Flow

by Chelle Bliss

She eyes me curiously and takes a step closer but still keeps her distance.

  “I’d like to talk to you about Daphne.”

  She tilts her head, and her stare intensifies. “Are you the father?” she asks.

  I glance around, knowing being on the street and in front of the Gallo bar probably isn’t the safest place for me at the moment. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”

  “Answer the question, dear.”

  I nod. “I am, Mrs. Gallo.”

  She smiles before glancing up at the building behind her. “Come up for a coffee, and we’ll talk.”

  I shake my head, knowing I can’t step foot in the Gallo house. “I can’t.”

  Her eyebrows draw down. “How about the little bakery down the street?”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “I’ll walk,” she tells me, knowing better than to get in a car with a stranger.

  Ten minutes later, we’re sitting at a table, staring at each other over a fresh cup of coffee and a cannoli. I’ve spilled my guts, telling her about my relationship with her daughter.

  “Leo, give her time. She’ll come around,” Mrs. Gallo tells me, but I still haven’t dropped the biggest problem in her lap.

  I move the mug around the table and know I have to come clean. “The problem isn’t between Daphne and me, Mrs. Gallo.”

  “Oh dear.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “What is it, then?”

  “First, I want to say I’m falling in love with your daughter, and I want to do right by her and our baby.”

  “Just rip the Band-Aid off and tell me.”

  “My last name’s Conti.” I lean back, waiting for her to start yelling or maybe run out of the bakery screaming bloody murder. Worst-case scenario is the little woman is packing heat and decides to end my life right here in the middle of Mazzella’s Bakery.

  She blinks a few times and stares at me. “Like Mario Conti?” she asks without moving.

  “He’s my father.”

  “Oh,” she mumbles and touches the base of her neck, finding the cross hanging from a gold chain. “This is bad.”

  “I know.” I run my palms down and back up my jeans. Bad isn’t really the right word for the mess we’ve created.

  “What were you two thinking?” She shakes her head.

  “We weren’t,” I say honestly. “I never expected to fall in love with your daughter, but here I am. In love, with a baby on the way.”

  Mrs. Gallo leans over the table and wraps her hands around her coffee mug. “So, I take it you’re sticking around?”

  I nod. “I’ve asked Daphne to marry me.”

  Mrs. Gallo glances up toward the ceiling and curses under her breath in Italian. “Did she say yes?”

  “She said I was crazy.”

  She finally cracks a smile, but it quickly vanishes. “Are you part of your father’s…”

  “No, ma’am. I’ve never been part of my father’s business.”

  I never would be either. Staying out of the life, his world, was my driving force through college and the reason I worked my ass off to make Excellence the premier hotel chain in the country. I never wanted to be part of his world after seeing the carnage his work caused around the city.

  “Well.” She pauses, turning her coffee mug in her hands. “It’s not going to be easy, but here’s what you need to do.”

  Mrs. Gallo spends the next hour laying out a plan to help keep Daphne and me both safe. I sit quietly, listening to her talk because she knows both men at the root of the problem. She is wise beyond her years. Daphne’s so much like her mother—strong, funny, and beautiful.

  “Can you do that?” she asks as soon as she finishes.

  “I’ll do anything for Daphne and to keep my baby safe,” I tell her.

  17

  Daphne

  From two blocks away, I see Leo walking toward the front doors of Hook & Hustle. This can’t be good. I scream his name and wave my arms like a maniac, but he doesn’t hear me over the police sirens blaring on the next street. Walking faster, I make an effort to focus on my breathing, trying not to have a panic attack at all the ways this could go wrong.

  Leo shouldn’t be anywhere near the bar. It’s too dangerous, between Johnny, my father, and any other men in my father’s organization that seem to hang around like barflies. They’re always on the lookout and willing to take out any threat before the enemy has a chance to strike first.

  I push open the door and gasp.

  My father’s holding a gun straight out in front of him, and it’s pointing at Leo’s face. “Get out of here, Daphne,” he says, only glancing at me for a moment before bringing his eyes back to Leo.

  I don’t move. I can’t. I’m too petrified that my father will accidentally pull the trigger. “Papa, don’t,” I plead, clutching my chest as I try to breathe.

  “He’s the enemy. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

  “Mr. Gallo, I’m only here to speak with you,” Leo says, but he doesn’t move, knowing full well my father wouldn’t think twice about killing him.

  Angelo walks out of the back room, and his eyes instantly widen. “Pop, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Shut up, Angelo,” I hiss, wishing he’d go right back into the back room.

  “I have nothing to say to a Conti.” My father’s eyes narrow, and his top lip curls.

  “I thought you were leaving the life, Papa,” I remind him, still in shock over what I walked in on.

  “Take this shit outside,” Angelo tells my father, not realizing this isn’t shit and the street isn’t the place to let the world know I was knocked up by Leo Conti. “You need to leave, Daphne.”

  I hold my hand up, stopping Angelo as he starts to walk toward me. “Don’t,” I tell him.

  I’ve never seen this side of my father. Everything he did was hidden away and out of sight. His ruthless side was only spoken about in whispers and during his highly publicized trial.

  “I am, baby, but I’ll go back to prison to keep you and my family safe.”

  I can’t just stand here and let my dad shoot the father of my baby. “He’s the father,” I say quickly, not even thinking twice about telling my dad if it means I can save Leo’s life.

  My father’s gaze slices to mine. “He’s what?”

  “Oh fuck,” Angelo mutters and covers his face with his hand.

  “Leo and I are in love and we’re having this baby, Papa.” My hand covers my stomach, instinctively wanting to protect the tiny person inside.

  I thought my words would defuse the situation and make my father back down. But so far, it hasn’t worked.

  “You knocked up my kid?” My father’s tone is venomous.

  I take a step forward and hold my hand out, motioning for him to give me the gun. “Dad, be reasonable,” I say, not scared of my father, but worried for Leo. “We love each other.”

  “He’s a Conti,” he repeats like Leo’s last name makes one damn bit of a difference to me.

  “And I’m a Gallo. Would you want Mario to hold a gun on me?”

  “Never,” my father answers quickly.

  “Please, Mr. Gallo. Let me explain,” Leo pleads. “I’m not involved in my father’s business. You should know that.”

  I walk between the gun and Leo, stopping any chance my father will pull the trigger.

  “Move,” my father tells me, but I remain defiant and still.

  “Bella,” Leo says in that rich, sinful voice that started this entire mess. He grips my arms and lifts me easily off the floor. “Never put yourself in unnecessary danger. The baby.” His eyes dip to my stomach as he sets me down at his side. “No one is more important than our baby.”

  My father’s hard, icy glare lessens. “You’d give your life for my kid?”

  “The mother of my child,” Leo replies, raising his chin without an ounce of fear. “I’d do anything to protect them, even if that means giving my life to keep them safe.”

  My father finally drops the gun to his s
ide. “How could you two be so stupid?”

  This is progress.

  “Papa, love isn’t always rational.” Leo grips my hand tightly as I speak. “We never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Gallo. I came here to talk to you man-to-man about what happened and ask for your blessing.”

  “I could’ve killed you.” My father drags his free hand down his face and groans.

  “Put the gun away, Papa.” I walk toward him slowly. Leo reaches for me, trying to stop me, but I push his hand aside. “Let’s talk about this.”

  Angelo stalks across the bar, locking the front door as my father sets the gun down on the table next to him. “I can’t believe this shit,” Angelo hisses.

  I don’t know if he’s referring to my father pulling a weapon in our place of business or that I got knocked up by Leo.

  “How stupid can you be to pull a gun on someone in our bar?” Angelo shakes his head and answers my question like he’s inside my head.

  “I wasn’t thinking.” Papa grimaces.

  Leo walks up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, squeezing. “You should go,” he tells me, like I’m going to listen.

  “I’m staying,” I announce. I can’t trust my father and Leo alone. And not so soon after my father was willing to put a bullet in him.

  Leo’s grip tightens. “We’ll be fine, bella. Let me talk to your father, man-to-man.”

  I peer over my shoulder at Leo. “I don’t trust either of you alone.”

  “I’ll stay,” Angelo says. “I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

  “Angelo.” Leo dips his head at my brother, his old friend from when they were little.

  “Leo.” Angelo almost cracks a smile.

  Leo turns to me and smiles softly. “Go be with your mother and let the men figure things out.”

  Hello, 1950s. “You can’t be serious? Are you really this much of a chauvinist?”

  “No, Daphne. I’m not.” He shakes his head and rests his forehead against mine. “This is about respect. Respect for your family and your father. I need to talk with him and explain. It’s the only way shit will work out for us.”

  I tip my head up so our lips are almost touching and stare into his eyes. “Okay, but tread lightly.”

  Even with Angelo as a middleman, things are bound to get heated. My father has never been known for his reasonable side and has always been quick to fly off the handle. I fear that leaving Leo alone with him is a recipe for disaster.

  Leo kisses me softly, not lingering too long because my family’s watching.

  As I back away, I grab the gun off the table. “I’m taking this with me. Just in case.”

  Surprisingly, my father doesn’t argue as I re-engage the safety and make my way toward the staircase. I look over my shoulder, staring at the three of them, hoping they can find a way to make peace.

  When I turn around, my mother’s sitting halfway up the staircase with her finger over her lips. “Shh,” she whispers. “Sit.” She motions to the step.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I squeeze in next to her.

  She takes my hand in hers, intertwining our fingers. “Listening.”

  “But why?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” She shakes her head, putting her index finger back in front of her mouth.

  We sit in silence with our hands locked, listening to the familiar sound of chairs scraping against the hardwood floors.

  “Did you do this on purpose?” my father asks Leo.

  “No, Mr. Gallo. I’m not that type of man.”

  “I heard you were at my son’s wedding. Why were you there?”

  “I own the hotel,” Leo says calmly, telling my father something I still can’t believe.

  “You do?”

  “Yes. When I saw who had booked the ballroom and heard rumors you were being released, I walked into the wedding to see if you’d show up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because even though I’m not part of my father’s business, my life, along with that of my sisters’, would be in danger from your newfound freedom. I needed to know if I had to beef up security.”

  “We’ve never targeted family.”

  “But it’s easy for us to get caught in the cross fire, sir. You should know that better than anyone.”

  “I do. So, how did you meet my daughter?”

  “We bumped into each other at the wedding.”

  Leo’s smart enough to leave out the good stuff like how I ended up naked in his bed or left the reception, wanting to fuck his brains out.

  “And?” my father says, knowing there has to be more.

  “The connection was immediate, sir. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I wanted her.” Leo coughs, probably realizing what a stupid fucking thing that is to say to a girl’s father. “I knew I wanted to get to know her better.”

  I grimace and look over at my mother, but she’s laughing. Betty can always find the humor in the stickiest situations. I’m sure that’s the only way she’s been able to stay with my father as long as she has.

  “Well, you certainly did that.”

  “I know you hate my father, but I’m asking you for your blessing. I want to be with your daughter. I want to love her. She’s carrying our baby, and I want to give them the best life possible. Take care of them.”

  I roll my eyes, but my mother pats my hand, silently telling me to shut the fuck up.

  “She doesn’t need someone to take care of her, Leo. She’s a strong, independent woman. She always has been and always will be. She’s like her mother in that. Fiery and full of life.”

  I tear up a little listening to my father speak about me.

  “If you think you’re going to tell her what to do and run her life, you’re going to get a rude awakening.”

  Leo’s laughter fills the bar. “I’ve learned that about her. It may be the thing I love most about Daphne.”

  They’re being too nice to each other. I’m sitting on the edge of the step, waiting for shit to go south. My father is being way too sweet, especially to a Conti.

  “She’s already pregnant, so there’s nothing I can do. I can’t forbid you from seeing her. What’s done is done. I’m handing my business over to Johnny Marioni. Any beef I had with your father is in the past. For the sake of my grandchild, I’m willing to make amends and forget whatever bad blood we had in the past.”

  “You’re done?” I can hear the shock in Leo’s voice.

  “I’ve spent enough time away from my family. I’m too old to go back to prison. It’s a young man’s game, and I don’t have a taste for it anymore.”

  “I wish my father thought that way.”

  “He needs a Betty. She’ll set his ass straight. I swear, if I would’ve been popped one more time, Betty would’ve skinned me alive.”

  I smile at my mom. Although she’s nosy and over the top sometimes, I aspire to be just like her.

  “I see all Gallo women are strong,” Leo replies.

  “But they love hard, Leo. Remember, for all of their bravado, there’s a kind soul and a soft heart underneath that tough exterior. Don’t mess this up, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

  I guess this is progress. Although my father has threatened Leo again, it has nothing to do with his name and everything to do with how he treats me.

  Someone should’ve set my father straight back in the day. He wouldn’t have been a dumb shit for so many years. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he has changed, and for once, no one will win the over-under.

  18

  Leo

  “I’ll be fine,” I say to Daphne over the phone before I walk into my father’s home. “Don’t worry.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already had a gun pointed at you today.”

  I laugh. “If I can survive your father, I can survive anything.”

  “Your dad’s going to flip.”

  “I know, but he’ll just have to deal with his shit. It has no place in m
y life. If he can’t, I’ll choose you over him and walk away forever.”

  “I’d hate for that to happen.”

  “You don’t know my father. It may be a blessing.” I step onto the front stoop and take a deep breath. “I’ve got to run. I’ll call you when I leave.”

  “Good luck, Leo,” she says sweetly.

  My father’s waiting for me in the dining room, reading the newspaper and drinking espresso like he does every afternoon.

  As I step into the room, he pushes his thick black glasses higher on his nose and glances up from the paper. “I’m here,” he says with absolutely no warmth in his voice as he folds the paper in half and sets it off to the side. “What’s so important to take you away from your work?”

  I pour myself a cup of espresso, letting him stew a bit. He’s watching me closely like he always does. My father’s an observer. He never says much, not unless it’s important to him. “You’re going to be a grandfather again,” I say casually, not really knowing how to start the conversation about Daphne Gallo.

  “Is Alicia pregnant again?”

  I laugh at how quick he rushes to judging my sisters, especially Alicia. She’s thirty-five and has three children by two different men, which in my father’s eyes, makes her a disgrace.

  “No. Alicia’s not pregnant, Pop.” I lean back, holding the tiny espresso cup in one hand, hoping like hell this will go easier than I expect it to. “I’m having a baby.”

  My father’s eyebrows rise, and it’s the first time he doesn’t look angry to hear he’s having another grandchild. “It’s about time.” He pushes his cup to the side and leans forward. “I’ve been waiting for you to carry on the family name.”

  “Well, that’s the thing.” I pause and sip the rich, dark espresso and revel in the taste of the old country.

  “Please don’t tell me you knocked up some gold-digging whore.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, imagining the worst thing he can think of, but he’s way off base.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”

  He waves his hand over the table in circles. “Out with it, son.”

  “The mother is Daphne Gallo.”