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.”

The statement hung in the air and he wondered what the significance was. He didn't have to wait long.

“I,” her voice rang in the large room, “was on a press trip and talking to our suppliers. I can't possibly be expected to remember every little thing.”

“No problem,” Natale shrugged, but Salvatore could feel the tension rolling off of Natale in waves. “We didn’t expect you to come in until after the show. But, just so you know, we’re in the middle of fittings for Bellezza and everything is going well.” He saw her square her shoulders and lift her chin a fraction of an inch. Something about her cousin had her on edge. Natale’s father had given him the names of the people working for Durante and their positions in the business. Caprice was listed as a family connection, and a designer, but the elder Durante hadn’t mentioned any issues between the cousins.

Caprice took in her cousin’s words with narrowed eyes. “It better be. You know how much is riding on this.”

He saw her words hit Natale like a physical blow. She struggled to keep her chin up and her voice level. “I know.”

Salvatore moved before he could think better of it. He stepped up behind Natale and set his hand lightly on her shoulder, aware that his size and weight would buckle her knees unless he was very careful, but he wanted to lend her his support.

He felt some tension leave her shoulders and his bear nudged him in approval.

That was when Caprice noticed him. It wasn’t a large reaction, a slight shift of her gaze, but he saw the hardening of her eyes and the slight whitening of her lips.

“And who,” her voice dropped in tone, “is this?”

“Mr. Orsino,” he admired Natale for keeping her tone even, “is part of Papa’s security changes.”

Caprice’s gaze crawled over him from head to toe, a slow calculating perusal. “He’s here to keep an eye on the workroom?”

He felt frustration roll through Natale. “He,” she stepped forward and he lost touch with her shoulder as she moved closer to her cousin, “is with me.”

The room chilled around him as Caprice leaned closer to Natale, seemingly unaffected by her show of courage. “Whatever, Nat. It’s going to take more than hired muscle to keep you from ruining this company. You better keep your mind on the work and off of his ass.”

Salvatore’s bear wanted to rip her to shreds almost as much as he did.

“Then again,” she leaned back, running her tongue over her teeth beneath her blood-red lipstick, “maybe he’s just your consolation prize when this falls down around your ears.”

Caprice let her words settle over the room like a shroud before she drew in a breath that sucked every last bit of air out of the room.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your fittings,” she cast a look over her shoulder at the room and the assembled huddle of women in the far corner before she returned back to Natale, “looks like you’re going to need them.”

The bear in him begged for freedom, pushing forward with a need to sink his claws into that woman’s cold heart, but Salvatore held a tight rein on his bear as he kept his focus on Natale. She didn’t move a muscle until Caprice had left the room, the echo of her heels hanging in the charged static of the air. When Natale did move, it was only to take a single breath.

“Natale,” his voice was soft enough that the others in the room wouldn’t hear him, “look at me.”

She was still for another moment and he wanted to pull her into his embrace, but before he could move she turned her head and raised her gaze to meet his.

He saw the pain in her eyes and the indecision. It was a testament to her strength that she hadn’t burst into tears at her cousin’s harsh comments.

“Do you need a moment?” He nodded toward the hallway. “We can go to your office for a few minutes or you can-”

“I need,” he watched a kind of calm settle over her, “I need to get back to work.” Natale swept a hand over her unbound hair, drawing attention to the loose natural curls and managed another breath. “Thank you,” she gave him a tentative smile, “that wasn’t something you signed up for.” She laughed and it almost sounded natural. “You know she might just be more dangerous than the threats,” her smile dimmed a little and then brightened up again, “she doesn’t even need a weapon to cut.”

Lifting her chin, she gave him a little nod.

“You let me worry about my cousin, and you can take care of the big bad guy out there trying to get to me, and everything will be okay.” Raising her hand, she gave him a pat on the arm. He tried not to notice that her hand shook because she was making such an effort to hold it together.

As she turned back to the workroom she clasped her hands together and brightened her expression into a big grin. “Okay, ladies… let’s get things rolling again. We’ve got a ton of work to do and we’re burning daylight.”

He watched her cross the room and take the hand of a model, leading her before a bank of mirrors before he let himself move a muscle. She walked with confidence, she spoke with confidence, and as he watched Natale work with her staff, he found himself feeling a savage pride for this woman who stood on her own two feet even in the face of her family’s scorn.

He only hoped he was worthy of her.

* * *

Standing in the shower, Natale touched her forehead to the tile and felt the heat of her skin leech away. Since before her mother passed away, Natale had struggled with ways to find a release for her pent-up emotions. Being the ugly duckling in a family of strikingly gorgeous people wasn’t easy, but she wasn’t one to feel sorry for herself.

At least not around her parents. Giovanni and Seraphina were proud people, they met challenges head on. Problems were fixed, not cried over. So Natale learned not to disappoint them, finding ways to mourn or struggle in the quiet of her room, and if tears were required, she would shed them in the shower where no one could hear how weak she was.

When the soft knock at the door reached her ears, she swept the back of her hand over her eyes, dashing both the water and tears away.

“Not now, Mr. Orsino.” She struggled to steady her voice so he wouldn't know what she was doing. “Please, I just need-”

The door opened in a rush. “Girl, you need a good ol’ romp in the hay or one of those bath wands for a massage.”

Natale pulled the curtain aside and gaped at her friend. “What are you doing here?”

Ericka held up a scarf and a brown paper bag. “I came to tell you that you left your scarf at work, and then on the way I stopped and got you something from the drug store.”

Narrowing her gaze at her friend, Natale shook her head. “Let me finish my shower and I’ll be out in a minute.” Ericka waved her free hand at her. “No need to rush. I'll just step outside and sit with the other hot guy.”

Natale’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Who is outside?”

Ericka fanned herself. “Not that I need a name to jump on that, but he introduced himself as Valerio.”

“Oh, one of Salvatore’s brothers.” She closed the curtain and grabbed for her body wash.

“Well, I’d like their parents’ home address so I can send them a thank you card. Those are some impressive genes.” Ericka laughed, always entertaining them both. “I’ll see you outside.”

Scrubbing the back of her neck, Natale paused for a moment. “Hey, Ericka?”

She heard the soft squeak of the door before Ericka’s voice reached her. “Yes, my bestest friend in the world?”

“That isn’t my scarf.”

A long sigh made its way through the sound of the water coursing from the showerhead.

“I know, I had to come up with some kind of excuse to come over and check out the hotness you’ve got holed up with you.”

Grabbing a face towel off the shelf, Natale pulled back the curtain and whipped it at Ericka, the towel landed smack on her shoulder and dripped water down the front of her blouse.

Ericka stared back in disbelief. “You wench!”

“You started it,” Natale shot back. “Now go outside and flirt so I can finish and get dressed.”

* * *

Ericka stayed through dinner, enjoying a glass of wine with Natale while Salvatore cooked. And Natale laughed as she bore up under Ericka’s constant double entendres. It wasn’t until Natale practically pushed Ericka out the front door near the midnight hour that her friend stole a glance at the side table in the hallway.

Natale followed her gaze and picked up the paper bag. “You never did tell me what you brought.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Ericka gave her a slow smile. “Just a few things I thought you might want to have on hand.” Impulsive as always, Ericka rushed at Natale and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Look, I know I’ve been giving you hell all night, joking about things. But I’ve been watching the two of you and, girl,” she blew a low whistle, “you two could power the building on looks alone.”

“No,” Natale shook her head, “that’s just wishful thinking, Ericka. You see what he looks like.” She couldn’t keep the longing out of her voice. Just as she couldn’t smooth out the pinch at the corners of her mouth. “Men like him and women like-”

Ericka shook her and Natale’s teeth snapped together. “You stop that right now.” She blinked back the light haze from the wine. “You are the most amazing person that I know and you have a man who sees that. And-” she pushed on before Natale could interrupt her, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I would give my right arm, okay, maybe my left arm since I’m right handed. But seriously, you deserve to give this a try.”

“The show-”

“Will be a success! You and I have been over this a thousand times since you came up with the concept and then a thousand times more after Mr. D gave you the go ahead. You’re going to make Bellezza a huge success, but you have to ask yourself what you’re doing for you. There is a life outside the workroom, sweetie. But you’re going to have to take a chance at it.” She pressed a kiss to each of Natale’s cheeks and whispered into her ear. “And the stuff in the bag? You can thank me later.”

When the door closed, Natale was still standing there in a daze. The click of the lock sliding into place shook her awake and she set the alarm like Uberto had taught her to do. Once that was done, she picked up the paper bag that Ericka had left for her.

She recognized the stamp on the side of the bag as the mark of the corner bodega market and wondered if there had been any pastries left when Ericka had walked in. She was hoping for an éclair or a bear claw. Either one would make her day after the clash with Caprice in the workroom.

Opening the top of the bag she peered in at the contents and hung her head. “What was she thinking?”

“Something wrong?”

She looked up and saw Salvatore watching her from the kitchen, his hands tangled up in a dishcloth.

“No,” she managed to wring the word from her throat even though she was sure she was just a few heartbeats away from melting to the ground, humiliated by Ericka’s gift, “I’m fine.”

He took a moment to look her over before he nodded, perhaps satisfied with the answer. “You should get some sleep. You have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

She nodded and he went back to the dishes, for that alone she wanted to chain him to her kitchen. The thought brought another flame of heat to her cheeks. She was trying to plot a route through her apartment that would keep her away from Salvatore’s prying eyes. The last thing she wanted him to know was that the bag in her hands held what must have been the entire selection of condoms from the bodega. There were half a dozen colors and an equal number of textures. Stepping into her bedroom for a moment, she dropped the bag into the drawer of her nightstand before she left and closed the door.