“They are. Were.” I shake my head. “I’m not taking the internship. The professor’s weird anyway. He has a bunch of us volunteering at his firm and he’ll choose one for the summer spot.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He’s quiet but I know he wants to push. “Sergio?” I ask. I have a more pressing question.

“Yes?”

“Am I in danger?”

“What? No. No, nothing like that. Those are just shitty locks. Let me do this one thing for you.”

“They’re old, that’s all.”

“Right. We’ll update them. A gift to the owners.”

“Okay. But next time you talk to me first.”

“I did. I told you they were shitty.”

“I didn’t think that meant you were going to replace them.” I look at the clock. “Shit. I’m going to be late for classes.”

“Eric will take care of everything. Go to school.”

“Um, okay, thanks, I guess.”

“Tell me about this professor.”

“No. It’s nothing.” I’m worried suddenly. Sergio’s not taking baby steps into my life. He’s charging in and I have a feeling he’ll shove anything he needs to shove out of his way without a second thought. “I have to go,” I say.

9

Sergio

It took all I had to walk away last night.

What I wanted, what I would have done with any other woman, was strip her bare, bend her over the kitchen counter, and fuck her raw. Take her to bed. Fuck her again. Then again.

And then I would walk away. Out the door never to return. Never to give a second thought.

With her though, it’s different. With her, everything is different.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

Twice she’s been put in my path.

I finish my coffee. Head out to the car. Sending Eric to take care of the locks means I won’t have a bodyguard this morning. My father will have words with me when he finds out, which he always does. I need a bodyguard. We have enemies. All things I know.

Which brings me to Natalie.

If I’m not careful, she will become a target. And I feel very protective of her.

Those locks needed to be changed. They wouldn’t keep anyone out and that dog’s too old to protect her.

This professor she mentioned, I don’t like the sound of him.

My phone rings when I get in the car. I check the display. It’s my father.

“It’s early for you, isn’t it?”

“Heard the Vitelli boy is in the hospital.”

“That’s right.” I glance at the bruise on my knuckle. I don’t mind doing the physical work myself. Never want to be one of those men who’s afraid to get his hands dirty.

“He’ll be lucky if he can talk again,” he says.

“My initial meeting didn’t make the impression I hoped.”