That’s the first lie Natalie has told me. She isn’t sick—at least not with the flu. I study her, and she can’t meet my eyes. I nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She’s surprised by my response.

“With conditions.”

She exhales, waits, looks like she’s on the verge of tears all of a sudden.

I go to her. “Are you all right? Really?”

She nods, but her eyes glisten.

I wrap my hands around her arms and rub them before pulling her into my chest. She sniffles, and I don’t say anything when I feel the warmth of tears seep through my shirt.

“Remember what I said last night?” I ask.

She nods, keeps her forehead pressed to my chest. I weave my fingers gently into her hair, cup the back of her head, hold her.

“Mine. No matter what.”

I hear her suck in a deep breath. Feel her shudder with it.

She pulls away, wipes the back of her hand across her eyes, her nose. She doesn’t comment on what I’ve just said. “Conditions,” she says instead with an attempt at a smile. “I would be surprised if you didn’t have any.”

“You know me well. One of our drivers will take you to my house.”

She shakes her head. “I want to go home. To my house. It’s easier with school work and all my things, and Pepper’s more comfortable.”

“That last part is bullshit but fine, your house with a guard. Ricco.”

“Not in the house.”

“I wasn’t going to station him inside, but he will do a sweep.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll drive back early. Come to your place—”

“Sergio,” she cuts me off. I know what she’s going to say. I see it in her eyes. “I need time.”

I don’t speak.

“I,” she pauses, rubs her face. “I need to think.”

“I know you overheard.”

She looks down at her feet.

“Natalie, what you—”

“Please don’t.”

She turns away, puts on her coat. I bite my lip, forcing myself to remain silent as I watch her. When she’s ready, I take her downstairs where I arrange for one of my father’s men to drive her home and walk her outside. She turns to me, wraps her arms tight around me, tighter than I expect. For a long moment, she’s clinging to me.

“I love you, you know. I do,” she whispers.

There’s a sadness in her words, a sort of finality. But when I draw back, she pulls away and slips into the backseat of the sedan. I close the door, tap on the front window and watch the car drive away, down the driveway and out the gates, disappearing from view.

20

Natalie