Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Sergio,” she finally says once we pull through the gates of my house. “Is there something about the flowers that I should know?”
I park the car, kill the engine. I climb out and the front door of the house opens as Natalie steps out of the car.
She looks at Eric and the man standing beside him, then at me.
“What’s going on?”
I meet her worried gaze, shift my attention to opening the back door, lifting Pepper out and setting her on the ground. The dog’s too old to hop out of the car on her own. “Let’s get her settled.” I take a step toward the house but she puts a hand on my arm.
“Sergio?”
I take a deep breath in, turn to her. “I don’t think the flowers were left by accident.”
15
Natalie
“What are you talking about?”
I’m forcing in every breath I take, trying to stay calm.
“Let’s go in,” Sergio says, his eyes dark on mine when he takes my arm and walks us up the stairs to the front door.
I glance over my shoulder at the tall iron gates in the distance.
“In, Natalie. Now.”
“Are we in danger?” I ask, Pepper loping beside us.
He doesn’t answer but greets the men when we get inside. “Natalie, you know Eric. This is Ricco.”
I glance at Ricco. He’s big, kind of brutish looking, and he nods at me in greeting. I shift my gaze back to Sergio.
He’s watching me, and I know he’s weighing his words. “Ricco’s going to keep an eye on you while you’re at school.”
I pull my arm free, step backward. Pepper’s fur brushes against the backs of my legs. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Another man will be stationed at your house.”
“What—”
“What that means is I intend to keep you safe.” He turns to the men. “Eric, there’s a bag of dog food in the trunk. I need you to get that. I’ll meet you in the study in a few minutes.”
“Wait,” I start, but the two simply do as they’re told and Sergio turns to me, and all of a sudden, he looks different. Bigger. Scarier.
“Nat.” He takes my arm again.
“I told you I don’t like being called that.” But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what he calls me right now.
“Come on,” he says, tipping his head to the side, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite make it. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink,” I snap, freeing my arm again. Or I try to, at least.
“Natalie.”
“What’s happening?” I hear how I sound, feel panic bubbling inside me, making goose bumps rise all along my body.
“Calm down. You’re safe.”
“Why would I not be safe?”
He studies me, wraps his arm around me, pulls me toward him. I plant my hands on his chest.
“Sergio, why—”
I stop because his fingers move up along my spine and his hand closes around the back of my neck. His eyes search my face. “You’re with me now. Things are different. You knew that.”
I glance away, shake my head. “I don’t—”
“A drink, Natalie. Even if you don’t want one, I need one.” Without waiting for a reply, he walks me into the kitchen. He spins a stool at the counter and gestures for me to sit. I do.
From a cabinet, he gets a bottle of whiskey and two tall glasses. He brings them over to the counter and turns the stool beside mine toward me and sits. I watch as he sets the bottle and glasses down, then pours about three fingers full into each glass. He closes his hand around one, pushes the other toward me with the knuckles of the same hand. His eyes never leave mine and when I raise my hand to the glass, it’s trembling. Sergio sees it too.
“The flowers,” I say, looking at the liquid, knowing it will burn when it goes down. “Were they a sign?” I pick up the whiskey, bring it to my lips, force a swallow. I hate this stuff but I take another sip because I need it right now. When I look up at him, he’s still watching me. “You said they’re funeral flowers.” I’m processing my own words as I say them. But I’ve known this all along, haven’t I? That knowing him, being with him, it puts me in danger.
He doesn’t answer for a long time, just watches me like he’s reading my thoughts, reading me.
Pepper lets out a bark from nearby and we both turn to her.
Sergio sets his glass down, gets up and opens a drawer, gets a bowl and fills it with water, sets it down in one corner and puts a second, empty one beside it.
“Why don’t you get her fed. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll cook us dinner then.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, swallowing the rest of the whiskey and setting my glass down before getting to my feet, walking over to where Pepper’s drinking the water. I kneel beside her, my back to Sergio, and pet her. She’s so old, her skin and fur feel oily. I don’t want to think about how much longer she’ll be around.