Frankie sighs, betraying his inner anxiety even beyond his jokes. “I don’t like that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Seriously, Bambs, I wish you’d reconsider and let me take you to the city to wait it out – have little Franquette in a hospital, where you’ll be safe.”“This child,” I say, putting d
Seven hours later, I’m all exhausted and sweaty, leaning up against the headboard of the bed and reaching for my little baby boy as the midwife wraps him up and leans down to place him in my arms.“Seven hours from start to finish,” she says, shaking her head at me and then up at Frankie, who stands
“Seriously, Frank,” I say, my voice insistent, not letting him make a joke to get out of it. “Are you…how are you feeling?”“I feel,” he says, smiling a little and raising his eyes to me. “Proud of my son, and desperately in love with you.” He lifts a hand then, cupping the back of my head as he lea
“Oh!” Leo says, breaking into a grin and rushing back to me, his rifle bouncing on his back. “Sorry!”“Don’t be sorry, babes,” I murmur, handing my son his water bottle and then snatching him close to me for another hug. “Just stay hydrated and make sure your dad has some too.”“Come on, Leo!” Frank
"I don’t like the idea of my girl stripping, Iris,” my boyfriend Steven says, glaring at me with his arms crossed. “It’s disgusting and impure. And I need my girl to be pure.” Steven is my college sweetheart – we’ve been dating for nine months, even though he’s graduated. He's very disciplined and
“Welcome to the stage…Bambi!” The DJ says, using my stage name. Dancing comes naturally to me – music has always made me feel at home in my body, and when the music is sexy? Well, then I feel sexy too. I whip my hair back at the crescendo of the music, my eyes moving directly to the man in the mon
I stare at the two men in shock, clutching the money to my chest. “What – what the hell are you talking about!?” “Your little boyfriend,” the smaller guy says, sneering and pushing Anthony away when he tries to get to my side. “He sold you to Don Bonetti as part of his debt.“ “What!?” I shout, j
I say a little prayer of thanks to Anthony as I bolt, clutching my money and throwing myself through the curtain at the back of the bar. Behind me I hear shouting and the sound of something that sounds like a fist on flesh – God, I hope Anthony is okay – But there’s no time to worry about him.