Sergio (Benedetti Brothers 3)

“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.20NatalieThe drive back home is long and I’m grateful to be alone. I’m thinking. Counting. Over and over again, I count days. And like an echo, Sergio’s father’s words keep repeating in the backdrop. I’m not paying attention to the scenery, the other cars on the highway. The man driving is stone-faced and the few times I catch his eyes in the rear-view mirror, I see a hardness inside them, and I know he’s more than a driver.

“Accident up ahead. We’ll have to take a different exit.”

They’re the only words he speaks to me. I’m startled by the intrusion and confused for a moment. But as the car slows and veers off toward an exit, I nod.

“That’s fine. Thanks.”

The sky is strange. Heavy clouds drop rain then briefly allow the sun to shine through spectacularly only to turn over another bucketful moments later. I turn on my cell phone—I’d kept it off on purpose—but Sergio hasn’t called. I scroll to Drew’s number, almost hit the button to call him, but change my mind and switch it off again. Tuck it back into my purse.

First thing I need to do is pick up a test. Confirm one way or another because maybe I’m not pregnant. Maybe I’m just late. Why am I letting Dominic’s strange poke at my belly upset me so much? How would he know before me? He’s just a jerk, like Sergio said.

“I don’t give a fuck if you have that whore lick your floors clean day in and day fucking out. You do what you need to do with Natalie, but this is my final word.”

Shit.

The way Franco Benedetti talks about Lucia DeMarco, the way he talks about me, what does he think? What does he envision for his son? That he’d be with me and have her too? In what capacity? And how firm is his word? Is Sergio bound by it?

We slow to a stop at a red light. There are no other cars around and the traffic light is useless. I don’t know this part of the city at all. It’s run down. Somewhere I wouldn’t want to be alone at night or in the day.

There’s a gas station on the corner. I glance into the main building. A man is standing behind the register, his attention on whatever is flashing on the little TV on the counter. A row of houses stands vacant across the street, graffiti on its walls, boards on its windows and doors. Black marks the upstairs walls and part of the roof is missing. Must have been a fire.