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“True.”
“Do you remember Miami?”
“Of course.” How could she forget their weekend in Miami all those years ago. Sun, warm ocean water lapping up on white sand beaches, the place where her beautiful Portia was conceived. It was also where her father tried to have Nick killed over the mob’s never-ending battle for respect.
“Crazy times.” When they returned to New York it all fell apart.
His hand traveled down her back palming her ass pushing her until she was splayed over him. She smiled feeling his reaction to her naked body.
“I told you I wasn’t done with you yet.” He shifted his hips until he had her where he wanted her. “We got a lot of time to make up.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”
They took it slow this time, grinding against each other at a torturous pace, each taking and giving at the same time. When the pressure built again, she arched her back as he pumped her from below. Her body tensed, then released the sensation coursing through her until she was limp and boneless.
Nick hit into her a few more times, groaned out his pleasure, then held her tight to him. They laid quiet for a long time, until Nick shifted on the bed.
“I wanna ask you something, and I want the truth.”
“Of course.” She braced her palms against the cool sheets and waited.
“The last time I asked you this question you walked out on me.”
She motioned to her naked body. “No chance of that now.” She kept her voice light while her insides tangled into knots.
His face sobered. “How come you never told me Frank was your father?”
She slowly released her breath and concentrated on the best way to answer a convoluted question.
“Because I never knew when we were in New York. After I was in California for about a week, Frank showed up at my door. He said he needed to talk to me. When I got over the shock of seeing him, I let him in and he just blurted it out.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
Her brain stalled on another thought. Right around the same time I found out I was pregnant with your daughter.
“Did he have proof?”
“My mother always told me my father was a piece of shit cause he dropped out of her life, and I didn’t need to know him. I figured she didn’t know which of her many men was my father. Since I was a child she spun crazy drug-induced stories that didn’t make sense. When Frank came to see me in California he had all the documents with him and said they’d been checked and rechecked.” Cheryl forced a smile. “In the end, Frank Barnett is my father.”
“You must’ve been blown away.”
“Pretty much. Especially after everything that went down between me, you, and him.”
“Somehow I don’t think it was some sappy family reunion.”
“I was living in a beat to shit apartment in the ass end of Hollywood and he offered to set me up in a luxury condo. In his own roundabout way he wanted to make amends. He said hesent me to Cali to keep me away from his enemies and all the bullshit in Brooklyn—gave me the usual line about it not being personal, but all about business. Kinda like Tony Soprano trying to be a good dad and not even realizing how his twisted logic was screwed up.”
“Did you take what he offered?”
“I turned him down, but he persisted. Took a hotel suite at the Beverly Wilshire for a week. Tried to lure me in with everything money could buy, trying to make me the perfect mob daughter. Said he wanted to make up for lost time. The sad thing is, I think he really thought he was doing the right thing. I don’t believe he ever saw it as controlling or too much way too late. After a week of me refusing, he went back to New York.”
“I gotta give you credit, cause money is fuckin’ addicting.”
“I have to admit he seemed different somehow, like a small part of him really did care about my well-being.”
“Yeah, I thought that about him too once. He really can sell it when he wants to.”
“After everything he put us through in Brooklyn I just wanted to start over. I was sure his ego wouldn’t let him give up on me so I moved from that shitty apartment to another shittier apartment. I legally changed my name, dyed my hair, and made sure I never left a paper trail. The old days of conning kicked in, and Cheryl Benson disappeared forever.”
She led Nick to believe she shunned her father for personal reasons, but a week after Frank left California a pregnancy test confirmed she was pregnant with Portia. No way did she want a mob legacy tied to her or her newborn baby. She reasoned she would rather live in poverty than be funded by her gangster father.
