Page 15 of Her UnBearable Protector

That someone had taken the picture without her knowing was enough to shake her, but what they had done to the photo made her knees weak. It had been cut into what looked like a couple dozen pieces and crudely taped back together. Over the layers of tape someone had worn down a red ink pen painting her with red, slashes all over her body, but the most red was focused across her neck.

There was no mistaking the message they were sending.

Natale swallowed around the knot in her throat and gasped, her hand lifting to touch her throat, needing to find it whole under her fingertips. Her skin was cold and she trembled enough that her breath rattled from her lungs.

“Natale?”

She heard Salvatore’s voice and saw him begin to stand, the blanket he’d tied around his waist lowered to pool around his hips, but her focus was on remaining upright. Holding up a hand she begged them. “Stay. Please.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head and pleaded with her stomach to stop churning. “I need to get ready to go to work. I would,” she drew in a breath and slowly let it go, “appreciate it, if you would put those things away. I don’t ever want to see them again.”

Natale left the room a moment later. If they answered her, she didn’t hear it. Even if they had, she wouldn’t have heard it through the blood rushing in her ears.

She managed to make it to her shower before she let the tears fall and her shoulders shake with gasping sobs. She’d laughed off her father’s worries, but now she understood exactly what he feared. This wasn’t just a matter of people not respecting her work.

Someone really wanted her dead.

Chapter Five

Salvatore sat beside the door, willing his hands to remain still. The early morning appearance of his brother should have given Natale a sense of calm, but he’d ruined it. Angered by the contents of the box, he’d called his brother back to look through the contents. He’d been so focused on the job at hand, he hadn’t considered that Natale would come to see what he was doing.

He was wrong.

And she hadn’t given him the chance to apologize or explain. Once she’d dressed, she’d gone straight for the door, her bag and keys in hand. Salvatore had already dressed and asked his brother to bring his clothes to the workroom after installing the security system to her apartment.

She’d remained quiet in the car, silent in the elevator, and by the time the doors opened up to the floor where the Durante Fashion House made its home, he wasn’t at all sure she was still breathing.

“Girl, you look tired!” Ericka stepped onto the elevator with a cup of coffee that she shoved into Natale’s hand. She took Natale’s other hand and dragged her into the hallway. “You better have some good stories to tell me,” he could hear the playful admonishment in her voice, “but first, come and see the girls in the outerwear pieces. You, my friend, are so damn good at what you do.”

He watched Ericka take Natale to a back corner of the room. A quick sip of coffee and Natale managed a smile on her face. Narrowing his gaze at her, he saw that the smile wasn’t quite real. She placed it there as she moved from one model to the next. One woman was willowy tall, the woman beside her was extremely petite and the woman standing behind the table had curves like Natale. All three were wearing coats and ensembles that were suited to blustery weather, and all of them had genuine smiles on their faces.

His hearing was excellent and it didn’t take much effort to hear the women as they spoke to Natale. They were all thrilled, not only to be cast to walk in her show, but that the clothing was incredibly comfortable and still made them look fabulous.

Salvatore’s bear rolled within him like he was enjoying a sunlit field as he leaned forward on his chair. Natale wasn’t just beautiful to him, he was proud of her talent. The people around her didn’t simper, bowing to her because of her position, they appreciated her talent and followed because she led. He didn’t need his sharpened senses to seek out the strength in her, anyone with eyes could see how amazing she was.

The elevator door opened and Salvatore sat up at the odd sound of a hard, clipped staccato on the clean laminate flooring.

He got up when he heard someone tug on the outer door of the workroom. As fast as he was, he wasn't in time to stop the pounding on the glass window in the door.

“Someone open this damn door!”

Natale walked past him, setting her hand on his arm to ease his worry. “That's just Caprice.”

He heard the strain in her voice and instead of moving back to his post he followed Natale, moving along the wall just out of view. Caprice, he remembered, was Natale’s cousin. The daughter of Giovanni’s younger brother.

An angry cousin at the moment. Her face was a vibrant orange mask of outrage. Holding a set of keys aloft in her hand, she pounded the keys against the glass. “Open the door, Natale! This isn't funny!”

Blowing out a fortifying breath, Natale opened the door and was nearly knocked back when Caprice stormed through the entryway. Her strides were long, and the way she moved made it look like there was a fan whipping her hair back from her face. The exaggerated movements of her legs mimicked what he’d seen of the models who had come into the workroom, but the way she surveyed the room wasn’t one of wonder. He could see that in the rigid lines of her back. He stayed at Natale’s side trying to read her feelings, but all he felt from her was tension and loving indulgence.

“Well?” The voice that tore through the silence was imperious in nature and as pointed as her stiletto heels. “I'm waiting for someone to explain.”

No one moved in the room, and Salvatore didn’t need his sensitive hearing to know that they were holding their breath. The only one who managed an expression other than pensive fear was Ericka. One sculpted brow raised up as she started forward.

Salvatore felt Natale tense beside him and then move forward into the room. He saw her smile, but knew it wasn't genuine. He heard a bright tone in her voice, but knew it was a fake. “I’m not sure what you want me to explain, Caprice.”

“What were you thinking?” Caprice turned back around to confront Natale, the sudden movement made the two inches of bangles on her wrist slide and clash against each other. “Changing the locks this close to a show, are you out of your mind?”

“Father was concerned about safety. He messengered out the new keys.”

That's when Ericka joined in, her eyes scouring her clipboard. “You received your keys last week.”

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