by Chelle Bliss
“Where are we going?” My voice comes out harsher than I’d planned, but I plaster a smile across my face instead of grimacing in an attempt not to come off as a complete asshole.
“Well…” Vinnie clears his throat, and I brace myself. “I know you don’t want to go to the strip club.”
“No,” I blurt out. “I have the only tits I ever want to see at home.”
“Amen,” Joe agrees as his brothers and mine nod their heads in agreement.
“Yeah, Bianca would have my balls anyway.” Vinnie glances toward the ceiling and sighs.
“Already does,” Lucio mutters under his breath so quietly, Vinnie doesn’t hear.
Thank fuck.
“I made reservations at the best steakhouse in town, and then we’re going to a gentlemen’s club.”
“Dude, I said no strip clubs,” I remind him, grinding my teeth together to stop myself from yelling at him.
He shakes his head quickly. “I know, fucker. It’s not that kind of ‘gentlemen’s club.’” He uses air quotes on the last two words. “It’s truly a club for men only. We can play cards, hang out and smoke cigars, or whatever the fuck we want to do without having to worry about women bothering us.”
The Vinnie from a year ago wouldn’t have worried about attention from women. He never would’ve made a plan that involved only men. Never. But that’s what love does. For once, he’s no longer thinking with his dick, even though that’s where his love apparently started.
I slowly shake my head. “You really are whipped, huh?”
My statement earns me a middle finger. “You can fuck right off. Every guy around this table is whipped in some fashion.”
“Unless you’re like James,” Morgan says with a bit of laughter.
I’ve missed Morgan.
I remember the day he left for boot camp, waving to us over his shoulder as he walked inside the hotel, ready to join the army. Aunt Fran couldn’t bear to take him herself, and instead of my mother going alone with her, she piled us into the car to wish our cousin farewell. Never did I think he wouldn’t come back. I always thought he’d be a Southsider again and come back into the fold. The guy had a restless spirit, though, especially after he was a SEAL.
James throws up his hands. “Oh, no. Don’t think I’m the boss all the time. Izzy can hold her own.”
“Uh-huh.” Anthony laughs and rubs his chin, eyeing his brother-in-law. “You let her whip your ass too? Or does she put you over her knee and spank you?”
I lean back in my seat, waiting for the fireworks to fly, or more likely, fists, as James’s eyes darken and focus on Anthony.
“Oh.” Vinnie moves his chair a little closer to the table. “You two get down like that?” He waggles his eyebrows, totally amused.
James tips his chin up, turning to Vinnie across the table with a completely straight and unreadable face. “Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she’d be more than happy to answer.”
“James, are you trying to end his pro career before he’s really had a chance to get started?” Thomas presses his fingers against his temples. “I swear to fuck, Izzy will eat him for dinner.”
Vinnie chuckles. “Izzy’s a little thing, isn’t she? I think I can hold my own.”
Laughter erupts around the table because everyone knows Izzy’s trouble with a capital T. She may look small, but fuck, not even I would mess with her.
“Then ask her,” James tells Vinnie with a smirk.
“Fuck.” Vinnie runs his hand back through his hair and nods, playing it cool. “I will, man.”
“Don’t.” I place my hand on Vinnie’s arm. “Don’t fuck with Izzy. Like, for real. If you like your balls in any way, don’t say shit to her.”
“Come on.” Vinnie doesn’t look convinced. “I’ve put up with Daphne for years.”
“Daphne’s a cream puff compared to Izzy, kid. Don’t fuck with her, or you’ll get bit,” Joe tells Vinnie, pointing his finger at him to drive the point home. “I’m dead serious. We taught her to fight—and I don’t mean like a girl. She’s South Side one hundred percent. She will not hesitate to kick your ass.”
“Our ride is here,” Lucio says, ticking his chin toward the doorway and climbing quickly to his feet. “Let’s get a move on. I’m starving.”
“Roger’s meeting us later. He had to stay at the office late,” Vinnie says, jamming his phone into his pocket as he heads toward the door.
“Good,” I say. I’m happy my soon-to-be brother-in-law will be joining us. Technically, he’s not my brother-in-law at all, but what else would I call him? He’s like a brother to Tilly, the only other family besides us she has. Therefore, he’s one of us too.
I lock up the bar as the guys pile into the party bus. I’m happy we decided to close down for a few nights to celebrate, opting to spend time with the family over anything else.
In the end, that’s all we have anyway.
Money isn’t important, things are irrelevant, but family is the only other constant besides time.
2
Tilly
Betty’s taken the kids for the night. She said I needed a girls’ night out before the big day. I told her I didn’t want to go out, and I’d rather be home with Brax and Tate than anywhere else in the world.
She wouldn’t hear it.
“Trust me, sweetheart. You’ll thank me someday,” she said when she picked them up. “Your cousins will be here soon to get you.”
Cousins? No one said anything about meeting the cousins tonight. I figured I’d hang out with Daphne, Bianca, and Delilah for the night, drinking a few martinis and laughing about our crazy men.
Clearly, they had other plans and didn’t bother to share them with me.
I knew the guys were all together, and I should’ve known the women would be too. I begged them not to make a big deal out of tonight. It is my second marriage, after all, and I’m not a young kid, looking to party and get drunk, having my final night of freedom.
I’d been alone long enough.
I’m getting married tomorrow.
I repeat the words over and over in my head as I change my clothes, fix my makeup, and pull my hair into a tight ponytail. The entire thing still feels surreal. I never thought I’d walk down the aisle again. Figured I’d be alone forever because moving on was too painful and the memory of Mitchell haunted me sometimes too.
But then Angelo happened.
That man, with his fine ass, sweet lips, and rough hands, swept me off my feet, not giving me a chance to catch my breath. The kids just sealed the deal. Especially Tate. That little girl had me wrapped around her finger from the moment I met her. She knew it too, using my feelings for her to her advantage, but I didn’t mind.
The door opens downstairs as I smooth out the top of my hair, and my fingers begin to tremble, almost ruining my updo. I push away the panic and take a deep breath, looking at myself in the mirror one last time.
“You can do this,” I tell myself, like I need a pep talk to be around people.
I’ve always been a people person, but there’s something so intimidating about the fact that I’m meeting his family. My family.
Holy shit.
Not only am I marrying a man, but his entire, huge-ass Italian family comes as part of the package. The thought is overwhelming after being along for so very long.
“Tilly! Where the hell are you, girl?” Daphne yells up the stairway as I’m still trying to pull on my strappy sandals, but they’re not cooperating.
“Coming!” I yell back, hopping on one foot, trying like hell not to fall over. I catch myself on the edge of the bed and sit quickly, somehow getting my sandals on with my shaking fingers.
I take a deep breath as I climb to my feet and go to the full-length mirror near the closet. I look good. No, I look damn good. I only wish Angelo could see me looking this fabulous, rocking my sexy outfit and with my hair up the way he likes it.
“It’ll be okay,” I say to my reflection before I take off toward the ha
llway. As I make my way downstairs, I see them all gathered in the foyer, talking and laughing, but they’re not looking at me.
“There she is,” Daphne says, meeting my eyes and waving her hand in my direction.
Everyone turns to look at me, and I feel the flush across my face. “Hi,” I squeak, unable to play it cool.
Shit.
They’re all beautiful. I should’ve known. They are Gallos, after all. Or at least married to one. I don’t mean cute or a little pretty but drop-dead gorgeous.
“This is Mia, Max, Izzy, Race, Angel, and Suzy,” Daphne rattles off, pointing to each one as she says their name.
I wave, not bothering to talk because I don’t want to sound like a tween girl.
Daphne grabs my hand as soon as I’m close enough and pulls me to her. “Isn’t she perfect?”
I don’t know what to do or how to act as they all just stare at me. This must be what it’s like to be a zoo animal. “Oh, stop,” I say with a hint of laughter.
“I can see why Angelo’s head over heels for you,” a woman says, pushing her dark hair off her shoulders. “You have the sweet, innocent thing nailed like our Suzy.” She turns to the blond woman standing behind her. “Isn’t that right, Sunshine?”
“Izzy, you know I’m not innocent, and I’m sure as hell not sweet anymore.”
Okay. So, the sassy one is Izzy. Angelo clued me in about his little cousin and how she’s a spitfire and one hundred percent trouble. He said she was like Daphne, but scarier, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit.
Then there’s Suzy, who Izzy calls Sunshine. She does look sweet and innocent, but I know she’s married to Angelo’s cousin Joe, and I’ve been told he’s pretty badass, covered in tattoos, and drives a Harley.
Izzy laughs loudly. “You’re a complete whore, but I remember when you weren’t so easy.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m not easy,” Suzy snaps back.
“Did you or did you not sleep with my brother the night you met him?” Izzy stares at Suzy with a small smirk playing on her lips.
I widen my eyes. I don’t know if I should take cover or stay still because I’m pretty sure there’s about to be fireworks.
“He was just so damn hot on that bike, and I was drunk—”
“You were as sober as they come,” Izzy interrupts. “Don’t lie.”
Suzy pulls her white cardigan tighter around her body and squares her shoulders. “Um, if I remember right, you slept with James the night you met him too.”
“I was drunk.” Izzy waves her off.
“Pot meet kettle,” a woman with long wavy hair and olive skin says, pushing them both aside. “I’m Mia, Mike’s wife.”
Mike is the championship fighter. I’ve seen pictures of him, and he’s enormous but has the kindest smile.
“Oh, sweet Jesus. I’m not defining myself by a man, even my man. I’m Max,” the woman at her side says.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say, trying not to run upstairs and barricade myself in our room.
“Anthony’s wife,” Daphne whispers in my ear, which earns her an eyebrow raise from Max because she wasn’t super quiet about it.
This is so overwhelming. More than I thought it would be. I know I should be a little more outgoing. Hell, they aren’t holding back. But I can’t seem to stop myself from digging my fingernails into my palm to settle my ass down.
“Shall we go?” Daphne asks, ticking her head toward the door. “The limo is waiting.”
“Limo?” My mouth falls open because I’ve never been in a limo.
I suddenly feel lame because I’m the only one in the room that seems even remotely excited about this.
Daphne nods. “Well, yeah. We’re getting shit-faced, and we needed a designated driver. None of these bitches was going to stay sober.” She pitches her finger over her shoulder toward everyone. “So, we have a driver and a city waiting for us.”
“Nothing too crazy, right?” I raise an eyebrow at my soon-to-be sister-in-law because I know how she is.
“Of course,” she scoffs like it’s absolutely absurd of me to think she had something risqué planned.
“There better be at least a naked chest somewhere,” the redhead says, blushing a little bit when Suzy smacks her arm.
“Tonight’s like Vegas. What happens tonight stays between us. Got me?” Daphne narrows her eyes as she looks around at her cousins. “I mean it. No pictures. No videos. No memories. No evidence.”
“I like the way you think.” Izzy smirks.
Suzy rolls her eyes, but the rest of the group is nodding along. I know we’re in trouble. The night isn’t going to be a girls’ night at the spa or sipping wine at some dark, cozy bar.
Nope.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I pull the front door closed, making sure it’s locked before following behind them toward the waiting limo.
“First stop is Gavin’s for some martinis, then we have tickets to a show,” Daphne says over her shoulder.
“What kind of show?” My stomach flips a little because Daphne’s looking at me in such a way that I know she isn’t telling me everything.
“It’s like the ballet.”
“Like the ballet?” I ask flatly.
She nods quickly and hooks her arm with mine, leading me toward the sleek black limo. “There’re men dancing.”
I stop walking. “I said no strippers.”
“You said no penis.” She giggles. “They’ll have on bottoms. Don’t worry so much.” She pulls on my arm, trying to get me to move, but I don’t.
“Daphne.” My voice is laced with agitation because she didn’t listen to me at all. I don’t know why I thought she would. Daphne always does what Daphne wants to do.
“We’ll take a vote over drinks, okay? Majority wins.”
I think about her words for a moment, wondering if I’m being overly sensitive. I don’t want to ruin the evening for everyone. They’ve come so far for my wedding, and the last thing I want to do is be the one to nix the entire evening. I am not Tilly the Party Pooper. I never wanted to be that girl.
“When did you become such a prude?” she asks, knowing full well I’m not.
“I’m not a prude,” I huff out, completely annoyed.
She tilts her head, smirking at me. “So totally are. It’s not like they’re going to be waving their dicks in your face. It’s just some naked chest, for shit’s sake.”
Part of me knows she’s right. The club is public, so it’s not like anything salacious will happen, but there’s still a part of me that’s completely uncomfortable with seeing another man half undressed and him throwing his junk in my face.
“Does your brother know?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Of course,” she says, but her eyes don’t meet mine.
I cross my arms over my chest as the girls inside the limo gawk at us. “He does?”
“Yes. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea, but I promised him nothing over the top would happen.”
“No lap dances,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes.
She practically breaks out into a happy dance at my words. “Deal,” she squeals before turning to the girls and raising her arms in triumph. “Drinks and dicks, bitches.”
An hour later and two martinis down, my head’s already buzzing from the alcohol. The last thing I want to do tonight is get drunk. I don’t want to walk down the aisle with a hangover, barely able to focus on the man waiting at the altar for me.
“Another?” Max asks, tipping her head toward my empty glass.
I shake my head, trying to pace myself. These girls, the cousins and my soon-to-be sisters-in-law, sure can toss the drinks back without seeming to be affected by them. “I better slow down a little,” I say, slurring the last word a bit before breaking out into a fit of giggles.
“She’s cut off,” Izzy, whom I’ve realized is bossier than Daphne, says and shakes her fingers. “We can’t get her drunk.”
“Thank fuck you have a late wedding.�
� Delilah lifts her glass to her lips and stares at me from across the table. “I’d hate to be up at the ass-crack of dawn to get my hair done.”
I laugh at the word ass-crack, and I know I’m half in the bag. Liquor doesn’t usually have this much of an effect on me, but I hadn’t eaten much today, trying to fit into my already tight wedding gown tomorrow.
“What’s so funny?” Delilah stares at me, moving her glass around the tabletop in small little circles.
“You said ass-crack,” I blurt out before laughing louder, even snorting a little.
“I agree. She’s cut off,” Mia says quickly. “Let her sober up a little before you order her another one.”
I roll my eyes. “Is there a Gallo who isn’t bossy?”
“Nope,” Angel replies. “They’re all a pain in the ass, especially the men.”
Max swats Angel on the arm with the back of her hand. “Girl, Thomas is a walk in the park compared to Anthony.”
“I win the award for most controlling husband.” Izzy lifts her hands in the air and points down at herself. “Your men are all a walk in the park.”
Suzy, the cute perky blonde, gawks at Izzy. “You think Joe’s easy?” She laughs loudly and slaps the table. “Oh, James, spank me,” she teases, leaning forward and wiggling her ass a little bit for effect.
Izzy shakes her head. “That’s not how I say it, and you know it.”
Suzy clears her throat. “You’re right. It’s more like ‘Spank me, Sir.’” Then she pauses as Izzy stares at her over the rim of her martini glass. “Do you use Sir or Master?”
I raise my eyebrows. This is an interesting turn of events, and suddenly my laughter dies and I’m pulled into their conversation.
“It depends on my mood.” Izzy shrugs.
“Bullshit,” Max coughs and covers her mouth, hiding her amusement.
Izzy places her glass on the table, letting her hand slide down the stem. “What’s bullshit?”
“It depends on what he allows you to call him,” Max says with a crooked smirk.
“Oh.” Bianca suddenly becomes interested in the conversation and turns toward Izzy. “He’s a Dom?”
