The Promise (The 'Burg Series)

by Kristen Ashley

  Frankie.

  He kept thrusting into her wet, tight pussy, bending over her to put a hand on the counter and press his chest into her back, face in her neck, smelling and feeling her hair, fucking her cunt, hearing her gasp and whimper, everything that was his world centered on his woman.

  She tipped high and pressed up into his chest, her hips into his, moaning, “Benny.”

  He slid a hand over her belly, down, and found her clit.

  “Benny,” she gasped, her body jerking, one hand moving to cover his on the counter and curl over the top of it.

  He bent his knees and powered deep.

  Her neck twisted and her back arched as her cunt tightened around his cock and she cried out when she came.

  He took his finger from her clit, wrapped his arm around her belly, held her steady, and drove in deeper.

  She whimpered through it, clutching him tight with her pussy until she took him there. He shoved his face deeper into her neck and exploded on a grunt against her skin.

  He kept taking her, gliding his hand back down her belly and in, cupping her, feeling his cock slide in and out slowly, how wet she was, how deep she was breathing. Fuck, he couldn’t even see her face and everything he had from her was crazy-beautiful.

  She slid a hand down his forearm, his wrist, then covered his hand between her legs, holding there lightly but shifting her index finger so she could run it along his cock as he pulled it out and glided it back in.

  He buried his face deeper into her neck.

  Finally, he twisted his hand, taking hers from between her legs, and slid out. He straightened, put his hands to her hips, and turned her to face him. He pulled up her panties and pulled down the stretchy skirt to her sexy-as-fuck, threw-it-on-like-it-was-nothing, straight-from-the-pages-of-a-magazine tight black dress.

  He righted himself while brushing his lips against hers, her hands curling into the waistband of his jeans as he did.

  Finally, he lifted his head and said, “You can finish your donut now.”

  Her eyes were still hooded and sated from her climax.

  But still, pure Frankie, she whispered, “Annoying.”

  * * * * *

  “Don’t court that either, Frankie.”

  Lying on top of him on her couch, she lifted her head from his chest and looked down at him.

  They had been winding down after dinner, about to watch a movie, discussing which one to watch as Benny shuffled through Netflix, and somehow they got to the fact that Frankie had not heard from Cat since before the shooting.

  “Ben, she can disappear, but she’s never disappeared. I’m worried.”

  “Francesca, the last time I saw Cat and Art was at Vinnie’s wake. Before that, every time I saw them, they were half a step away from bein’ functional alcoholics. They were hammered at Vinnie’s wake, and watchin’ them, I figured they took that half a step but took out the functional part. They tried to leave with Art havin’ the keys to the car. Pop intervened. Art lost his mind and Manny and I had to step in, get ’em into a taxi.”

  Her eyes had grown wide while he talked, and when he was done, she asked, “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “How’d I miss that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was because your man had a hit carried out on him. He was dead at thirty-two. You were understandably beside yourself, grieving. And your sister, who should have been at your side holdin’ your hand, was downing vodka tonics like they were gonna outlaw vodka the next day.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she whispered. “That’s probably how I missed it.”

  He shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “You nearly imploded us, thinkin’ you were gonna bail on me, and you hold tight to anything you got, no matter that it’s not good for you.”

  “She’s my sister, Benny, and Dad’s havin’ a baby any day now. Enzo’s already had two. Enzo says she’s not answering his calls either. And Nat says she hasn’t heard from her in longer than I haven’t heard from her.”

  He felt his brows snap together. “You’re talkin’ to Nat?”

  Her head tipped to the side. “Not exactly. I’m keepin’ tabs on her through Enzo.”

  “Thought she was dead to you,” Ben noted.

  Frankie bit her lip for a moment before she said, “She’s dead to me, but she isn’t actually dead.”

  Jesus.

  Frankie.

  “Leave it at that,” he ordered.

  “I can’t,” she returned, her voice rising.

  He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up his chest so they were face-to-face.

  “I get it,” he said quietly. “You didn’t have a lot to hold on to growin’ up. It would stand to reason you not growin’ up with anything solid, that you’d hold on to anything you can get. But you gotta learn when to cut shit that is not healthy for you loose.”

  Her face softened and her tone lightened as she slid a hand up to curl it around his jaw and said, “Ben, I’m seein’ things clearer now, but I am who I am. And I need you to see that’s how I am. I also need you to see that how I am is okay now. It’s better. Because now I do have something solid, so when the unhealthy part comes, I can deal.”

  She dug her fingers in on her emphasized “do,” but Benny felt her words in his gut in a way he liked.

  So he let it go.

  Mostly.

  “So, let me guess, you’ve talked to Chrissy,” he noted.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “How many times?”

  Her eyes got squinty. “Twelve thousand seventy-three.”

  He fought a grin, gave her a squeeze, and repeated, “How many times?”

  Her eyes slid to the side before coming back to his. “Seven.”

  “She doin’ okay?” he asked.

  “Things are not great with Dad because she’s a little freaked he wasn’t there for me and she’s giving him another daughter, so it would stand to reason he won’t be there for my baby sister. But pregnancy-wise, she’s good.”

  “Holdin’ on to anything you can in a way that you even grab on to new shit that’s gonna do your head in.”

  She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Whatever.”

  When they rolled back, he held her gaze and made his point even clearer when he asked, “How’s Sal?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “He still in touch?” Ben pushed.

  She unpressed her lips to answer, “Actually, he phoned a while back, but it was the day Dad came calling, so I got lost in that and my newfound ability to give amazing blowjobs, so I forgot to mention it to you.”

  Ben felt his body shake under hers at her comment about blowjobs, but it didn’t deter him from their conversation.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “And, well…the last time I was up there, I called so I could chat with Gina, maybe set up lunch with her. Gina answered, but she answered from Tuscany. They were in Italy on vacation.”

  Ben did not like that.

  “You hidin’ that shit from me?”

  “No,” she returned immediately. “It was just that she wasn’t around for me to have lunch with, so since there was nothing to get into it with you about, I decided to avoid the hassle. If she’d have been around, I would have told you.”

  If he was her, he’d also take that play so he relaxed.

  “We’re eventually gonna have to have that conversation,” he noted.

  Her eyes again slid to the side as she murmured, “We’re eventually gonna have to have a lot of conversations.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  Her eyes took their time coming back and he didn’t think she was giving it all to him when she declared, “My birthday is in three weeks.”

  “Yeah, and you need to have your ass at my house when it comes.”

  Her eyes got big again and she asked, “Really?”

  “Meant to tell you, you gotta come u
p. Not me comin’ down. So do what you gotta do at work to make that happen.”

  Her gaze grew alert and her head tipped to the side. “Why?”

  “Benny and Frankie livin’ together in relative harmony, it comes to birthdays, Valentine’s day, anniversaries, and Christmas, you don’t ask questions.”

  Her body relaxed into his and a smile lit her eyes before she said softly, “I can do that.”

  “Benny and Frankie livin’ together in relative harmony, it comes to those days, we’re together. No work. No nothing. No excuses. You gotta travel for work, you plan trips around those days. And for that part, I’ll add Easter, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July.”

  Her lips curved up as she stated, “I’ve finally stumbled on a time when I don’t mind you bein’ bossy.”

  He grinned through his, “Shut up, Frankie.”

  She dropped her head to touch her mouth to his and pulled back, declaring on a complete lie, “I’m back to a time when I mind you bein’ bossy.”

  He grinned again and asked, “What we gonna watch?’

  “You pick,” she offered.

  “I pick, you can’t bitch.”

  Her brows shot up. “What’s the point of givin’ up my pick if I can’t bitch about yours?’

  Ben looked to the ceiling and sighed.

  “All right, I won’t bitch,” she gave in and he looked back to her. “You want popcorn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You queue up the movie, I’ll make the corn.”

  “Deal.”

  She smiled down at him, then dropped her head again but went low, touching her lips to his throat. Then she pushed up with her hands in the couch and angled off him.

  After watching her ass in her tight skirt moving to the kitchen, he turned his attention to the TV, thinking that that conversation didn’t go too great. She didn’t back down from keeping people who treated her like shit in her life and maneuvered him so he’d let her.

  At least he got her to agree to important holidays spent together.

  It was something.

  And with Frankie, he’d take it.

  Then again, with Frankie, he’d take anything.

  * * * * *

  “I hate this,” Frankie whispered into his chest.

  “Yeah, baby,” Benny whispered into the top of her hair.

  He felt her draw in a deep breath and let it go. After that, she tipped her head back to look at him.

  “You’ll call me when you get home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, Benny.”

  She lifted up in her heels and pressed her mouth to his.

  He slanted his head, took it, and took his time doing it. He memorized her taste, the smell of her, the feel of her in his arms. Only when he had it etched deep so it could keep him going for weeks of being away from her did he let her go.

  She gave him a squeeze, a smile she didn’t mean, and pulled out of his arms.

  She bent and got her computer bag from the sidewalk where she’d dropped it, and Ben stood in front of her house and watched her walk to her Z.

  She waved before she got in.

  She waved as she reversed out.

  And she waved as she drove away.

  Ben watched her, doing it the whole time smiling.

  And he watched until her car disappeared.

  He moved only to walk down the sidewalk to look around her unit, then he stood there, eyes on the straight Indiana street that led to corn country one way and right into the heart of a city the other.

  He did this no longer smiling.

  And he thought this shit had to end—Frankie leaving him or him leaving Frankie. He was done with it three months ago.

  But he knew it couldn’t end. She was good at what she did, she liked her job, and he loved her. He couldn’t fuck that for her.

  So he had to be patient and wait for her to get to the time when she felt she could come to him and end this long-distance thing.

  That didn’t mean he had to like it.

  And he didn’t.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Electric

  Ben slammed the door on his truck and moved to the trailer that was removed from the noise and activity of the construction site.

  He went up the two steps, pounded the side of his fist on the door twice, and heard a woman call, “Come in!”

  He went in and saw a narrow space that was surprisingly tidy. Plans tacked to walls. Filing cabinets. A drafting board. A desk with a computer and phone that was covered in papers with a very pretty, dark-haired woman behind it wearing a dark blue polo with McCandless Construction stitched in white over her heart.

  Her head lifted, her attractive face holding an expression that was not unwelcoming, but it was distracted.

  Until she caught sight of him.

  That was when Catarina Concetti Lugar declared, “We are not doin’ this.”

  Not a good start.

  Benny ignored that and walked further into the office, deciding to try to get them on track, even as he didn’t hold much hope he’d succeed, and he did this by greeting, “Hey, Cat.”

  She did not greet him back. She ordered, “Ben, I’m at work. Just go.”

  He shook his head and told her, “Your sister is worried about you. It’s her birthday tomorrow. She’s comin’ up tonight, I’ve been makin’ calls—calls you haven’t returned—so I thought I’d extend the invitation face-to-face. I’d like you and Art to come to the pizzeria for Frankie’s birthday party tomorrow night. More, it would make Frankie happy you were there.”

  “I ignored your calls because me and Art aren’t gettin’ anywhere near that pizzeria,” she retorted.

  And now it was getting worse.

  “You wanna explain that to me?” he invited.

  “Not really,” she refused.

  “Do it anyway,” he ordered, holding her eyes.

  She stared at him before she looked out the window, huffed out an annoyed breath, and gave him back her eyes. “My sister was shot,” she announced.

  “I know. I was the one who carried her through the forest after that shit happened.”

  “Yeah, I know. Frankie, up in the shit of another Bianchi,” she fired back.

  Ben felt his skin start to itch, pissed that another of the Concettis brought that shit up. At the same time, he was wondering how in the fuck they couldn’t get their heads out of their asses and see why their sister would want to be part of a good, decent, loving family. Even so, she wasn’t the kind of woman to go about getting that with how they thought she was doing it. They had to know her better than that.

  Then again, since they had their heads up their asses, and when they didn’t, they were all about themselves, he shouldn’t be surprised.

  When he got control and spoke, he had to force his mouth to move but, in doing that, not to yell.

  “I’m not feelin’ a lot of love for explainin’ anything to you, seein’ as your sister was in a hospital bed for a week and a half and you didn’t even call. Then she was recuperating at my house and you didn’t come ’round. But Francesca is worried about you. It’s her birthday. I want her to quit worryin’ and have what’s important to her on her special day. Not sure I agree with what’s important to her, seein’ as the majority of you Concettis treat her like shit, but it is so I’m here.”

  Her face started to get red, even as ice formed in her gaze as he spoke, and she didn’t hesitate to reply when he was done.

  “Concettis treat her like shit?” she asked. “How ’bout the Bianchis?”

  “You spoke to your sister, you’d know that’s done and we’re all movin’ on.”

  “Yeah, you’re here and word is she’s in your bed. I know how you’re movin’ on.”

  “Known me decades, Cat. Honest to God, do you think I’m gonna sink low enough to field that one?” Ben clipped.

  She glared at him, not like Nat, much like Frankie, except a lot less cute because he didn’t love her, and more, he’d never really l
iked her.

  “You know,” she started, “your big sister’s boyfriend gets whacked in a mob war, then she gets shot, then it’s all over everywhere that her dead boyfriend’s brother is up in her shit and then it’s everywhere they get hooked up, a girl’s gotta make a decision. She continues to get caught up in that ridiculous drama that ain’t real healthy, or she cuts herself off and tries to make a decent life. Me and Art talked about it a lot. He’s tight with his folks, his brothers. He didn’t get it. Why I wanted to cut ties. Until Frankie got shot and you were involved. Frankie involved with another Bianchi. Then he got it. Totally messed up. Totally unhealthy.”

  She flipped her hand in the air and didn’t shut up, she kept on yapping.

  “Art and me got marriage counseling so we’d quit fightin’ all the freakin’ time. Art and me found out in marriage counseling that it might be a good idea not to drink so freakin’ much. Art and me quit the booze, and now Art and me are in a good place so we’re tryin’ to make a baby. We got a good thing goin’, had it goin’ for a while. We don’t want anything to fuck that up. More, we bring a kid into this world, we don’t want that kid to be involved in fucked-up shit.”

  Benny couldn’t believe his ears.

  “You quit the booze?” he asked.

  “Yep. We’ve been dry now for nearly a year.”

  “Congratulations, Cat,” he murmured.

  “Yeah, hold a party for that,” she returned.

  “Cat—”

  She shook her head and lifted a hand to him, palm his way. “No. My sister got shot. Before that, her boyfriend was in the mob. Now, after years of watchin’ the Bianchis like she was on the verge of beggin’ you to adopt her, she went from one to the other to get her in.”

  “That’s not what she’s doin’,” Ben said, his voice tight.

  “No?” she asked, sarcasm easy to read. “She’s gorgeous. I know it. She’s sweet. She’s funny. I see why you want a piece of that. Totally. I love her to bits, my big sis. Only one who gave a shit about me my…entire…life. Until I met Art. But she’s messed up, Benny. Took me a while, but I finally woke my ass up and saw I needed to get out of the crazy that was my family draggin’ me down. I love her. I know the way you’re lookin’ at me you don’t believe that, but I love her. That doesn’t mean she’s any good for me. It was a hard decision to make, but I gotta look out for me. And you can take this as my good turn to you: you need to get outta that shit before she chews you up and spits you out like Ninette chews up every man who even looks at her.”