“Natalie.” He squeezes my arms, dips his head low, eyes bore into mine from behind thick lashes. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to go. Now.”

I blink, but as much as I want to run right away from here, I’m unable to move. I’m on the verge of tears, and I don’t want to cry in front of him. But I don’t move. I can’t. Not until the study door opens behind me. Not until Salvatore has looked away, freeing me from the trap of his gaze. And the instant he releases me, I slip away, as fast as I can, back the way I came, my heels clicking as I go, as I miraculously don’t trip and fall, and stumble back into Sergio’s bedroom, like I was told.

Because I don’t want to see Sergio. I don’t want to see his father. I don’t want them to know I’ve heard. To know I know. Because if I had any doubt, any delusions about anything related to the Benedetti mafia family, Franco Benedetti’s brutal words obliterated them.

They showed me exactly the life I’ll be walking into by being with Sergio.

19

Sergio

“I think I should go home,” Natalie says to me when I get up to my room. She’s dressed and throwing things into her bag.

And I know she was standing just outside the study. I know what she overheard.

“I don’t feel great,” she adds on.

I don’t bring up the fact that I saw her run up the stairs. Don’t mention that the look I exchanged with Salvatore pretty much confirmed my thinking. I could kill my father. We’ve discussed this a thousand times. He knows where I stand. I’m not changing my mind. He knows me well enough to know he can’t make me.

“I’m sorry,” Natalie is saying when I tune back in.

She’s not sick. She looks fine. A little paler than usual, but that’s not flu. That’s what she overheard.

“I’ll take you home,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No. You should stay with your mom. I can take a train.”

“You’re not taking a train. I’ll take you home.”

She stops, her back stiffening as she sucks in a deep breath, zips her bag and picks it up off the bed before facing me square on.

“Sergio, you need to stay here with your mom. I think you’re right. I don’t think you can take time with her for granted right now.”

She’s choosing her words carefully. Neither of us want to say out loud what we know she means.

“I’ll be fine, and besides,” she clears her throat, doesn’t quite meet my gaze when she says the next part: “I don’t want to get her sick.”