Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi

*Olivia*

My mom used to tell me that silence spoke louder than words. With how quiet I was as a child, I'm sure she meant it to cheer me up, but as I grew up, I knew she meant something else entirely. It was moments like these, when Giovani stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking like he'd take off a few heads if anyone said a single word, that I understood what she meant.

Dahlia and I stared at them in silence, while Giovani failed to even notice I was there as he stormed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and an ice pack, turning on his heel without a single word. Gabriele stared at him, impassively, not even bothering to stop him as the two turned to leave.

But of course, I could never leave it like that. I should've taken my mother's advice-read the room-and let Giovani cool down before trying to speak to him. But I didn't.

I always was one to meddle.

"Giovani," I got to my feet, reaching my hand out.

He paused in his steps, not even looking back at me as he breathed in and out rather heavily like he was suppressing something he couldn't talk about.

"Is everything okay?"

He whirled on his feet, his poisonous glare leveled at me, and I flinched, stepping back at the anger I found there. I'd never seen him so furious, and certainly never before directed at me.

He'd always been calm and patient, but now he was like a tiger who'd been released from his cage, and I was only in the middle of his warpath.

"No, it's fucking not, Olivia," he snapped, slamming the beer on the island with enough force to shatter it.

I winced as the bottle cracked, the fizz of the drink spilling over his hand, but he didn't even seem to notice or care.

"I was just-" I frowned, concerned and a bit taken aback by his attitude. No matter how angry he was, it wasn't fair to take it out on me just because I was here. But I still hadn't learned to keep my mouth shut.

"Everything is not okay because we got attacked, and five of my men are fucking dead, and the bastards who did it got away," Giovani growled, abandoning the broken bottle of beer as he gripped the ice pack in his hands. He stepped closer to me, our eyes meeting in a whirlwind of confusion and fury.

"But that's none of your fucking concern," he spat out.

My heart dropped to my feet, and I stepped back as I retreated into the little shell I had only just broken myself from. All emotions tucked tightly away in a box, I hid everything that made my chest ache and showed nothing.

All the biting comments were buried, and I solemnly nodded, stepping away from Giovani. I saw the anger in his eyes waver, something else trying to break through, but I was too wounded to care.

Soon, it was gone, replaced by the heat of his anger, and he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen. Gabriele glanced at us before following soon after.

I slid back into my seat, a little numb as I stared at my fingers on the table. Dahlia got to her feet, an outraged expression on her face.

"Hey! I get you're angry, but that was incredibly rude to someone who was just worried about you! Go cool down, you asshole," Dahlia screamed after him. We both heard the slam of the door upstairs, and I knew he had heard her.

Dahlia sighed before sliding into the seat next to me. "Hey." She bumped my shoulder, "Don't take it to heart. He was being an idiot, and that was totally uncalled for."

I nodded obediently, sending her a small smile as I pretended like everything was fine. Denial was a strong drug, and I had been addicted for a long, long time.

Maria made us lunch, a sandwich for me and a quesadilla for Dahlia. We argued about the classification of a sandwich and whether a quesadilla was one before moving on to hot dogs and even whether buttered toast could be a form of an open-faced sandwich.

It helped to distract me from the hurt that still lingered under my skin, a way to keep my mind off of the ringing words he'd spat at me and more on things that in the end, didn't really matter.

But after lunch, Dahlia's energy began to run out, and the pain medication she was on began to kick in.

"I feel like I ran a marathon," Dahlia sighed, holding her head up in her hand. "I hate how tired I get now. These pills are awesome at dulling the pain but awful at keeping me awake." "They're not supposed to keep you awake," I told her, smiling. "You'll heal better the longer you rest."

"I know, I know. I'll be so much better once I get this off," she said as she raised the cast on her wrist with a huff and then gestured to her stomach, "and these stitches out." "In the meantime, I think you need a nap," I grinned.

"Fine, laying down does sound good right now," Dahlia pouted then opened up both her arms like she wanted a hug. "Carry me?"

I put my hands on my hips, staring at her incredulously.

"You're right." She nodded. "Your skinny ass couldn't lift a dust bunny."

"Hey!" I laughed, not the least bit offended.

She was right, even if she did exaggerate a bit. But I wrapped her arm around my shoulder anyway, helping her stumble her way down the hallway and back to her room. The minute I opened her door, I thought I had walked into the wrong room. Maria had done a fantastic job cleaning Dahlia's mess. Everything was organized and sparkling clean. Even the makeup on the vanity was sorted by color and product.

"Could I get a Maria?" I asked in wonder.

"No, she's mine," Dahlia joked.

I helped her settle into her bed. It reminded me of the times when she'd gotten too drunk, and I had to pull her wasted ass into bed.

I laid the covers over her, and she snuggled into her newly made bed, sighing contently. Seeing that she was happy and ready to fall asleep for a long nap, I made my escape.

I flicked off her light, plunging the room into darkness, and shut the door behind me. She'd be out in a few minutes, no doubt. Those meds worked fast.

But once I stepped into the hallway, I was completely alone. The emptiness around me stretched into forever like an endless void. I took a deep breath, clinging to the numbness for a little longer as I made my way to my room. When I bypassed the kitchen, I paused as I heard movement from inside. Peeking around the corner, I saw it was a maid who was cleaning up from lunch. She grabbed a huge pitcher filled with a familiar-colored liquid. "Excuse me," I called out to her.

She jumped, glancing at me with wide eyes as she held the pitcher above the sink about to pour the rest out.

"Could I have the rest of that brought to my room, please?"

"Si, signorina," the maid easily agreed.

I smiled at her gratefully and then made my way upstairs, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. My movements felt almost mechanical as everything I had been suppressing started to flood back into my system. There was a bad taste in my mouth-the after-effects of poisonous words shoved down my throat, and the wound in my chest stung.

"None of your fucking concern," I mumbled, the words going round and round in my head. I stopped at my door and glanced down at the hall at Giovani's study.

The light was on under the crack of the door, but there was no noise, no sign anyone was even still in there.

But I knew he was. Giovani was probably at his desk, drinking a glass of some fancy whiskey as he focused intently on planning. I didn't know what kind of attack had happened or why five men were dead, but there was no doubt that it had to do with the Russians.

I understood his anger. I felt his frustration. But that wasn't an excuse.

I entered my room, and the hurt faded away into a darker emotion. Anger and embarrassment partnered up to dance on my open wounds, pushing away any hint of hurt I felt.

None of my business?

I snorted, clenching my fists as I stormed into the bathroom. Instead of starting the shower, I turned on the bathtub, running the water as I plugged it into a bath.

I grabbed the nearest bath bomb from the cabinet over the sink, not even caring about the scent or color as I threw it inside.

I was more than just upset now-I was fucking angry. He'd snapped at me. Fine, that was one thing. But he did it in front of Dahlia and Gabriele. He'd acted like I was just an annoyance.

He embarrassed me, hurt me, and then ran off to his study like I didn't matter. I was only worth caring about when he could fuck me, I guess.

"Miss!" I heard a firm knock before my door opened, and I rounded into my room. The maid from the kitchen was there with a bright smile as she set down the full pitcher of daiquiri on the stand. Ice cubes danced in the mix, fully chilled once

more.

"Thanks."

I smiled and she nodded before leaving, shutting the door behind her. Once I was alone, I grabbed the entire pitcher of daiquri, ignoring the glass she'd put next to it and instead just plucked the swirly straw from it and stuck it into the pitcher. I sipped the cocktail, the massive pitcher awkward to hold, but I didn't care in the least. I headed back to the bath, catching it just in time to stop the bubbling pink water from overflowing. For good measure, I threw in another bath bomb, a blue one, and watched it fizzle.

I was going to take Giovani's wonderful advice. If he thought this whole thing was none of my concern, then fine. I was going to make it none of my concern.

I stripped out of my clothes, kicking them away as I stepped into the bath. It was overly hot, and my skin turned a bit red from the heat, but I didn't care. Fully submerged, I grabbed the pitcher of daiquiri and laid my head back, sighing in full relaxation.

Giovani and this whole situation could suck a dick. Right now, the only thing I needed was a nice long soak and to drink this entire pitcher of my cocktail. Everything else be damned.