Chapter 15 Natalie
NATALIE
“What are you talking about?”
I’m forcing in every breath I take, trying to stay calm.
“Let’s go in,” Sergio says, his eyes dark on mine when he takes my arm and walks us up the stairs to the front door.
I glance over my shoulder at the tall iron gates in the distance.
“In, Natalie. Now.”
“Are we in danger?” I ask, Pepper loping beside us.
He doesn’t answer but greets the men when we get inside. “Natalie, you know Eric. This is Ricco.”
I glance at Ricco. He’s big, kind of brutish looking, and he nods at me in greeting. I shift my gaze back to Sergio.
He’s watching me, and I know he’s weighing his words. “Ricco’s going to keep an eye on you while you’re at school.”
I pull my arm free, step backward. Pepper’s fur brushes against the backs of my legs. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Another man will be stationed at your house.”
“What—”
“What that means is I intend to keep you safe.” He turns to the men. “Eric, there’s a bag of dog food in the trunk. I need you to get that. I’ll meet you in the study in a few minutes.”
“Wait,” I start, but the two simply do as they’re told and Sergio turns to me, and all of a sudden, he looks different. Bigger. Scarier.
“Nat.” He takes my arm again.
“I told you I don’t like being called that.” But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what he calls me right now.
“Come on,” he says, tipping his head to the side, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite make it. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink,” I snap, freeing my arm again. Or I try to, at least.
“Natalie.”
“What’s happening?” I hear how I sound, feel panic bubbling inside me, making goose bumps rise all along my body.
“Calm down. You’re safe.”
“Why would I not be safe?”
He studies me, wraps his arm around me, pulls me toward him. I plant my hands on his chest.
“Sergio, why—”
I stop because his fingers move up along my spine and his hand closes around the back of my neck. His eyes search my face. “You’re with me now. Things are different. You knew that.”
I glance away, shake my head. “I don’t—”
“A drink, Natalie. Even if you don’t want one, I need one.” Without waiting for a reply, he walks me into the kitchen. He spins a stool at the counter and gestures for me to sit. I do.
From a cabinet, he gets a bottle of whiskey and two tall glasses.
He brings them over to the counter and turns the stool beside mine toward me and sits.
I watch as he sets the bottle and glasses down, then pours about three fingers full into each glass.
He closes his hand around one, pushes the other toward me with the knuckles of the same hand.
His eyes never leave mine and when I raise my hand to the glass, it’s trembling. Sergio sees it too.
“The flowers,” I say, looking at the liquid, knowing it will burn when it goes down.
“Were they a sign?” I pick up the whiskey, bring it to my lips, force a swallow.
I hate this stuff but I take another sip because I need it right now.
When I look up at him, he’s still watching me.
“You said they’re funeral flowers.” I’m processing my own words as I say them.
But I’ve known this all along, haven’t I?
That knowing him, being with him, it puts me in danger.
He doesn’t answer for a long time, just watches me like he’s reading my thoughts, reading me.
Pepper lets out a bark from nearby and we both turn to her.
Sergio sets his glass down, gets up and opens a drawer, gets a bowl and fills it with water, sets it down in one corner and puts a second, empty one beside it.
“Why don’t you get her fed. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll cook us dinner then.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, swallowing the rest of the whiskey and setting my glass down before getting to my feet, walking over to where Pepper’s drinking the water.
I kneel beside her, my back to Sergio, and pet her.
She’s so old, her skin and fur feel oily.
I don’t want to think about how much longer she’ll be around.
Sergio sighs, but then he walks out of the kitchen and I assume he’s gone to his study to meet with those men when I hear a door close.
I take a deep breath when he’s gone, then get back up. Taking the bowl, I get Pepper’s dinner then walk back to the counter, take the bottle of whiskey he left behind and pour myself some more. I drink and make my way to the living room.
Tonight, I feel like I have some rights here. Some authority. Because I’m realizing something. Something I’ve been processing since I met him. Something I still don’t quite understand.
I haven’t yet made the connection with what mafia life truly means. Not in the terms of real life. Of my life.
My mind wanders to what might have happened if Sergio hadn’t changed the locks on my borrowed house. Would whoever left the lilies there have broken in? Would someone have been waiting for me inside when I got home? Waiting to do me harm?
No, that’s not it. I don’t think they meant to hurt me. I think they meant to send a message to Sergio.
I’m studying the photos in the living room when I hear the study door open. Sergio’s saying something in Italian. I didn’t realize he spoke Italian, but of course he does. A few minutes later, the two men leave, and Sergio walks into the living room. I turn to face him.
“It was a message for you, wasn’t it? I don’t matter. I’m just a vehicle to get to you, aren’t I?”
He walks toward me but I halt him.
“Answer me, Sergio.”
He considers for a moment, then answers. “Yes.”
“Who did it?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, I think it might matter.”
His eyes harden a little. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Like you did Professor Dayton?”
He takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly, and closes the space between us. I don’t step back, but I want to. He takes the glass out of my hand and sets it aside. “I said I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t you think I have a right to know?”
He shifts his attention to my hand, takes it in his. He turns it over and pushes the three-quarter sleeve of my dress to my elbow. He studies the skin of my wrist, traces a vein up the inside of my arm. His touch sends shivers along my spine.
“These are my enemies, Natalie. Not yours.”
“But if they’re at my house, leaving me funeral flowers, they’re my enemies too.”
“I said I’ll take care of it and I will.”
“How?” Why am I asking? How much of this do I want to know?
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll fix it.”
I shake my head, look down at his hand, at his fingertips light as a feather as they tickle my skin. He’s watching too. Holding my small wrist in his big hand. It makes me feel vulnerable. Makes me think how easily it could be snapped. By whose enemies hardly matters. It would break all the same.
It’s strange what I’m feeling for this man whom I’ve known for only weeks. Who is dangerous. Whom I know I should run from. But thing is, I can’t imagine walking away. Can’t imagine not having him in my life.
But I’m being stupid. I can’t disregard what happened tonight, even if he ‘fixes’ it. I pull my hand free of his. “What about the next time? I’m guessing you have more than one enemy.”
I reach for my whiskey, but he recaptures my wrist and takes my glass, swallows its’ contents.
“Is this normal for you, Sergio? Normal life? Nothing out of the ordinary in someone leaving funeral flowers at your doorstep?”
He rubs the scruff of his jaw, the back of his neck. He’s looking at me but he’s in his head. I see him struggling with something. Maybe it’s the same thing I’m battling.
It takes him a long time to speak. “I have many enemies. And I don’t want it to be your normal. I’m a dangerous man. It’s dangerous for you to be with me.”
“What are you saying?”
His eyes burn. There’s so much inside them, conflict and rage and an intense darkness. An almost palpable violence.
He finally turns away, then answers. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
I go to him, touch his shoulder. “You want me to leave? Walk away? Is that what you’re telling me?”
He faces me, gives me a small smile, exhales loudly as he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s too late for that, sweetheart. I won’t let you go. That’s been the problem from day one.”
“I don’t want some man following me. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he says. “Not on this one.”
“I do. I have to. This is my life. I get a say.”
“Not when it comes to your safety,” he says, his tone harder, his eyes darker. “Don’t be na?ve. You don’t know this life. This is non-negotiable.”
I try to pull free, but this time, he tugs me to him, making me bounce against his chest.
“Let me go.” I try to push him off.
“No.”
“You don’t listen to anything I say when it doesn’t suit you.”
He cocks his head to the side.
“You didn’t when you beat up my professor. Not when you changed the locks on my house without my permission, and now you’re not listening either.”
“Aren’t you glad that I did change those locks?”
I stare up at him, and before I can answer, he puts the flat of one hand in the middle of my chest and walks me backward until my back hits the wall.
“I’m a modern man, Natalie, but I have my limits, and when it comes to your safety, I decide.”
“And what, I do as I’m told?”
“That’s ideal.” He’s trying to make light of it.
I try to push his hands off but can’t. “Let me go.”
“No. I already told you, I’m not letting you go.”
“You don’t get to decide for me.”
“I won’t leave you unprotected.”
“I wouldn’t be in danger if it wasn’t for you being who you are.”
“Enough!” He slams his fist into the wall.
I let out a small scream, and freeze.
There’s an anger that’s barely controlled when he next speaks, his voice low, a warning. “You went into this with both eyes wide open. You know it and I know it.”
I shudder.
Is he right? I didn’t know it, though, not like this.
But isn’t that bullshit? And does it even matter? I won’t leave anyway. That, I know.