Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 488 -

*Salvatore*

I scrubbed my sweaty palms down my pants and took a deep breath. Lorenz had called me and said we needed to meet. Nothing good ever came of meeting with the boss. I'd learned that the fucking hard way. Worse, he had a hardline no- weapons policy for these meets.

Now I sat in my crappy car, staring at a warehouse I could barely see because of the broken streetlight in front of the door. "Fuck," I muttered.

I knew about Stefan's little hit, and I knew about the Valentino retaliation. There was no getting around the fact that this cold war was starting to become quite a bit hotter than I preferred. If I had my druthers, I'd have pulled up stakes and hit the road by now. That was what anybody smart should have been doing.

I wiped my hands again. I didn't exactly have my druthers. My assistance was the only thing keeping Olivia out of the crossfire. I knew I'd never be a dad worth writing home about, but that didn't mean I wanted to sign her death warrant. And that kid of hers was cuter than I would've guessed.

"Fuck it." I clambered out of my car and headed for the warehouse door. I couldn't feel any Italian eyes on my back, but something had happened since Stefan caught one of them. They'd gotten slicker. I couldn't be certain they weren't watching me now.

One light on, second floor of the warehouse-Lorenz had only given me the address, but I knew I'd replace him there. I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to whistle as I strolled forward as if that would trick anyone with half a brain in their head.

The door opened smoothly on oiled hinges, despite the rust I could feel crackling under my palm. It was a proper safehouse then. I burned the address into my memory and headed upstairs.

Light glimmered from under the shut door. All around me, rotted, ruined shelves and packages slumped. The place looked abandoned, except for that one light. I knocked.

"Come in," answered a low voice I recognized, thick with a Russian accent.

I pushed open the door and found myself in a ramshackle studio apartment. I'd seen squats like this all across Europe, spent more evenings than I'd like on beds identical to the creaky cot in the corner. All you needed was one abandoned office and the ability to install a couple of pretty good locks. Lorenz sat on a folding chair with his arms crossed, but that wasn't what caught my attention.

No, all I could look at was Elio, drooling on himself in a cheap-looking car seat next to a pink box of over-the-counter antihistamines.

"You promised-" I said.

Lorenz waved his hand. "I promised you the girl, and you know it. Don't go asking for things you haven't earned." He glanced at the car seat. "He's only drugged. Misha didn't even jostle him in transit. I'm not planning on hurting the little heir anyway." He smiled. "Currently."

I straightened up. The bulky Russian might be the sort of broody asshole I'd never interact with under normal circumstances, but he stood between me and my payday.

"Sounds good." I nodded. "What's the plan with the kid, then?"

Lorenz flicked out a knife and began cleaning his nails. "Bait."

I swallowed. I hadn't cared about the kid. It didn't matter that he had the thickest hair I'd ever seen on a kid his age, or the exact same way of smiling when he found something new that Olivia had as a baby. I'd made the deal for my daughter. I knew she had a kid then, and I didn't say shit about him.

I couldn't go soft just because he kept holding onto my finger like he didn't want me to leave.

"And the trap?" I asked.

"That's why you're here." Lorenz grinned. "It's time for you to step out of the shadows."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making another expression.

"I would like you," he said, pointing the knife at me, "to contact Giovani, on something untraceable. Let him know that if he ever wants to see his son again, he has to come to your house alone within twenty-four hours."

I nodded. The plan was solid. Giovani tended to get reckless when people endangered things he loved. He'd come charging into my apartment like a bull in Pamplona, and Lorenz could spring whatever he wanted around him. "What about his right hand? He's gonna try to stop him." I crossed my arms.

Lorenz chuckled. "If I remember correctly, ladder-climbing is what got you in trouble at your last job." He met my gaze, and his voice became sharp. "Don't think, Salvatore. It doesn't become you."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. This was how I liked things, I reminded myself. I wanted to be a grunt, to take orders and not think twice. I liked the freedom of being able to cut and run when my boss got in over his head. It was what had kept me alive these last twenty years.

But somehow, I wasn't cutting. I wasn't running. I was staring at a dogshit car seat with my drugged grandson inside and trying to figure out if I had anything else to say to stick around a little longer.

"Any other complaints?" Lorenz asked. "Or can I expect you to actually do what you're ordered one of these days?"

Anger flushed my veins. I'd never been able to tolerate condescension.

"Let's get one thing straight." I took a step forward. "You may have my money, but I don't belong to you. When you say jump, I say in a minute." I balled my fists. "That's how it's gonna be unless you want to lose me right before the game wraps up."

Lorenz simply smiled and rocked Elio's car seat with the tip of his knife. "I can run this game without you. Leave if you want. Call if you don't."

I swallowed. The threat to Elio was clear. "I'll call in the morning. Let him sweat."

Lorenz smiled wide. "Perfect."

I turned and marched out of the safe house, and down to my car. I started the old piece of shit and drove half a mile before my brain kicked back on.

I'd just shown my hand to the soon-to-be king of Florence, a man with the resources to hunt me down from here across most of Asia. Worse, I let myself have a hand to show.

My car sailed through a red light amidst a flurry of honks. I slammed my hand down on my horn.

"Fuck you!" I screamed out the window. "Fuck your mom, fuck your car, and fuck this goddamn city!"

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, whipping through the tiny Italian streets. I'd spent a good couple of years as a wheelman, and nothing relaxed me quite like testing my skills.

My hand itched for a bottle of something, but I took this car to see Olivia, so I kept all my vices elsewhere. I didn't even have a goddamn cigarette.

Olivia was gonna fucking hate me, if she didn't already. She hadn't answered any of my calls or texts since Gio had caught me in Elio's room.

The worst fucking part was that, sure, I'd wandered off to get better plans of the house, but I'd genuinely been drawn in by Elio's room. I hadn't been spying or anything, just imagining what it must be like to grow up in a room like that, so beautiful and full of toys.

I swung a hard left, taking the long way home. It'd be faster in the long run-less crowded roads, fewer cops. I could outrun damn near anyone, but I didn't want to know what Lorenz would have to say about that.

This was what I got for getting in bed with fucking Russians. I'd worked for half the families in Europe once or twice when they reached out, and no one had a good word to say about them. Vicious, they said, unforgiving, willing to go to lengths that turned the stomachs of some of the hardest motherfuckers I knew. I should've laughed in their faces and-

And what? Gone back to making pocket change? The truth was, Lorenz offered me a deal I never could've refused, and now I had to pay the fucking piper.

Any hope of seeing Olivia after this had been a pipe dream anyway. She was sweeter than her mom, but Gio had her ear long before me, and I just knew he told her everything. He always would've figured me out, and that always would've been the end of it. I wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd forgive me, not after everything Dmitri did to the Valentinos.

I drifted through another turn, the speedometer pushing one-sixty. It was better this way, clean. I didn't have to worry about being presentable enough to see her, or if any ill-timed phone call might be her. I'd spring the trap, blow the city, and she could go back to hating me like she had before.

I spun into my driveway and threw the car in park, grinding the engine. What difference did it make? I had two days left in the city, and my crap-ass car couldn't really get any more crap-ass in that time. I turned it off, climbed out, and slammed the door behind me.

Without the roar of my straining engine, the sounds of the city at night filtered in around me-a few cars, laughter, faint music from a few doors over.

This city was too goddamn quiet. I missed New York, where you couldn't hear yourself think if you wanted to. Maybe I'd go back when this was all over, and try to remind myself what a place I wanted to stay in felt like.

I certainly didn't want to stay in Florence. Lorenz was a shit boss, and I wouldn't have anything else keeping me here when all was said and done. Maybe I'd pack my bag tonight, have it sitting around when Gio showed up so he knew just how much I couldn't wait to leave.

The rage carried me up my front steps, and I flung open the door. Maybe I'd just get piss drunk and hope I woke up in time to place the call tomorrow. Fuck the bag, fuck everything else.

I flicked on the light switch, and my heart skipped a beat. Instead of looking at my barren, crap-ass living room, I was looking at an extremely full crap-ass living room, full of Italian twenty-somethings, one of which crossed his arms menacingly over a robin's eggshell blue suit, and the other of which took a step in my direction.

I didn't check the fucking tape. And Lorenz already had the fucking baby.

"I can explain." I put up my hands.

"That's cute," said the one who stepped closer. God, I'd met these fucking kids. What was his name? "You can give it to someone who cares. Tal?"

The one in the blue suit-Tallon, I remembered-brushed his jacket aside to reveal a holstered gun. "Do you want to walk with us, or should we do this the hard way?"

"You don't understand," I said. "I can "

Tallon unholstered his gun and clicked off the safety. "Move."

Fucking Lorenz. Fucking no-weapons policy. I backed out the door.

Tallon kept his gun on me as his brother plucked the keys out of my hands and got in the driver's side of my car.

Fucking Florence.

At least maybe I'd get to explain myself to Olivia.