Page 21 of Her UnBearable Protector

Heaven help him, he wanted her more than his next breath, but not like this. Not when he was hiding the truth from her.

“Stop.”

He saw her brow furrow in confusion. Saw the pain that blossomed in her eyes. “I thought,” she shook herself and her hands grabbed at her blouse, tangling in the fine silk, “I thought you wanted to-”

“Natale,” he begged her with his tone to listen to him, but he could see the bare emotions on her face and knew he’d let things go too long. He’d gotten too close to giving in and he’d done more harm than good. “Please listen. I need to explain.”

“No, please,” she backed away from him, putting a patio chair between them, “not now. I don’t want to hear your excuse.”

He moved, using some of his preternatural speed to reach the door before her and he saw the shock on her face as clear as day in the darkness. The lights from inside her apartment only made her eyes shine with stark fear as she stared back at him.

Salvatore felt his heart seize at that realization. He could take anger from her. She could yell and scream at him and he would let it roll over him like the tide.

But fear and the pain of uncertainty in her eyes nearly killed him and robbed him of his desire. He knew he was a heartbeat away from ruining any chance he had with her. And if he destroyed what was left of her trust, he’d lose her in another way.

He’d never be able to protect her if she wouldn’t listen to him, if she pulled away from him when he needed to keep her safe.

Salvatore backed away from the door, retreating into the shadows of the unlit balcony. Natale only hesitated for a moment before she wrenched open the door and disappeared inside.

He didn’t move or breathe again until he heard her slam her bedroom door.

Chapter Seven

Everyone knew there was something wrong. She could tell by the looks they sent her way. Even Mrs. Castillo, who had worked for Durante for half her life and didn't let anything fluster her, sent worried looks her way. Natale wasn't going to stop and indulge in any of the pitying looks from her people. She'd already banned Ericka from saying a word.

It didn't help that Salvatore looked ready to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder and drag her off somewhere.

Well, that would have worked the night before when she'd all but begged for it. It had only been her stubborn pride that had kept her from actually uttering the words. She wanted him, but if he didn't want her, then she would be a big girl with big girl panties and walk away. This show was more important than anything else and she'd let herself get distracted. That was never going to happen again.

Every ounce of her energy was going to be focused on her show. She would get over the humiliation, and she'd secure the business for her family. And when she had everything back on track, she'd lick her wounds and maybe open herself up to trying again.

Maybe.

With someone else… anyone else.

“Natale?”

Tensing just the littlest bit, she turned to her oldest friend. Smile in place, Natale looked at the garment in her hands. “What's up?”

“Lavonne’s here for her fitting, you said you wanted to-”

“Yes!” Natale reached out and touched Ericka’s arm, giving it a little squeeze. “Thanks for remembering.” Taking the garment and draping it over her arm, Natale met the model in the center of the room. Seeing the anticipation on the other woman’s face, Natale felt the tension on her shoulders drop away. “Lavonne, just the woman I’ve been wanting to see all morning.” It was true, this dress had given her fits. The design was simple but that was the catch. The simpler designs were always the trickiest. Simple meant that every seam, every inch of hem would be scrutinized. Simple meant it had to be perfect or be ripped apart in reviews.

Together in the fitting room, they lifted the gown over Lavonne’s head, and with a few wiggles, the garment washed over her body, and settled around her generous curves.

Looking up into the mirror, Lavonne’s face softened for a moment. “Oh, Natale!”

Gently setting her arm around Lavonne’s shoulders, Natale took in the whole effect. “You look so lovely.”

Both women took in the easy fit of the garment as Lavonne shifted slightly before the mirror. Natale pulled the tab on the invisible zipper and drew the garment together in the back. She could see Lavonne tense before her. Natale didn’t blame her. Finding clothing for a woman with curves was an exercise in frustration and many times futility. The model before her was called ‘plus-size’ but her ‘rack size’ was one that a large portion of American women called their own. Rather than being singled out in fashion as ‘large’ or ‘not-commercial,’ Lavonne was very much a ‘model American woman.’

Natale knew what Lavonne had braced herself for. She was waiting for the pinch of the zipper. She was waiting for the zipper to become stuck because of her size. Neither issue happened and instead, the garment only accentuated her lush curves in a gentle embrace of fabric instead of stretching and pulling over her skin. “Just perfect.” Turning her head, she pressed a kiss on Lavonne’s cheek. “Let’s go and show the ladies.”

As the women emerged from the fitting room, Natale saw the spontaneous reactions of the women in the workroom and her spirits soared. These women together had more than a hundred years of sewing and patterning skills and they were worth their weight in diamonds. So, when the ladies gasped and clapped their hands at the sight of Lavonne in her dress, it was truly a winning moment for Natale.

A soft rush of sound turned her head and she regretted the decision. Salvatore had stood up from his chair, his eyes fixed on her. He didn’t have to say a word, she saw the entreaty in his eyes. He wanted to talk, something he made clear on the way to the workroom, and she thought she’d made her answer very clear at the workroom door.

Catching Ericka’s pointed look, Natale struggled to keep her good mood firmly in place. “Go ahead and take some Polaroids and have Mrs. Costello fit her for shoes and check her hem.”

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