Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 489 -

*Olivia*

I trudged into the living room with one of Elio's blocks clutched in my fist like a talisman. I wanted his room set up for if when we got him home, but I needed a little piece of him with me to keep that certainty. Dahlia and Gio sat across from each other in the living room, staring blankly into the distance. Plates of food sat on the coffee table in front of each of them, both untouched. I collapsed into the armchair at the short end of the coffee table. I'd done my crying, my hugging, my curling up in my son's things as though that would be enough to summon him home. Now, I knew, I needed to be strong until it was over. That meant I needed my own seat. The allure of Gio's or Dahlia's arms would be too strong for me to resist if I was within reach.

Maria appeared from the kitchen carrying a steaming plate, as though she'd just been waiting for me-penne alle vodka, one of my favorites under normal circumstances. I accepted the plate, muttered my thanks, and put it on the table with the others as soon as she left the room.

Dimly, I noticed neither Dahlia's nor Gio's plate contained penne. Gio had spaghetti in a thick red sauce, and Dahlia a golden-brown chicken parmesan over linguine. Maria had made all our favorites, or at least as much as she could with no warning and the ingredients we kept around the house. When this was over, I had to get her another raise.

While it still happened, I couldn't stomach a bite.

I checked my phone automatically. There was nothing from anyone, but I finally noticed it was nearly two in the morning. I swallowed. Elio had been gone for six hours.

I tucked my phone away. Counting minutes helped no one. We would get him back, no matter how long they had him.

But, God, I wished I could do anything to help with that. Anything had to be better than this endless sitting and waiting.

The front door slammed open. Gio shot to his feet, unholstering a gun I hadn't realized he'd started carrying around in his own house. Dahlia shrank back into the couch as though she could disappear.

I remained stock-still in my chair. This, too, would be solved by other people and their guns if it got solved at all.

There was a bit of arguing at the door, but I couldn't quite make out the voices. Gio clicked off the safety on his gun. I gripped the arms of my chair.

Talon and Alessandro, looking tired and pissed off respectively, stalked into the room, pushing a recalcitrant Sal in front of them.

My heart leaped into my throat, and a million thoughts shot through my head at once. Had my father taken Elio? Was he hurt? When I asked that, did I mean Sal or Elio? How in the hell was I going to talk to a man I trusted enough to allow into my home, who'd betrayed me like no one had before?

Alessandro shoved him down at my feet-not Dahlia's, not Gio's, mine. Sal landed on his knees, barely catching himself with his bound hands before his face hit the floor.

My pulse raced. I'd spent years wishing for a family, a father. I wanted my mom around more, and a sibling, and a fucking dad.

The unfortunate man who shared my genetic code struggled to his feet. Behind him, Gio sat, though he kept his gun propped on his thigh and pointed at my father.

I met his eyes, the eyes he'd given me. I wanted to read him, to see regret and fear and a hope to do better, but if I was able to read him, we wouldn't be in this situation in the fucking first place.

This situation-the situation where he kidnapped or facilitated kidnapping my son. I spent all those years wanting a family, and when I finally built my own, my father came out of the woodwork to rip it away from me again.

Suddenly, I was on my feet, launching myself at him.

"How could you?" I shrieked. "He's my baby!"

I landed on him, and he stumbled back a step. I pounded my fists against his chest, one of them still clutching the block, and wished desperately that I'd taken Gio up on one of his many offers to get me a self-defense trainer so I could do some real damage.

Sal didn't react, didn't try to push me away, but with his hands cuffed together, he couldn't really.

Gio appeared on my left, gun gone, and wrapped his arm around my chest. "Shh, carina. I know, I know."

He began to pull me back. His arm was warm, and I wanted to fall into the low timbre of his voice, but my rage hadn't nearly boiled off. I squirmed in his grip, fighting to get back to Sal.

"How can you tell me to be quiet?" I tried to pull Gio's arm off me. "He took Elio. He took our fucking son."

I tasted salt, and I realized I'd begun crying again. Tears soaked my face, rapid and unreasonable.

Gio pulled me into an embrace, and I buried my head in his chest.

"Our Elio," I whispered.

Gio pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I know, carina, but if you bludgeon him to death, we can't learn what he knows."

I sniffled, feeling suddenly young again, like I'd never done this before. I tried so hard to steel myself before I'd come out here, but still my emotions overwhelmed me.

Maybe I didn't belong in this world. Maybe I never had, and that was why people kept being able to trick me.

I swiped at my tears and pulled back from Gio. Dahlia looked at me with tears welling in her own eyes and her fists clenched in rage. Alessandro still seemed furious. Only Tallon managed to maintain the cool detachment I'd seen so often in Gio and his men.

I needed to be like that if I wanted both of us to survive this interview. I straightened my shoulders and let my face fall under a blanket of neutrality.

Gio held me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes. Worry etched lines between his brows, but I nodded at him. I had control of myself now, or at least not enough to throw myself at Sal again. I needed the information he had so badly that I could keep my storm of emotions locked inside, at least for now.

I remained standing as Gio returned to his couch, not far away, but just far enough to make it clear to the room that I had the floor. I shot him a small smile, then retook Tallon's detachment.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" I asked.

Sal had the decency to look down. "I never meant for this to happen."

I paced back and forth. "For what to happen? For you to trade information to the Russian mob, long-time enemies of my family, or for you to kidnap my son?"

The words burned in my throat, but I spit them anyway.

Sal cringed. "About Elio. I was keeping you two safe, you and him."

"You're doing a great job at that." I stopped in front of him. "Just the two of us?"

"There was no deal if I didn't hand over Giovani." He looked up at me with what seemed like honesty burning in his eyes. "They were never supposed to hurt you."

Anger chased blood into my cheeks. Tears pressed at the backs of my eyes again, and I flexed my fists, looking for something to hit. How dare he say that in the house where he knew my son had been taken? How dare he offer any excuse, much less one as paltry as that?

I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself to limited avail.

"So I understand," I said quietly, "that you thought you could kill my husband and that wouldn't hurt me at all?"

Sal's face fell. It looked like real disappointment, real crestfallenness, but I couldn't let myself be lured in again. He had me on the hook for weeks with nothing more than a few expressions.

Fuck, I initially trusted him for the way he looked when he talked about my mother.

I took a step closer. Gio sat up, ready to stop me if I attacked him again, but I didn't need that. I needed to pull the ice of the mafia over my heart.

"Sit," I barked.

Sal glanced at the coffee table covered in food behind him and then sat on the floor.

"We know you have information." I glanced at Gio, who nodded. "Give it to us, and we'll see what sort of mercy the Valentino family might be able to muster."

Sal nodded furiously. "Anything. Anything you want."

"Who took Elio?" I asked, barely keeping my voice from shaking with rage.

"Lorenz," he answered. "Well, I don't know if he did it specifically. I wasn't involved. I didn't even know what was going to happen."

I scowled. Sal blanched.

"He mentioned a name-Misha, I think-but Lorenz has him now, and I know where he was maybe an hour ago." Sal rattled off an address.

Gio nodded at Alessandro, who turned and left the room, presumably to go check Sal's information and see what they could dig up on Misha.

I hated Misha with a sudden and burning passion... more than Lorenz, perhaps even more than my father.

I looked down into his eyes. No, not more than him, not now.

"Are they going to kill him?" I circled Sal to keep him from seeing the way my face crumpled when I asked that. I had to know, but I couldn't bear the thought. It called up images of Elio's little body, still and slicked in blood, that churned my stomach and brought tears to my eyes.

Sal shook his head. "At least, that's not the plan. They've just got him drugged right now, one of those antihistamines that makes you sleepy."

My pulse thudded in my ears. Antihistamines like that weren't safe for children under two. The lethal side-effects were rare, but they came on so aggressively that all parents were advised to avoid them.

Gio met my gaze. His eyes were full of calm certainty. I inhaled slowly and dug my thumb into the corner of the block in my hand. I couldn't change what had already happened. I could only get what I needed to get Elio back as quickly as possible.

But I could feel my control beginning to slip. Everything Sal said called up a new wave of rage and fear and grief. I could only bear so many more.

"What is the plan?" I snarled.

"I'm supposed to contact Giovani in the morning, tell him to come to my house alone within twenty-four hours if he ever wants to see Elio again. Then," Sal swallowed, "Lorenz springs his trap. I don't know after that." "You don't know?" I repeated incredulously.

He shook his head. "I really am the low man on the totem pole. He doesn't tell me anything he doesn't have to."

My vision turned red. "You don't even know what the plan is for returning my fucking son?"

He blanched and shook his head.

At that moment, I could've reached back in time and shaken eight-year-old Olivia for the sheer stupidity of wishing my dad would show up. He wouldn't have changed anything. He couldn't have, because he was exactly the sort of spineless worm who abandoned his young wife and daughter because he lacked the brains or the balls to come up with a better way to fix the mess he blundered himself into.

I

I squeezed the block so hard my palm began to ache and I realized, with crystalline clarity, that if I didn't leave right now I was going to ask someone to kill my father.

Or I was going to take a gun and do it my goddamn self.

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room without another word. Quick, light footsteps behind me told me Dahlia was following. I didn't turn. I could only march through the compound, wondering how fucking stupid I could've been to trust him.

I should've known by now that I could never count on my father.