Flow

by Chelle Bliss

“I remember,” I say quickly, completely defensive.

  I don’t want to be that girl.

  You know…the type I clearly am.

  The corner of his mouth turns upward. “Tell me what position we did it in?”

  I laugh and wince all at once because the tiny monster inside my head is jackhammering away like a boss, probably etching the word “Whiskey” onto my skull as a reminder. “Come on. That’s so easy,” I scoff.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Then tell me.”

  I mentally flip through every possibility as quick as I can. Since I was drunk off my ass, there’s a high likelihood I wasn’t on top because…hello, I could barely walk.

  Leo doesn’t look like the missionary type of guy either, so that’s right out the window immediately.

  Two down and only a few hundred to go.

  “Doggy,” I blurt out. I’m almost positive this guy is an ass man. If ass men had a look, they’d be Leo.

  The smirk on his face turns into a full-on smile as he shakes his head.

  “Against the wall,” I say, trying again. When Leo shakes his head again, I know there’s no way I can go on pretending that I can remember any goddamn second of last night. “Fine. I don’t remember.” I feel all kinds of whorish, like I need to run to the nearest church and beg for forgiveness in the confessional.

  “You’re cute.” He slides his massive hand against my cheek and cups my face. “I didn’t think you were that drunk, or else…”

  I glance away, trying to avoid his dark, penetrating gaze. “Now, he has morals,” I say before he can finish the statement.

  “Hey,” he says, drawing my eyes back to his. “I always have morals, especially when it comes to women.”

  Suddenly, I realize how very naked I am. I was so taken by his bare skin, I completely forgot I wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing and had done nothing to shield myself.

  “Fuck.” I push his hand away and scramble to my feet, taking the top sheet off the bed with me. Wrapping the material around my body, I glance around the room, trying to find the monstrosity I wore last night. “Where’s my dress?”

  He pitches his head toward the door. “In the living room.”

  Living room?

  “You have a suite?”

  He shakes his head, and that cocky, drop-dead-sexy smirk is back. “We’re at my place.”

  “I’ve got to go.” I rush toward the door, not giving two fucks about anything except getting the hell out of here.

  Leo wraps his hand around my arm and hauls me backward. “Don’t you want a few memories to take with you?” There’s a smug grin on his face.

  I glance down to where his hand is against my skin and grind my teeth. “You want to keep your cock?” I raise an eyebrow as I gaze up into his eyes.

  “You’re feisty. I like it,” he teases before he releases his grip on my arm. “Tiger through and through.” I know he’s loving every moment of my misery.

  I don’t even have time to ask what the fuck that means. I’m all kinds of sideways. “Pretend I don’t exist.” I run out of his bedroom, scrambling to find my dress to get the fuck out of his place.

  Leo leans against the wall in the living room as I scoop my dress off the floor.

  I drop the sheet, giving him a full view because he’s seen it all anyway. “Get your last look.” I yank the dress over my head.

  Leo’s standing there, arms crossed, looking all kinds of sexy, with his cock waving in appreciation.

  “It’s the last time you’ll see me,” I tell him.

  “Bella.” He closes the space between us in three quick strides before taking my chin between two of his fingers. “You made promises last night.”

  I gawk at him, blinking uncontrollably and totally lost. “What?” I ask him, not exactly knowing what the fuck he even means by that statement. “I was drunk. You can’t hold me accountable for anything I said or did.”

  He slides his finger against my jaw as his thumb comes to a rest behind my ear. “It means we aren’t done. Not by a long shot,” he tells me, like he’s making all the sense in the world, and somehow, I’m just supposed to agree.

  My eyes are locked on his. I can’t bring myself to look away, no matter how hard I try. “We can’t do this again, Leo.”

  “We won’t. Next time, you’ll be sober and begging for my touch.”

  Butterflies start to buzz around my stomach at his words. Or maybe it’s the liquor still sloshing around, waiting for its perfect moment to remind me of all the ways I fucked up. I swallow down every bit of lust this man fuels in me and lift my chin, ever defiant.

  He leans forward like he’s about to kiss me. I hold my breath, wanting him to both do it and not at all at the same time.

  I pull away, moving quickly toward the door, and I glance over my shoulder. “Forget I exist.”

  “We’re not done, bella,” he tells me as the door closes.

  4

  Daphne

  Michelle calls as I’m trying to pull myself together and somehow make myself presentable for the family luncheon at the bar.

  “Whore, where did you disappear to last night?” she asks, because Michelle’s nosy as fuck.

  “I didn’t feel well, so I went to bed early.”

  “I knocked on your hotel room this morning, but you didn’t answer.”

  She’s fishing, but I’m not biting.

  “I passed out and didn’t hear you.”

  “Let me walk down there now.”

  “No!” My voice comes out much louder than I intend. I know I have to cover my tracks and quick. “I already left. I wanted to shower at home before heading to the bar.”

  There’s a pause, and I know she’s about to call bullshit. “Hmm,” Michelle grunts. “I could’ve sworn I saw you leave with that guy from last night.”

  I drop my head forward, wishing she would’ve just come out and said something to begin with. “You’re an asshole.”

  She laughs on the other end of the phone. “I wanted to see what cockamamie story you’d come up with.”

  “I was so freaking drunk. Why did you let me leave with him?”

  “I tried to stop you. I called your name, but you seemed oblivious to everything and everyone except for him.”

  “What a fucking disaster.”

  “Well, we’ve all been there. It’s done now. Move on.”

  “Michelle, that’s the thing.” I stare into the mirror, giving myself the look my mother used to give me when she was disappointed in my behavior. “You know who he is, right?”

  “The hot guy?” She pauses for a second. “Nope.”

  “Leo Conti.”

  She gasps. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Yep.”

  “Stop fucking lying to me.”

  “It’s true. God, I wish I were lying,” I groan.

  “You seriously fucked Mario Conti’s kid?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper and toss my eyeliner pencil back in the drawer. “But that kid is all man.” There’s no way I can focus enough to avoid looking like someone out of those How Not to Apply Makeup videos on the internet.

  “You know that’s messed up, right?”

  “I don’t get involved in my father’s world. I drank too much. That’s my only defense.”

  “Daphne.” I can picture her shaking her head at my sheer stupidity. “Stay away from that man. His father and your father…”

  “I know. I know. I don’t have plans to ever see him again.”

  “Was he good, at least?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” I wince as I say the words.

  “That’s a shame.” Michelle laughs. “There’s going to be blowback eventually, and it would be nice at least to have a fond memory or two to look back on.”

  “Shut up. He said he’s a businessman. I don’t really know anything about him except I made an epic mistake.”

  “Did he at least have a bangin’ body underneath that suit?”

  “The best I’ve ever se
en,” I say honestly.

  “Better than Tommy Pasquale?”

  He follows me everywhere.

  “Girl, better than any male on the planet.”

  “Big dick?”

  “Perfect. Long and thick.”

  “Fuck. All the good ones are either taken, unavailable, or off-limits. I swear, it’s tough out here.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.” I pull on my sandals, wishing my mother would’ve canceled Sunday dinner, but that’s not her style. “I got to run. I’ll see you at work tonight, yeah?”

  “I’m going to do some digging before I come in.”

  “No. Absolutely not. Do not ask around about him, Michelle. I don’t want our names linked even in casual conversation.”

  But I know, no matter what I say, Michelle’s going to stick her nose right where it doesn’t belong. That’s what we do for each other, and it’s why she’s my best friend. She always has my back. Always. Doesn’t matter if I’m in the wrong, she’s willing to go down with the ship.

  “I’ll be discreet,” she promises before hanging up.

  I’m not sure she even understands what that word means.

  An hour later, I’m at the bar, and my father is standing in the middle of the room, clinking his fork against his wineglass to get everyone’s attention.

  This isn’t a normal Sunday dinner. My mother decided to invite the out of town guests to the bar for one last hurrah to close out the wedding weekend. Thankfully, she didn’t cook and was smart enough to have the event catered from Dino’s down the street.

  “First, I want to thank everyone for coming to celebrate with us. We’re overjoyed to have Delilah as part of our family.” My father pauses and glances down at my mother, who’s beaming from ear to ear. “Second, as the years pass by, Betty and I understand how important family is, and we wanted you to be the first to know we have officially decided to tie the knot.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath, which earns me a kick under the table from Angelo.

  “Seriously, Angelo.” I stare at him, arms crossed, totally annoyed. “Why now? You can’t be happy about this.”

  My parents have been together over thirty years, but they have never once seriously talked about getting married until this moment. It makes no sense. The time to do it was decades ago when they decided to start a family, not after we’re all already grown.

  “It makes total sense. They’re getting older, Daph.”

  Angelo’s words don’t sit well with me. I know the years are ticking by, but I still can’t think of my parents as old. Even though they both drive me crazy at times, I can’t imagine a world without them in it.

  “I need some air.”

  I quietly excuse myself from the table and slip into the back alleyway without anyone noticing. I’m leaning against the wall, scrolling through my social media and catching up on all the funny cat videos I’ve missed, when my father steps outside too.

  We stare at each other for a minute and don’t speak.

  The last words I uttered to my father before they took him away in handcuffs were not the most heartwarming.

  In my defense, I was angry.

  What girl wouldn’t be when her father’s about to be locked up for years because of a choice he made, fully knowing the consequences?

  My father runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair and stares at the ground as he kicks some gravel. “Hey, baby girl. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” I tuck my phone into my back pocket and try to be cordial. “Why aren’t you inside with your guests?”

  He finally brings his eyes to mine. “I wanted to check on you.” He ticks his head toward the door. “I saw you run out of there.”

  “I just needed some air.”

  “Want me to go?”

  “No,” I say quickly.

  “Still mad after all these years?” he asks.

  “I don’t know what I am, Papa,” I answer honestly.

  Part of me is happy that he’s okay and back under the same roof as my mother. But then there’s the other part that knows he’s just going to be up to his old tricks soon enough, possibly landing back in prison. Each time, he seems to stay out a little longer than before, which has never been easy for anyone, especially my mother.

  “You guys have done really well with the bar,” he tells me, changing the subject.

  “We’ve worked a lot of hours.”

  He comes to stand in front of me. It’s my first real chance to get a good look at my father with the sun shining overhead.

  My brothers get their good looks from my father. The rich olive skin, the piercing eyes, and strong Gallo features. My father’s DNA is definitely more dominant than my mother’s. I could’ve very easily had red hair and ivory skin instead of looking every bit the Italian princess.

  “Don’t forget to enjoy life a little. It passes in the blink of an eye. One day you’re young, thinking you can rule the world, and the next thing you know… Bam!” He smacks his hands together, making me jump. “You’re praying you make it just one more day.”

  This is a side of my father I haven’t seen before. He’s always taken life by the balls without a single care about the consequences. He’s never really discussed getting older, but maybe five years with nothing but time to think will do that to a person.

  “What about you, Papa? Do you have another five years in you to spend behind bars?”

  My father reaches out and places his hands on my shoulders, much like he did when I was a little girl. “Time is too precious, Daphne. I don’t want to spend another moment away from my family.”

  “But?” I can feel there’s more to what he’s saying. There usually is when it comes to my father. He talks around things, always avoiding what he really wants to say.

  “There’s no buts.”

  There’s always a but with Santino Gallo.

  “You’re giving up the life? Going straight?”

  The small dimple on his right cheek deepens. “Something like that, kid.”

  “You either are, or you aren’t.” I’m point-blank, unwilling to dance around my father’s statement.

  “I learned a thing or two in the joint.”

  That’s exactly what I was afraid he’d say. Spending five years surrounded by nothing but criminals has to allow someone an opportunity to hone their skills a little bit more. I’m sure he picked up some tricks of the trade, but he needs to remember, every guy in there wasn’t smart enough to avoid being arrested.

  “I promised your mom I wouldn’t go back.” When he speaks, he doesn’t look me in the eye. “I’m going to stay clean. Be on the up-and-up.”

  “I really hope so.” I mean those words.

  There’s nothing I want more than to have my father around. If for no other reason than to be there for my mother.

  I worry about her being alone.

  The last five years have been hard on her. She found hobbies to take up her time, but there’s only so many things a person can make before they hit their breaking point.

  I wait for him to release me, but he doesn’t. He stares at me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I missed my baby girl,” he whispers in my ear.

  I feel like a little girl again. I’m hopeful for a minute. Thinking maybe my father has finally grown up, but then I remember he’s rarely truthful and getting out of the life is hard, especially for an old-timer like him.

  “I missed you too,” I tell him because I did miss having him around. Even though he adds a special brand of insanity, the bar and Sunday dinners haven’t been the same without him.

  “Come celebrate with us,” he says, still holding me tightly.

  “When’s the big day?” I ask out of morbid curiosity.

  “We’re not rushing into anything.”

  Of course they aren’t because that would be totally absurd. Only my father would think getting married sooner rather than later would be rushing into something. I swear they’ve had
the longest courtship on the planet.

  “It’s only been thirty years, Papa.” I shake my head as I start to laugh.

  “What’s on your neck?” He leans forward and brushes my hair off my shoulder.

  “I don’t know. What is it?” I turn my head, giving him a better look.

  “It looks like a hickey.” He moves closer, inspecting my skin like he used to after I had a date. “It is a hickey.”

  Son of a…

  My eyes widen. I know exactly who left me with a sucker bite like we were in high school. “Jesus,” I mutter and instantly want to track Leo down and punch him square in his junk.

  “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

  I look at the ground, avoiding my father’s eyes and any chance I’ll tell him the truth. “I’m not.” I cover the mark with my palm and take a step backward. “Someone was just being an asshole.”

  “What’s his name?” he asks, trying to be fatherly for the first time in over five years.

  “We better get inside. I’m sure everyone’s looking for us,” I say, trying to avoid the conversation entirely.

  All I need is for my father to hear the name Leo Conti.

  His head would probably explode.

  5

  Daphne

  I’m startled awake by rustling on the fire escape outside my bedroom window. Last night, I slept with my window open and the curtains pulled closed, foolishly thinking I’d be safe. I should’ve known better. But the night’s cool air was too hard to resist in my second-floor loft.

  Reaching under the pillow, I wrap my fingers around the cold steel handle of a gun. I always keep it there just in case.

  I roll onto the floor, thinking I look like someone in an action movie, but I realize I’m missing the sexy swagger. My knees dig into the hardwood, and I grit my teeth, trying to stop myself from crying. As I crawl toward the window, I’m barely breathing, trying not to make a sound.

  I crouch down, aiming the gun toward the curtains and resting my finger on the trigger just in case the visitor decides to come inside. Maybe I’m totally overreacting, but I’m not willing to take any chances, especially with my father now walking the streets.