Natale was up before the sun. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, it was a habit she’d developed over the years. In design school the early morning hours were the perfect time to get into the sewing room, especially if you needed to use the washer and dryer. She set her alarm as a precaution every night, but even when she’d only had a few hours of sleep the night before, she would wake up with the birds.

The next morning was no exception. Rolling onto her back, Natale yawned and stared up at the molding around the edge of her ceiling. She was fairly sure the day before had actually happened. It wouldn’t have surprised her if it had all been a dream, because the very idea that a gorgeous guy was sleeping on her couch did seem more than a dream than reality.

Turning on her side, Natale grabbed up an armload of her blankets and hugged it tightly. It was a poor substitute for Salvatore, but this was much safer for her sanity. As she closed her eyes, she remembered her dinner the night before. Having him cook for her was amazing. She had no idea that food that tasty could actually be made in her kitchen! It was, to say the least, a revelation. Salmon and vegetables had never tasted so good, and she’d finished with a stomach full of gratitude for Salvatore, who had gone above and beyond the bodyguard job description.

But what had her mind whirling, and her head dizzy, even though she was lying down, was the fact that during their dinner, they had talked to each other. And they had listened to each other.

Natale loved her father dearly. He had been her rock for so many years, but listening wasn’t something he did well. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. Natale could see the love in his eyes and when he spent time with her during the design process, or in the workroom, she felt his love like sunshine.

Salvatore listened. He asked her intelligent, interesting questions, and then he cared about the answer. It was strange. With Salvatore she didn’t feel awkward when she spoke, and she wasn’t struggling to come up with something to say. To make matters better and worse, she found that she could tease him. She could be sassy and silly and not feel like she was making a fool of herself.

With Salvatore, she could just be herself.

It was an addictive feeling.

Oh, who was she kidding?

He was addictive. In just a few hours of knowing him, he’d surprised her in so many ways. What was she going to do when he left, she wondered? He said that they were meant to be together, but really, how could he know?

Turning onto her back again she laid a forearm over her eyes and groaned. If someone had described the situation to her the day before she would have called it Folie a Deux. But it wasn’t that complicated.

She knew the answer. Salvatore was a romantic at heart. You could take the tall, dark, crazy-sexy man from Italy, but he’d always carry that overwhelming machismo and passionate heart that made Italian men so delicious. Once this was over and he moved on to his next assignment he’d forget about her.

The trouble was, Natale knew he’d made his way into her head and her heart, and she knew that she’d never be able to get over him. He was too deep inside of her skin, deep down in the center of her chest where her heart beat a punishing rhythm.

The doorbell sounded, reaching Natale in her bedroom. The loud jolting sound was going to wake Salvatore, she was sure of it. She really wasn’t in a hurry to throw on her robe and shuffle to the door.

But, the doorbell wouldn’t stop. Natale rolled onto her side and blinked at the clock. She didn’t see the numbers clearly through her bleary eyes, but she could see the light outside of her window, and there was barely a haze of light in the sky. It was way too early for someone to be there to see her.

And still the doorbell continued.

She was only mildly happy that her only neighbor’s door was at the far end of the hall and he wouldn’t hear a thing, but she was going to have to kill someone if there wasn’t someone already bleeding in the hallway.

Throwing back her blanket, she swung her legs over the edge. She didn’t bother with any slippers, setting her feet on the floor. A moment later she left her bedroom, making a beeline for the door. Self-preservation reigned supreme and she leaned forward to look out of the peephole. And she’d be damned if it didn’t seem like the man outside was looking right back. When he stepped back from the door she got a chance to look at him. It was his suit that first caught her eye, she could recognize style anywhere and she knew at a glance that the same tailor that made Salvatore’s suit had made this one. Looking up at his face, she couldn’t deny the family resemblance. The mustache and beard were a bit lighter in thickness, but the intense features and the shape of his face marked him as one of the younger Orsino brothers.

Opening the set of locks on the door she pulled it open with a sigh. “Good morning, Mr. Orsino.”

His smile was quicker than his brother’s and held a boyish twist at the corner. “Good morning, Miss Durante. How-”

She shrugged. “DNA doesn’t lie, and your parents must have been gorgeous.”

“Gracie, Miss Durante.” Leaning closer, his hand braced on the door frame above her head and she caught scent of his cologne, a subtle but well blended scent. “Is my brother available?”

“Your brother,” a voice rumbled from the room behind her, sending a shiver down her spine, “is waiting for you to show some respect.”

Natale turned a bit to the side so that she cleared the doorway.

Her new ‘guest’ stepped up beside her, his hand still on the doorframe above her head, almost leaning against her shoulder. “I’m perfectly respectful, brother, but you on the other hand, should take a look in the mirror.” A heartbeat later he held out his free hand. “I would think twice before you stand up, ‘Tore.”

“Just get inside and close the door.”

More than a little frustrated with his grumpy tone, Natale turned to give him a piece of her mind and promptly lost it again. “Goodness!” She leaned her head back against the wall. “Will you please put some clothes on?”

She forced her eyes away from him, darting it down to the floor, struggling to ignore the expanse of bare skin that was laid out on her couch, draped… barely draped in a blanket so thin, it was probably one of her extra sheets from the linen closet.

“What did you do with your shirt?” She winced at the sharp tone of her voice and resisted the urge to fan herself with her hand.

Salvatore grabbed a hold of the back of the couch and sat up against the arm. Tilting his head toward the small dining set behind him he yawned. “On the chair.”

Natale leaned to the side and squinted at the clothing laid over the back of the chair, she saw the shirt and the suitcoat and another garment laid underneath them. She looked at the lines of the garment and as realization dawned on her she felt her cheeks heat up. “Are those your pants?”

She winced at the sound of her voice, nearly half an octave higher than it normally was.

He certainly didn’t look shocked at her question.

But if there was one way to describe his grin, she would say he was cocksure.

When he opened his mouth, he proved her right.

“This is how I sleep.”

“On my couch?”

He stretched, arching his back, only to have the blanket slip down and pool around his hips. “I would have slept with you if you’d let me.”

She heard his brother’s laugh in her ear and tensed instinctively. She’d forgotten that Salvatore’s brother was standing beside her.

“I’m not discussing this in my living room, in front of your brother.”

Sliding his hand down over his face, Salvatore gave her a long look from head to toe, his eyes darkening in that strange way of his, and she swore that he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable.

And he was doing a great job of it.

His grin stretched as slowly as he moved his hand over his beard. “Would you like to discuss it in your bedroom?”

When she didn’t answer him he began to move, dropping one leg and then the other over the side of the couch and onto the floor. She watched in rapt attention as he continued to move, struggling to wake up. The short length of hair at the top of his head was sleep-tousled and the man obviously spent some time without his shirt on in the sun, because every inch of his torso and arms were a deep rich caramel, like the kind she loved to pour on her sundaes. And there would be plenty to pour it on from his pec muscles, his insane set of abs, and as he turned she caught sight of his back with its long bands of muscles. She knew she was staring, but how could she help it? She had eyes and a healthy interest in men, just not a lot of opportunities to view someone as impressive as Salvatore.

He stood and the blanket that had covered him on the couch was now on the floor.

“Oh my-” she clapped a hand over her eyes and turned away, facing the wall. With her free hand, she reached to her side and made a blind grab and managed to get a handful of clothing from her new guest. “Make him put something on!”

She felt the vibration of a laugh before she heard it. “Have I interrupted something?”

She turned to glare at him, dropping her hand away from her eyes. “No, but you did get me out of bed before dawn!”

He shrugged and stepped further inside, closing the door behind him. “When my boss says to bring something over for a client, that’s what I do.” Reaching up, he tugged a sleek messenger bag free from his shoulder and tossed it across the room. Salvatore snatched the bag from midair and unzippered it a moment later, focused on the task at hand.

“I should introduce myself, since my brother is apparently otherwise occupied,” relieved of his burden, he turned toward her, “I’m Uberto Orsino.“ She took his offered hand and shook it. “I’m the prettiest of the brothers.”

The floor felt like it was vibrating and Natale turned to see if something was threatening to fall off of her entryway table. Uberto didn’t show any outward signs of worry. In fact, he seemed to lean toward the sound, his smile widening on his lips.

“Something wrong, Tore?”

“Back away from her.” The words flung across the room and Natale almost felt the physical impact of them, pushing Uberto away. She heard the unspoken undercurrent of his words loud and clear. ‘Mine.’

“So, I am interrupting something.” Uberto moved around Natale, taking a wide arc around her on his way to his brother. “We can arm wrestle over the lady later, Tore. But before you challenge me to a duel, you’re going to want to take a look.” He pointed to the bag in Salvatore’s hands. “And I brought the security system to install. I left the components in the car downstairs, I want to take a look around first.”

Natale latched onto the idea of a way to leave the room without looking like she was running away from him because he was standing in her living room, bare naked without a care in the world. “I’ll take you on a tour!” She felt her smile pull a little too tight, her voice echoing in her ears. Natale touched Uberto on the arm. “We’ll start with the kitchen.”

Taking mercy on her, Uberto stepped to the side and set a hand on her lower back to guide her toward the kitchen. They’d only gone a few steps when Natale saw Salvatore narrow his chocolate-dark eyes. “Keep your hands away from her.”

His hand disappeared a second later and she nearly stumbled over her own feet. She turned her head enough to meet Uberto’s curious look. “I go most of my life being ignored by men, and now I have two that seem to be using me to fight with each other. Maybe I’ll just go back to bed-”

“Natale?” Salvatore’s voice had softened a bit from his last words to his brother, and she felt it settle on her shoulder as if it was his hand caressing her. “I needed him to know.”

“Know?” She had to say something. He sounded contrite, but she wasn’t sure. “Know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

He said it like it was undeniable, like the sky being blue and the sun rising in the east. She wanted to roll her eyes and laugh off his words, but when she looked into his eyes she realized that it would be only too easy to start to believe him. How could she not? A man who had filled her dreams with all manner of naughty ideas and breathless sighs said he wanted her.

That just didn’t happen to her. Natale Durante could handle a pair of shears and a sewing machine like nobody’s business, but while men might respect her from time to time, they didn’t see her as desirable.

Was it any wonder that she really was thinking of jumping in with both feet? At least until the show? After that, when his job was done… She shook herself and swallowed hard, she would just deal with it then. At least, she would have an awesome memory, right?

She started to move, but stopped when she heard his voice. “Natale?”

“Sure,” she felt her stomach twist, but she just wanted to get out of the room. Being around Salvatore was like swimming out into the ocean instead of a pool, the riptide was waiting just beneath the surface, ready to suck you under. So, she plastered a smile on her face and nodded. “Okay, he knows.” She left the room a heartbeat later with Uberto at her heels, wondering if she really knew what she was getting into.

* * *

The tour was fast enough. Her apartment was large by New York standards but there wasn’t much to see. She spent more time at the workroom or the fabric district or meetings than anything else. It had been years since anyone besides Ericka had spent more than the few minutes it took to deliver food inside her apartment. It had only taken a few nasty letters and a pesky death threat to change that.

Yeah, her life sucked.

Uberto was all business, his eyes raking over each room, his hands testing all the windows and door locks, his mind mentally making notes as they went. It gave her a chance to think, her mind quiet enough to realize that being in a room with him wasn’t the same as being with Salvatore. The younger Orsino didn’t suck the air out of the room leaving her breathless. He didn’t make her tremble with a look. And even though they were both insanely gorgeous, the only one she wanted to undress and have sweating above her in bed, was Salvatore.

She squeezed her eyes closed to block out the image and felt a strangled moan pass her lips.

If he heard the sound, Uberto had the good manners not to mention it. He did make a production of opening the door, letting the squeal of the hinge cue her in that he was ready to leave. She swallowed her pride and opened her eyes. The look in his as he stepped to the side of the door for her to precede him told her all she needed to know. The smile that played across his lips was plainly visible beneath his perfectly trimmed mustache. The look in his eyes wasn’t mean, but it certainly held more than a little humor.

When she walked past him she poked him straight in the chest. “You better keep that to yourself.”

Uberto leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “I wouldn’t say a word if I wanted to. My brother means what he says. There’s no way I would get between the two of you, unless I wanted him to rip my arms off and feed them to me for breakfast.” The laughter fell to the wayside as he looked at her, his eyes almost the same dark chocolate brown as his brother, but their centers were lighter around his pupils and now it held a deeper intensity as he searched her eyes. “He’s guarded hundreds of people,” he paused and she struggled to understand the magnitude of that number, “and he’s never said those things about anyone else.”

For a moment she almost started to believe, but she shook it off, an awkward laugh caught in her throat. “I think my father’s been over-reacting to all of this. My cousin and I think it’s just a bunch of people with too much time on their hands, and time is something I don’t have right now. The Bellezza show is in a few days,” she picked up his arm and looked at the watch on his arm, “and I need to start getting ready to go to work. So, I’m going to do that while you and your brother-”

“’Berto!”

Startled, Natale let go of Uberto’s arm and covered her heart with her hand. She turned to ask the younger Orsino a question, but he was gone, running down the hall toward the living room.

Natale followed as quickly as her legs would allow. When she re-entered the living room she saw the two brothers crowded around a little metal box on the coffee table. She’d seen that box on her father’s shelf for the last few months.

“Did my father give you that?”

Salvatore didn’t look up as he held up a handful of letters and shoved them into his brother’s hand.

Moving closer, Natale felt sick to her stomach. She’d put those letters out of her mind. She had to. If she let them in her head, she’d be a complete mess, and her business, her people deserved better than a quivering, sobbing mess.

With the Orsino brothers there she couldn’t ignore their words, what they were saying about the letters. There were other things in the box as well, things she hadn’t seen. By the weight and look of the paper they were newspaper and magazine clippings. The print marching across the top of the cut sheets said Letter to the Editor. Instead of just sending her the mean letters, they’d gone to the newspapers to try to ruin her reputation.

She felt her middle twist painfully, but she tried not to let it show on her face.

She heard an odd scratching sound, as if Salvatore’s nails were scoring the metal bottom of the box. When he withdrew his hand, he held another paper from the bottom of the box. He handed it to Uberto and that’s when she saw it. A picture of her, taken outside under some trees. She recognized it immediately. Seated in the grass, a sketch book in her lap, she was in the Ramble, her favorite ‘me’ spot in all of New York.

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.