by Reina Torres
“Okay,” she said to no one in particular, “I guess I’ll go get those things for you. Thanks for asking.” She sat on the edge of her desk looking at the paper that Caprice had pushed into her hand. She’d had her issues with her cousin. Caprice had done horrible things to her, said horrible things, but she was dedicated to Durante. If you would cut either of them, they’d likely bleed fabric dye and pull thread from their veins.
If Caprice said she needed help and it was for the business, then she needed help.
Looking up at the office door, she knew that if she went outside Salvatore would insist that she remain in the workroom, or he’d go with her. The first option wasn’t an option. She needed to take care of this tonight.
Her thoughts strayed to the stairwell that Caprice had used. Stairs weren't her thing. After hours on her feet, the last thing she wanted to do was make her way down countless stairs.
The clock on the wall ticked away, sounding just like Caprice’s heels on the hard floor. Part of her said she should just tell him what she needed to do and make him come along.
The larger part of her remembered the humiliation from the night before. It wasn’t really his fault, she knew that. Sure, he’d said some pretty things to her about how they were meant to be together, and she’d wanted to believe. Maybe he meant it, but maybe she’d taken his flirtation for serious interest. That was on her.
Shaking her head, she looked at the list in her hands one last time.
If she cut across Central Park, following her usual path through the Rambles, cutting a few corners and turn arounds, she’d be able to get there and back before Salvatore came looking for her. He probably thought she was still in her office. Good. Let him.
Grabbing up her purse and her keys, Natale moved to the door and quietly opened it. Leaning her ear toward the entrance, she froze when she heard the ring of a phone. Flattening her purse against her belly, she held her breath and almost ruined it by laughing when she realized that the ring came from down the hall, and she’d already turned her phone off when Caprice had come into her office.
Salvatore answered with his usual Italian greeting, and she had to admit the rumbling sound of his voice rolled right through her and made all the wrong parts of her body tingle. Most of what she heard was muffled. He was a fair distance away and she hadn’t spent much time eavesdropping on people, so she could only catch pieces of what he was saying.
“…nothing new?” A break, long enough for an answer on the other end. “That doesn’t make sense.”
She clamped her lips down, silencing herself.
“So, nothing’s happening.” His voice was strung tight, but she wondered if it was all just disappointment, that he didn’t have to be a hero.
Natale’s shoulders sagged in relief. Nothing. No news. No letters. No danger. Almost giddy with the realization that she was staring at freedom, Natale closed her door, slowly turning the handle to keep the locking mechanism silent, and headed for the stairwell. She didn’t have to worry much about making noise because she was in her comfortable flats. When she reached the door, she saw how Caprice had managed to breeze in and out without an issue. Someone had stuffed a paper in the lock, making it impossible for the bolt to click into place. “Brilliant.” She’d leave it blocked and use it to slip back in when she was done.
Pushing the door open, she eased out into the stairwell, holding the door open with her back, half expecting Salvatore to show up and pull her back into the workroom. She heard him shout and froze in place, her hand losing hold of the paper in her hand as she grabbed for her purse. When several breaths went by with no one appearing, she eased out into the stairwell and closed the door behind her. Trying not to think of the sheer number of stairs between her and the ground floor, she began her descent.
Salvatore felt his back teeth grind together and held tightly to his phone so it didn’t shake loose from his hands. “I don’t like this.”
He could hear his brother pacing on the other end of the call. “None of us do. They don’t escalate and then drop off the face of the earth.”
“Have Valerio head to her apartment and you come here. You’ll drive my car and I’ll stay with her in the back.” Fangs slid free in his mouth, grazing the inside of his upper lip. The blood was hot in his mouth and he felt his bear rise. “There’s something wrong.”
A heavy breath sounded through the speaker on his phone. “What’s wrong is you.”
Uberto didn’t challenge him often. When he did, they both ended up bloody and shaking from exhaustion, waiting for their wounds to heal. Even when the challenge was on the phone, Salvatore felt his bear rear up on his hind legs and glare. “What?”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
Salvatore was searching for the sound of contrition in his brother’s voice.
He didn’t find any.
“You’re not safe because you’re on the phone, ‘Berto.”
A subtle growl reached his ears. “I’d say it to your face, brother. You need to hear the truth in my words. You’re wound too tight. You’re too focused on her.”
“She’s my responsibility!”
“She’s your mate, ‘Tore.” Uberto’s tone held more humor than was safe, even as his brother. “You’re thinking with everything but your brain right now.”
“I would never let anything happen to her!” He turned his head, half expecting Natale to come out and glare at him, but the hallway remained silent. “That’s why I’m focused on her.”
“Yes,” he heard the soft, soothing tones in his brother’s voice, “but you’ve never been in love with a client before. You’ve never been so out of your head that you’re tied up in knots. What has you so on edge today?”
The truth hit Salvatore hard in the ribs. “What makes you say that?”
Uberto’s sigh was a familiar one, Salvatore had heard it over and over throughout the years. “When you picked up the phone you bit my head off. That’s how I know. Something happened and you’re not happy.”
There was no way that he was going to tell his brother that he’d had the chance to hold her in his arms and turned her down. He’d seen the hurt in Natale’s eyes, heard it in her voice and when he’d listened at her bedroom door, he heard the way she’d tossed and turned in bed.
He’d wanted her more than his next breath, but while he would have gladly rolled her beneath his body and tasted every inch of her skin a hundred times over, she deserved to know the truth. She needed to know who he was inside and out before she allowed him to claim her. It had to be her choice, but with her eyes open.
The elevator opened up and Salvatore got to his feet.
He saw Ericka through the glass panel. A moment later she swung the door open, her keys dangling from the lock.
Pulling the phone away from his ear he met her worried gaze with his own, instantly on alert. “Ericka?”
“Where’s Natale?”
He ended his call knowing that his brother heard what had been said. Dropping it into his pocket he looked down the hall. “In her office.”
Ericka’s gaze looked heavenward and she almost collapsed in relief. “Thank goodness.”
“What’s wrong?” He didn’t like the fear that was riding her when she’d arrived.
She let out a little giggle. “Don’t mind me, I get a little ‘odd’ sometimes.” Waving away his concern, she rolled her eyes. “I get these feelings. Natale calls it the voices in my head.”
His gaze narrowed on her face, concerned.
“Oh hey, relax!” She gave him a swat on the arm and then recoiled liked she’d hit a brick wall. “Ouch, you’re hard as rock!” She giggled. “But I’m sure I’ll get all the details when I talk to Natale. She’s going to think I’m crazy for coming back here, but I just had this odd feeling.” She shuddered. “I felt like Natale was in trouble.”
Some didn’t believe in feelings or intuition, but when you were a man who could become a bear at will, superstition didn’t seem like such a st
retch. When Ericka’s words settled in his thoughts, he felt a sudden and abject fear gnaw through his middle.
Turning his head, he bellowed down the hallway, “Natale?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, he started in that direction. He knew before he opened the door to her office that she wasn’t there. Once he opened the door he stopped short, his heart pumping blood wildly through his veins.
His bear paced wildly, pushing hard against his ribs with the strong force of his compulsion. Go. Move. Now. Find. Protect.
He heard Ericka’s shoes on the hard floor a moment before she grabbed a hold of his suit, rocking him forward. “There,” she was looking at the hallway floor. She bent down and snatched up the paper. As she read aloud, he didn’t understand the words, he just waited impatiently for her to explain.
“Tell me.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense, we’re not using any of these for the show.”
Salvatore reached for the paper and she pushed his hand away. “It’s a list of things that we have stored in our warehouse.”
“I didn’t know you had storage in this building.” He felt a rush of relief ease the strain across his shoulders.
“It’s across the park.”
His gaze found the door tucked into the alcove. Crossing to it, he pushed it open and stared at the old stairwell. Frustration rose up in his middle until he was nearly choking on it. “Address.”
If Ericka was angry that he had made a demand, she didn’t show it, rattling off the information with fear in her eyes.
Nodding, he started down the stairs. He heard Ericka calling after him, following after him, but she fell behind him in a matter of seconds.
He couldn’t worry about her, not now. He had to get to Natale.
Chapter Eight
When Natale focused on her work, when she got on a roll with her patterning or sewing, it would take a lot to distract her from her work. Design school and apprenticing under her father had been a natural fit for her. She loved to work with fabric, loved to feel the textures under her hand and let the fabric speak to her as she worked with it. You didn’t truly understand its special language until you worked with it, draped it, manipulated it a hundred ways. Designing, for her, wasn’t a social event. It was a solitary exercise in focus and dedication.
But even someone as dedicated as she was to the Durante Design House, she needed some time to herself, and the pathways through the park were a favorite escape for her. With all her recent frustrations, including her ridiculous behavior the night before, she knew that part of the reason she'd decided to help Caprice was that she could use the walk to focus on what was really important, the Bellezza show.
She stopped as she turned around a curve, taking a chance to look back over her shoulder. The path wasn't right. Or rather, she'd taken an odd turn somewhere. Tilting her chin up she tried to see over the tops of the trees to get a hint from the skyline.
The trees blocked out the sky, barely giving her a glimpse of the darkening sky, but no buildings or other landmarks were visible.
Natale turned around again and wondered if she should go back the way she came or continue on. There were a number of intersecting paths, but she didn't know them all, just the few that were part of her habit.
Regret filled her thoughts as she fished in her purse for her phone. She would never admit it aloud and definitely not to anyone else, but her first thought was to call Salvatore.
Opening the phone app she brought up the contact list and hesitated. Ericka? Her father? Salvatore? Shaking her head, she decided to call Salvatore. He’d likely use this as some excuse to lock her in her office, but at this point, she wasn’t going to argue. She felt more ridiculous by the second. Holding tight to the phone in her hands she reached for the call button.
A flash of silver ended in the bright flare of pain on her arm. No, in her arm. She stared down at the long narrow cut from her elbow to the middle of her forearm. Her sleeve gaped open as blood began to well up from the cut. Something clattered to the concrete path.
Natale felt her stomach flip over. I must be losing my ever-loving mind.
“Don’t move! Damnit!” The man standing before her seemed to materialize from the shadows in the park. It was twilight, and in this secluded area, somewhere between the jogging paths and the scenic lovers’ strolls, she was on one of those back pathways that park employees and delivery people take, and none of them would be around at this hour.
But staring at the man dressed head to toe in black, a hat pulled down low over his face, she knew this wasn’t a chance meeting. And when he pulled his hand from the pocket of his hoodie, she knew she was going to regret leaving Salvatore behind.
Of all the times to mistake independence for plain old stupidity.
The knife had been one thing, but the gun in his hand was quite another. It didn’t help her that his hand was shaking. She couldn’t see much past the barrel of the gun. She felt her mouth moving, felt a scratch in her throat, she was saying something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what it was. The blood rushing through her ears drowned everything else out.
She had always been a religious person. Her family went to church regularly, observed all the holidays. But, in the moment when she realized that this just might be the last few moments of her life, there was only one name Natale called out to for help.
“Salvatore-”
And there he was. At the edge of her vision, she saw him running toward her.
She didn’t know what to expect after that. Rather, she didn’t know what to expect at all. She’d left Salvatore behind to prove to herself that she didn’t need an over-bearing, over-obnoxious protector. And well, that had been a complete failure.
Natale didn’t have time to worry how he’d found her, she was only grateful that he had.
She wasn’t the only one who saw Salvatore. The man holding the gun looked torn between running away and pulling the trigger. Natale flinched, raising her arms up in a ridiculous attempt to ward off the bullet just as she heard a shout that echoed off the stone walls of the pathway.
She was sure that she was going to be dead before Salvatore could get close enough to help, but he was drawing closer as if every one of her seconds was half a dozen for him. As time moved by in a crawl, Natale had a moment of clarity.
If she lived through this crazy moment… If she managed not to die in the middle of Central Park, she was going to kiss Salvatore Orsino until one of them was weak in the knees and begging. Okay, she was sure it was going to be her that was doing both.
But a man with a gun was standing between her and the opportunity to make a huge fool out of herself, so there was that little silver lining.
She saw the moment he got up the courage to kill her, saw the tightening of the skin around his eyes and quick indrawn breath that filled his lungs. People said that designers would cut you, but this was a completely different situation. Designers wanted to cut into your sales, this man wanted her bleeding on the pavement.
Natale didn’t want to see it coming, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much that way, but she couldn’t seem to look away from Salvatore.
His eyes looked like black glass, staring right through her. And the arm that reached out wasn’t the tanned perfection she’d been treated to in her apartment, it seemed thicker, rougher, as if the skin had an added layer of muscle.
“Watch out!” The words blurted from her lips and the man hesitated, choosing that moment to stand his ground.
He didn’t know that the warning was for him.
And a moment later it didn’t matter.
Salvatore was on him.
No, not just on him. Salvatore’s arm was through him in a sickening rip of flesh and snap of bone. And the gun fell from twitching fingers as claws curled through the ruined flesh of his chest.
A moment later the claw was gone, receding through his ruined body. The man who had attacked her, slumped down to the path in a heavy slide of sound.
She wanted to scream.
She was sure she’d gone stark raving mad, but as she watched Salvatore pick up the man’s lifeless body and toss it into the bushes beside the path, all she could do was stare and try to force her brain to function. To force enough air into her lungs to speak. “How?” she wondered. “How did you-” and there were a thousand ways she wanted to end the question, but she couldn’t seem to form a complete thought.
Salvatore had his phone out and in his hand, yes, thank goodness it was a hand, and he was speaking in rapid fire Italian. A feeling rolled through her body that was hot and cold at the same time, as if it couldn't decide whether she should throw up or faint dead away. She wasn't sure which one would be less embarrassing, but then her mind focused on something else entirely. No, someone else.
Where Salvatore was standing, the castoff of light from the aging streetlamp seemed to gild his silhouette with a pale scrape of gold.
She was stuck there, unable to move and yet if she could have, she wanted to throw herself at him, all six-foot-four, built-like-a-bear and- wait.
Her gaze flickered up, focused on his face, a second before he turned and looked straight at her.
Natale wondered if he could hear her heart thundering in her chest, or the shallow pants of breath escaping past her parted lips.
She wanted him. That thought was clear enough to her addled brain. She didn't want to just kiss him senseless, although she was damn sure that it was all from the rush of adrenaline, she wanted to wrap her arms around him as far as she could reach. She wanted him naked and sweating in her bed.
She wanted him over her, under her, in her. Now.
She had never felt like that about anyone. She’d learned a long time ago to turn that part of herself ‘off.’ It never seemed to work out, or rather, men never seemed to take a relationship with her seriously, especially not sex.