Page 34 of Her UnBearable Protector

Natale hugged her right back and leaned in to answer back with. “I got… a lot.”

Ericka pulled back slightly and nodded with approval. “One of the stitchers thought you’d twisted your ankle or something. I thought you were walking a little stiff, but I had my suspicions.” She sobered a bit and searched Natale’s eyes. “Last night, I was so worried!”

Natale felt a little of her good humor drain from her body as tears prickled on her lashes. As much as she’d been working on a high, memories of her stupidity flooded into her head, rocking her back and left her off balance. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you after.”

“Valerio called, and let me tell you,” she could tell that Ericka was forcing a smile into her tone, “that sexy growl of his is the only thing that saved you from me knocking on your door in the wee hours of the morning.”

Natale flushed. “You could knock all you want, but I wouldn't have answered.” She reached out and gently touched Ericka’s cheek with her fingertips. “But I need to thank you for coming back to the workroom. If you hadn't-”

“Hey now,” Ericka forced out a laugh. Natale knew her too well to think it was real. “No sobbing or teary moments, okay? I don't have waterproof eyeliner and being around models is hard enough on my psyche.” She let out a sigh. “I'm just glad I listened to my intuition and turned around.” Turning slightly, Ericka leaned against Natale’s desk beside her friend. “What was so important about that list from storage? You're not using them for the show and,” she cocked her head to the side, “you didn't even write the list. That squiggly-little handwriting was Caprice’s wasn't it?”

Natale could feel Ericka get worked up over the idea. She leaned her shoulder against her friend’s. “Look, I don't want to argue. I know the two of you don't really get along-”

“Get along?” Ericka scoffed at the idea. “We’re about as copacetic as Mrs. Weasley and Beatrix le Strange.”

Natale felt a silent chuckle shake her shoulders. “And who am I in this analogy?”

Ericka stared at her, wide-eyed. “Ginny, of course!” She sighed. “Your cousin isn't exactly cheering you on, sweetie. You need to let her get her own things if she needs them. You have a show to put on,” she looked down at the daily calendar on the desk, “and two more days to do it in. Caprice is a big girl, and your older cousin, let her sink or swim on her own. You know,” Ericka leaned closer and gave Natale a loud smooch on her cheek, “she wouldn't lift a finger to help you.”

Ericka pushed away from the desk and headed for the door.

Natale shook her head, silently agreeing with her friend. “Ericka?”

Stopping at the door, Ericka looked back over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“You know I'm not like Caprice.”

Ericka’s smile brightened back into its megawatt glory. “Thank goodness for that!” She opened the door with a solid yank and stopped short right there. “Mr. Durante?”

Natale felt a tremor of emotions roll through her as her father greeted Ericka, pressing a kiss on both of her cheeks before stepping aside to let her out of the office. When he entered her office, his eyes focused intently on her face.

She felt a lot like an amoeba on a microscope slide. Her father was a shrewd man whose eyes saw more than what was on the surface. She lifted her hand to her face, touching the warm skin of her cheek. She didn’t keep a mirror in the office, so she had no way of seeing if she was blushing.

“Natale?” She heard the worry in his voice and when he held out his hands toward her she put her hands in his.

“Papa,” the smile on her face was genuine, and she leaned into the kiss he pressed against her cheek, “I wasn’t expecting you to come to the workroom.”

He gave her a little nod. “I received a visit this morning. Valerio Orsino appeared at my door.”

“Oh?” She gently extracted her hands from his and folded them over her stomach, trying to still the sudden onslaught of butterflies in her middle. “What did he have to say?”

She watched her father compose himself, focusing his thoughts and energy into a single purpose. It was a skill that she had always admired, even coveted. Standing before her in his elegant gunmetal gray suit, her father’s silvering hair took on a lighter hue, and his face bore few marks of his age. The solemn look in his dark blue eyes made her feel loved and cared for even as she worried over his answer.

“You were hurt, Natale. He wanted to let me know, because he knew that someone should tell me.” His meaning in his soft rebuke was clear. She should have called him.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” She shook her head. “I’m just fine, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” They both heard the naked emotion in his voice. “You were in pain, and I could not comfort you? I could not hold your hand, or kiss your brow.”

Again, emotions assailed her, threatening to derail her newfound momentum. “I had Salvatore with me,” she paused, realizing that she’d said his first name, “and everything worked out.”

He reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, lifting her arm and drawing it into the light. With a practiced twist of his fingers, he opened the cuff of her blouse and peeled back her sleeve. The bandage was pristine white. Valerio had arrived before breakfast, before dawn found its way into the city, and cleaned and dressed her wound. The sight of Salvatore hovering over his brother’s shoulder as Valerio poked and prodded her injury had been enough to distract her from the painful twinges of sensation.

“Do you want to explain how this happened?” She heard the worry and reproach in his voice.

She shook her head, but her gaze remained on her father. “No, Papa.” A knock sounded on the door, a short series of raps that was a cue from Ericka. “I have to get going. Lunch waits for no woman and we have a full afternoon packing for the venue ahead of us.”

Stepping up beside her father, Natale tugged her sleeve down to her wrist and brushed a kiss against her father’s cheek. “You’ll see, Papa. You don’t have to worry about the show. We’ll be ready.”

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