The Promise

by Kristen Ashley

  “Frankie, Vinnie bought what happened to him.”

  “A woman is supposed to have her man’s back,” I retorted.

  “Not when her man turns his back on his woman,” he returned.

  His words hit me like a bullet (and I knew that feeling) and I clamped my mouth shut.

  “He did that shit to you and you know it,” Benny stated.

  I looked to the side.

  “He did that shit to you, you knew it, and you were done with it,” Benny went on.

  I looked to him.

  “Weren’t you?” he pushed.

  “Yes,” I whispered, then admitted my horrible secret, “I was giving up on him.”

  This time Ben shook his head. “Cara, he took away everything so there wasn’t anything to give up.”

  His words hit me again, hard, and I drew in a sharp breath like I’d sustained a blow.

  “You got a point with this talk?” he asked.

  “This is between us,” I explained. “It always will be.”

  “How?” Benny asked before he reminded me, “He’s dead.”

  “I loved your brother, Benny,” I repeated.

  “Yeah. You did. He was lovable. He was a good guy. He loved you too. Fuckin’ besotted. I was glad my brother had that. Then I was fuckin’ pissed he shit all over it.”

  And still more goodness from Benny.

  I couldn’t take it.

  “This can never work between us,” I declared.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because people will see us at Giuseppe’s and they’ll think, ‘There she is, Frankie Concetti. Dating her dead boyfriend’s brother. Latching onto another Bianchi.’”

  “Anyone thinks that shit can kiss your ass, and while they’re at it, they can kiss mine.”

  He had an answer for everything, but I was losing it, so I leaned in and shouted, “It isn’t right!”

  He leaned forward to, his voice rising, and threw out both arms as he asked, “What about the last four days hasn’t been right, Frankie? Tell me. What hasn’t been right? You gigglin’ at Pop bein’ Pop and me bein’ me? You sharin’ words of wisdom with one of Cal’s girls? You in my bed handin’ me shit I like, then cuddlin’ up to me to watch TV? You eatin’ my pie and lovin’ every fuckin’ bite? You sittin’ at the kitchen table havin’ lunch with my ma? Pop havin’ your back when your bitch of a sister comes callin’? What about any of that isn’t right?”

  That was when I lost it.

  “I don’t want you to ever think I’m with you for any reason other than you’re Benny!” I yelled. “Not ever, Ben. Not ever. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve ever to think something like that!”

  As I was yelling, his torso jerked back, even as his chin did it into his neck.

  When I was done yelling, he whispered, “What the fuck?”

  “You’re right,” I snapped, throwing out a hand. “I came onto you after Vinnie died. You kissed me, but I made the first move.”

  “I know that, baby,” he replied, still whispering.

  “It was a slutty thing to do.”

  “You were drunk.”

  “It was slutty.”

  “Francesca, you were plastered, outta your mind, totally blotto. So was I. You lost your man, I lost my brother, you’re a woman, I’m a guy, and shit happened seven years ago. It wasn’t right. We both fucked up. We both knew it. And now it’s over.”

  “That’s it?” I clipped.

  “That’s it,” he returned immediately.

  “And you don’t think I’m a slut.”

  His body went solid and my heart squeezed hard.

  “You think I’m a slut,” I whispered.

  “No,” he bit out.

  “You do. I can read it, Benny Bianchi. It’s written all over you.”

  “Babe—”

  I shook my head, looking toward the door, demanding, “Take me home.”

  “Babe—”

  I looked to him and shrieked, “Take me home, Benny!”

  “Frankie, baby. Fuck. I know Vinnie took your virginity.”

  I took two steps back and stared.

  He watched my feet move and his eyes cut to my face. “Yeah. This would be the awkward, uncomfortable shit we’ll be needin’ to get through.” He lifted a hand, tore it through his fabulous hair, looking to the side and finishing on a mutter, “All a’ this shit.”

  “Vinnie told you that?” I whispered, and Benny looked back to me.

  “Yeah,” he ground out.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  “Loved him. He was a good guy until he turned bad. But he had a big fuckin’ mouth.”

  “Oh my God,” I repeated.

  I wanted to die. I wanted to rewind to the forest and not make it out.

  Vinnie talked about me, as in about me.

  To Benny!

  “Frankie—”

  “How much do you know?” I asked.

  “Babe—”

  I leaned toward him. “How much do you know, Benny Bianchi?”

  He answered in a way that seemed he was forcing the words to come out, “I know I got some work to do to get you to enjoy goin’ down on me.”

  I looked to the ceiling and cried, “Oh my God!”

  “Babe, come here.”

  I looked to him and shook my head. “No. Take me home.”

  “Frankie, come here.”

  “This is humiliating,” I hissed.

  “What this is, is me tellin’ you I know you’re not a slut. You weren’t then, you could never be. It isn’t in you, babe. Fuck, you were twenty-one when you gave it up the first time and you haven’t had a man since.”

  “How do you know that?” I snapped.

  “Babe, I was into you. I’m still into you. I never stopped bein’ into you. I paid attention.”

  Even though I liked that, a whole lot, I was too mortified to allow that good feeling to penetrate so I just glared at him.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” he pushed.

  I just kept glaring at him.

  “I’m right,” he muttered.

  “Take me home,” I demanded.

  “Frankie—”

  “Honestly,” I bit out. “Do you think we can get beyond this? You knowin’ your brother was the only one?”

  “It didn’t even occur to me when I had my hand on your ass and my tongue in your mouth yesterday. And do not go where you’re goin’, Frankie, because Vinnie didn’t cross your mind either.”

  I shut my mouth that I’d opened in order to retort in precisely the way Benny knew I would because Vinnie didn’t. He didn’t cross my mind. Not until Benny started talking about him.

  That was all about Benny and what Benny was doing to me.

  “All right then, how about this?” I threw out. “I’m not a big fan of blowjobs.”

  “Then, no offense to my dead brother, he didn’t teach you right.”

  I threw up my hands. “Do you not find this entire conversation bizarre?”

  “Babe, seriously, I get you naked, I’ll get you to the point where you latch on and be so into what you’re doin’, you’ll come before I can pull you off and bury myself inside you.”

  “Arrrrrr!” I screamed, mostly because, all of sudden, I had an overwhelming desire to give Benny a blowjob.

  Crazy!

  Just as suddenly, I was in his arms.

  I jerked my body, but his arms went tight.

  “Calm,” he growled.

  I went still and glared up at him.

  “You are not a slut.” He kept growling.

  I kept glaring up at him.

  “And I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about us if they see us together. They judge, they gotta answer to God for that, not me or you.”

  I just kept glaring at him.

  Benny withstood it for some time before he asked, “You have lunch?”

  “Old lady Zambino treated her entire crew to Coney dogs from the concession stand in celebration of their resoundin
g win.”

  “Too bad. I was gonna haul our asses to Lincoln’s for a sub.”

  At this offer, my shoulders went straight and I shared, “I’m still peckish.”

  “A sub on top of a Coney dog is gonna fuck with your Giuseppe’s experience.”

  “Nothing fucks with a Giuseppe’s experience.”

  Benny grinned.

  Then he asked, “You done freakin’ out?”

  I absolutely was not.

  This realization made me slump in his arms.

  I aimed my eyes at his shoulder, saying, “All of this is weird.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, and I looked back to him. “It’s weird. It’s awkward. It sucks. It reminds me I shoulda asked you out when I wanted to ask you out my senior year but didn’t because it was known wide you didn’t put out. But now we’re here. We’ll get past it. And at least it’s at a time when I’m sure I can convince you to put out and give you a whole lot better than I could have when I was seventeen.”

  I blinked at him.

  Then I asked breathily, “You wanted to ask me out when we were in high school?”

  “Babe, you’re crazy-beautiful and got great tits, great legs, a great ass, and an unbelievable smile, and you had all a’ that back then too. So yeah. Fuck yeah. Every guy in high school wanted a piece of you.”

  Oh my God.

  I’d had three dates in high school.

  Three!

  And none of them good.

  I felt my brows draw together. “Then why didn’t they ask me?”

  “Because, Frankie, baby, you didn’t put out.”

  It was then I felt my blood start to get hot.

  “Was that the only prerequisite for a girl to get a date?”

  “Pretty much. Outside of her needin’ to be hot. But you had that.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I hissed.

  “Frankie,” he said, and my name rumbled with the laughter that was shaking his body against mine. “That was eighteen years ago, in a time when I thought with my dick.”

  My brows shot up. “You don’t anymore?”

  “Okay, it was in a time when I thought with my dick ninety-nine percent of the time, rather than now, when I think with my dick only fifty percent of the time, or anytime I’m around you.”

  “That’s disgusting too.”

  “It was meant to be a compliment.”

  “It failed.”

  “Babe,” he said, his arms giving me a squeeze. “You are not shitting me that you don’t like the idea of me bein’ all about my dick and where I wanna put it when I’m with you.”

  I was looking forward to a time when I could throw something at him without tearing open my wound when he pissed me off.

  Like when he was right and he went about being right in a crude way that I found annoyingly arousing.

  “I think I need a nap,” I declared.

  His arms got super tight when he burst out laughing.

  I watched, up close and personal, and hated myself for enjoying every second.

  His laughter died down to chuckles, his hand at my side moved to stroke me there, and he again focused on me to ask, “Right. Now, are you done freakin’ out?”

  I stopped being pissed. I stopped being anything.

  But one thing.

  And I shared with Benny what that was.

  “This scares me, Ben.”

  He dipped his head so his face was an inch from mine and replied, “I get that, honey.”

  “I don’t know how to get over that,” I admitted.

  “You wanna get over it?” he asked.

  That was a loaded question I was not going to answer out loud so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that play, cara,” Benny said when I did. “But, just sayin’, you makin’ your previous statement already gives me my answer.”

  And, again, he was right.

  “So,” he continued, “how ’bout this? Stick with me.”

  I shook my head. “I’m moving to Indianapolis.”

  At that, he shook his head. “Day to day, babe, not future. Not anything but the next day, fuck, the next minute, each minute into the next. Stick with me while we work it out. If it goes wrong, it does. If I can’t guide you through, I’ll eat that. But, I’ll warn you, I’ll be breakin’ my back to make sure neither of those happen.”

  God, more goodness coming from Benny.

  “There are a lot of obstacles,” I pointed out.

  “Francesca, no one ever got a gold medal for sittin’ on their ass and doin’ nothin’. You work at somethin’, you work at it hard, you believe in it, you want it, you go after it, you get it—that’s when you get your prize.”

  Now wisdom coming from Benny.

  I couldn’t take it so I dropped my chin to rest my forehead against his chest.

  The hand he was using to stroke my side curled around and his other hand slid up to wrap around the back of my neck as he asked into my hair, “You really need a nap?”

  “Were you really gonna take me to Lincoln’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I don’t need a nap.”

  His hand at the back of my neck gave me a squeeze so I lifted my head.

  When I did, Benny, who I was learning did not waste opportunities, dipped his and took my mouth. He got tongue action. It was more than a sweep this time. It was a deep drink.

  I loved it. Every second. And I ended it with my arms wrapped around him.

  “Stick with me?” he whispered, his lips still against mine.

  “Yeah.”

  I felt his mouth smile.

  I closed my eyes.

  Then I felt his mouth touch my forehead.

  After that, he let me go, grabbed my hand, pulled me toward the door, and said, “Let’s go get subs.”

  Chapter Seven

  Minute by Minute

  At six forty that night, I stood in Benny’s bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

  My hair was bigger than its normal big, by a lot.

  My makeup was deeper, smokier, hotter.

  My dress was black with a silver shimmer. In the front, it covered me from throat to mid-thigh, including long sleeves.

  But it was skintight. Everywhere.

  And there was no back. None. From the small to my shoulder blades, all bare.

  It was a dress that demanded a woman not wear underwear. A bra was an impossibility, but I’d bested the challenge of the panties, finding a sheer black thong that was only noticeable if the dress shifted in a particular way. So under the dress, I had on nothing but that thong.

  But on the outside, I’d included chunky drop earrings that nearly brushed my shoulders and a thick rhinestone bracelet over the gathers formed by the material at one of my wrists. On the other hand, I had a ring at my middle finger, on which delicate, shimmering chains were attached that dangled up the back of my hand to another bracelet linked around my wrist.

  And on my feet were silver sandals that had a platform, a four-and-a-half-inch heel that was thin as a pencil, a slim wraparound strap at my ankle, and two slender straps over my toes.

  I needed a manicure and a pedicure.

  Other than that, top to toe, I was all I could be for a first date.

  The bummer was that I was also a little tired. The day, the conversation with Benny, the trip to Lincoln’s and back, and my efforts in the bathroom took it out of me.

  But I was not going to miss that night.

  I’d made Benny a promise. Stick with him. Minute by minute.

  I was going to keep it.

  I didn’t know if it was right.

  I did know that day we threw a lot of garbage out there and none of it fazed Ben, not in the slightest.

  I also knew that pretty much everybody—from Cindy the nurse, who had no real idea of the history; to Cal, who totally did; to Theresa and Vinnie, who were intimately involved; to old lady Zambino, a not-so-casual observer—didn’t think it was wrong.

  It was only me
who did.

  So I was going to stick with Benny, take this minute by minute and ride it out, God help me.

  Which meant, even though I was tired and a bit achy, I was tricked out to extremes in order to go to arguably the most romantic restaurant in Chicago with Benny Bianchi.

  I turned to the door, opened it, switched off the light, walked out, and stopped dead.

  This was because Ben had his neck bent forward, his side to me, and he was shrugging on the jacket of a black suit. Shrugging it on over a shirt so deep blue it was midnight, that had subtle dark gray, deep burgundy, and navy stripes. His hair was partially tamed, and once he got the jacket settled, the ends brushed the collar.

  My stomach dipped and my mouth went dry.

  His eyes came to me and he went completely still.

  Then those eyes got dark in a way that made my legs start trembling and my clit pulse.

  I braced for him to rush me.

  He didn’t. We just stood there staring at each other. Benny’s look was carnal. I had a feeling mine was the same.

  After this lasted awhile, Ben whispered, “Crazy-beautiful.”

  My heart squeezed, and when it did, it felt fucking good.

  “Always were,” he went on quietly.

  I forced myself to find my voice, but when the words came out, they sounded husky. “You look good too.”

  Some of the dark went out of his eyes as sweet settled in and he ordered, “Come here, Frankie.”

  For once, I did as I was told and walked to him.

  The instant I got close, he pulled me gently into his arms, holding me loosely, and dipped his head to touch his mouth to mine.

  When he lifted it, he asked, “You ready to go?”

  I nodded.

  He grinned, gave me a light squeeze, then let me go. He did the rounds to turn the lights off on the nightstands, then came to me and took my hand. He held it all the way down to the kitchen and only dropped it when he nabbed his cell off the counter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

  We were at the door when he asked, “You want your purse?”

  I looked up at him. “It doesn’t go with my outfit and I didn’t think to grab one when I was at my place.”

  “You need me to carry anything for you?”

  I went silent and stared up at him, wondering if he was for real.