Filled, Owned, and Fucked by My Best Friend’s Father

I shouldn’t be looking for him. I tell myself that every time I come over.

But somehow, even before I greet Tatiana - my best friend, my eyes drift—to the hallway that leads to his home office, to the back patio where he sometimes takes work calls shirtless, to anywhere he might be. It’s disgusting, really. He’s my best friend’s dad. Off-limits in every way. Twice my age. Tattooed, god-tier attractive, and the reason I’ve rewritten my private daydreams more times than I can count.

Gianni.

I shouldn’t even call him that in my head. “Mr. Rossetti,” I correct myself silently, though it feels stupid and stiff. He doesn’t act like a Mr. anything. He acts like a man who knows exactly how good he looks and exactly how dangerous that is.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to focus on the conversation Tatiana is having beside me, but my gaze is already wandering toward the sound of splashing water. I know he’s out there. Shirtless. Probably with a drink in his hand and some woman on his radar. That thought makes something twist in my stomach.

I hate how much I notice him. I hate how much I imagine things I shouldn’t.

He inserts two fingers into me, stretching her…

I watch his face, focused and intense, as he continues. “Don’t stop!” I  gasp, nearing my climax. “Oh god, yes… just like that! I’m about to come! Please, don’t stop!”

How many times have I dreamed of this?

Except, I wasn’t the woman he was fucking, taming, taking pleasure from. I wonder if the rumors are true? That he fucks as dirty as he fights.

IT SHOULD BE ME.

"Let me make sure I’ve got this right," my best friend Tatiana says, leaning over with her elbow making a squeaky noise on the leather seat while trying to balance a glass of champagne. She brushes her blonde hair away from her face.

"So, you just graduated, and your boyfriend of five years didn’t come to the ceremony or spend any time with you afterwards?"

I grit my teeth. Her straightforwardness can be a bit much. Even though she's had quite a bit to drink today, her honesty is nothing new. We had to attend five graduation parties, according to her. It was fun, but I felt like I was just watching from the sidelines, feeling like something was wrong with me.

My absent boyfriend seems like a convenient excuse, though it doesn’t feel entirely right. There are deeper issues, but I’m not ready to face them.

"He had to work early tomorrow," I say, repeating the excuse he’s given me too many times. "I guess I can’t blame him for trying to be responsible."

"An adult would have asked for the day off. He’s known about the graduation date for months," she says with a shrug. "I don’t buy it, Caterina."

She’s always calling me out. I just shake my head.

"What matters is that it’s important to you," she continues. "If he really cared, he’d be here. He’s treating you like an afterthought, and that’s not right. If he were truly committed, being with you would be his top priority. I know you don’t want to admit it, but you don’t seem to matter to him, and it makes me want to do something drastic."

I sigh, unsure how to respond. There’s no answer that will make her accept my choice to stay with him.

Luciano has hurt me so many times that I can’t see any good left in him. I don’t know why I stay.

Maybe it’s the fear of being alone or hoping he’ll change. I’m not sure. We’re not engaged or planning a family.

I can’t spend the rest of the night hearing things I’ve already told myself, so I try to shift the conversation.

"Hey, it’s not all bad. His absence means we get to spend the whole day and night together. And from what I heard, your boyfriend couldn’t join us tonight either." I immediately regret saying it when I see her confident smile fade.

"Yeah, I guess we’re both unlucky in love. He had other things to do too."

She won’t say what, and I wonder if he even told her.

She talks about her relationship with Christopher as if it’s perfect, but I know it’s not. She seems to have learned to hide her true feelings, just like her powerful father, who can't show his emotions.

Our driver, Roger, turns onto the road leading to the Rossetti estate. My stomach flutters. Gianni Rossetti is both dangerous and intriguing. He has many enemies because he doesn’t always follow the law, which my father warns me about.

The guard at the gate waves us through, and we drive up the long, winding driveway. There’s so much land that even Gianni’s bodyguards live in small houses near the high stone wall.

Tatiana finishes her champagne and looks at me with dazed eyes. “What were we talking about?” She taps her chin. “Oh right, Luke the jerk.”

I roll my eyes at her nickname. “He’s not a jerk, Tatiana.”

Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll start to believe it too.

“But he really is, and you know it. I know it. His mom probably knows it too. You might be mad at me, though I doubt it, but it’s your graduation day—a once-in-a-lifetime event. He knew how important it was to you, and he couldn’t even make time for dinner when your dad specifically invited him.”

It bothers me more than I want to admit, but all I can do is come up with another excuse. “He couldn’t help that he had to cover a shift.”

Her snort fills the car. “Oh, right. I forgot about his job at his uncle’s gym.”

“The gym he’s going to take over,” I remind her gently. “It’s a big investment. If he wants to be taken seriously, he needs to make responsible choices; otherwise, what’s the point in taking over?”

“I’m just saying... you deserve better. He could have taken the day off. He didn’t even make an effort, which shows he doesn’t care.” She burps and then groans. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you hurt, and that’s all he seems to do.”

“I’m not hurt.” At least, not really. Not in the way I should be if I cared enough about him to let him affect me.

Roger parks the car, gets out, and opens the door for us with a sense of formality. I’m still getting used to the special treatment Tatiana and I receive when we’re together.

I grab my overnight bag from the seat and give Tatiana, who’s a bit unsteady, some space to get out.

“Do you need help?” Roger asks, noting Tatiana’s swaying. She’s tipsy but still on her feet.

Tatiana narrows her green eyes at him and purses her glossy pink lips. “Excuse me, sir.” She pokes his suit jacket with a manicured finger. “My dad pays you to look after me, not judge me. Yes, I had a few drinks. I graduated today. What did you do?”

Roger rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but smile at their dynamic. They’re like fire and gasoline, constantly sparking off each other. Of all the people Tatiana interacts with, Roger is the only one who stands up to her without flinching.

“Get her to bed before she makes a bigger fool of herself,” he says, not breaking eye contact.

I link my arm through Tatiana’s and guide her towards the front door.

“You’re incredibly rude, and I’m going to tell my dad to fire you,” Tatiana shouts over her shoulder.

“That would be fantastic. I could use a break from your high-maintenance attitude,” Roger retorts.

“You’re such a jerk!” Tatiana struggles, but I tighten my hold to keep her steady. She’s ready to argue, but it’s not worth it tonight.

I give her a gentle tug. “Stop. He’s just trying to provoke you, and you’re falling for it.”

We’re adults, allowed to have a few drinks, but making a scene isn’t ideal. The last thing we need is Gianni coming out to scold us—if he’s even here.

“Why does he have to be such a jerk?” she asks, her whisper loud and slurred.

“I don’t know, but you’re not helping. You push back just as hard. If that’s how you flirt, I can only imagine what it’s like when you’re in love.”

“That wasn’t flirting,” she says, using her finger to unlock the door.

As soon as it beeps and unlocks, she pushes it open. Stepping inside, a sense of calm washes over me.

Unlike my home where my father’s questions and disapproval are constant, here it’s just peaceful.

“I should have eaten something,” Tatiana pouts as I help her to the kitchen. She leans on me more heavily. “My stomach hurts.”

“Of course it does. You only had half a sandwich today.” I set her down by the counter, grab a granola bar and some water, hoping it will help with the alcohol.

Then we head to her room.

I know I’ve made similar mistakes, but I’d never get this tipsy if I knew I was heading home to my father. Living with Luciano means  avoiding my detective father’s reminders about how easy it is for college students to get into trouble. He’s seen a lot in his career, and his overprotectiveness can be overwhelming.

Gianni is different. Even before we could legally drink, he took a more mature approach to Tatiana’s partying.

“It’s pointless to forbid you, so just make smart choices and call me if things start to go wrong.”

As a notorious arms dealer, Gianni Rossetti understands the darker side of life as much as any detective. It’s intriguing how their approaches differ: one fighting crime, the other involved in it.

I’ve always been fascinated by Gianni. Since I was a teenager, he’s been drawing me into his complex world, making me crave his presence without even realizing it.

Even now I can’t tell if I’m terrified of him or if I want to step closer and see what happens when I stop pretending I’m not.

Because part of me already knows: Gianni Rossetti is the kind of man who ruins girls like me.

And worse still—I think I want him to.