my head as an answer.

"All right, let's go then, I'll take you somewhere safe," Dahlia said determinedly. "Hey, get back in the car! We're leaving!"

She guided me down the walkway briskly, and I was lucky it was well-maintained from the way the concrete was buried into my bare feet. She led me to the waiting car, and it roared to life as I settled inside. I flinched as the front door slammed open, and Gio came running outside with a panicked look.

"What the fuck-"I heard him snarl, but Dahlia shut the door before I could hear anything else. I stared at my arms in silence, and I sent the driver a shaky smile as he put on the radio, drowning out the arguments.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it wasn't pretty, and soon enough, Dahlia rounded the car and settled in beside me, slamming the car door shut in a huff.

"Let's go," she demanded, crossing her arms.

I glanced out the tinted windows as the car began to move, and I saw Gio standing there, a look of utter devastation on his face as he watched us leave. I swallowed, shutting my eyes and apologizing silently to him.

I needed time and space to get myself together-to process everything I'd been trying to hold back and regain the composure I had lost.

I sighed, leaning my head on Dahlia's shoulder. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it for comfort, and I was thankful to have her by my side.

Dahlia stopped by a few places, and I dozed off in the car before we arrived at a fancy hotel. I let her drag me inside, and she practically shoved me into the bathroom with a whole variety of products.

I took a shower, making sure to get all the dried paint off. I slid out of the bathroom feeling like a brand new person and a thousand times like my old self.

Dahlia whistled as she spotted me in the halter-top dress she had bought.

I was happy with it myself, and I grinned, running my hands down the tight waist and the skirt clearly made for twirling. It was black on the outside, but the underside of the skirt was a bright red. With the strapless heels she'd bought me, it was a perfect match. Dahlia did my hair and makeup, covering up the remnants of my tears until I couldn't even tell I had been such a mess an hour ago.

My phone burst to life on the bed, ringing with the same tone it had the past four times, and I glanced at it, guilty.

"Maybe I should-"I started, softly.

"Nope. You need this," she told me, pulling my face away from the phone and brushing the mascara wand through my eyelashes. "So don't think about everything else. Just have fun tonight, all right?" Once she was done, she grabbed my phone, powdering it down.

"I have mine, so we'll be okay," she told me, grinning. "Now let's go paint the town."

I nodded, sending my phone one last glance. I needed a break for now. I should've explained more clearly, maybe, but I couldn't have stayed there.

I had to take care of myself right then, to take the time to reflect and recharge. I was a person away from Giovani, and I had forgotten that a little bit. Some time away would remind me, I was sure of it. "Let's go," I said determinedly.

I couldn't rely on Giovani or the baby to make myself happy. I had control over my own happiness, and it was time I remembered that, even if it meant losing a bit of my husband in the process.