“You didn’t when you beat up my professor. Not when you changed the locks on my house without my permission, and now you’re not listening either.”
“Aren’t you glad that I did change those locks?”
I stare up at him, and before I can answer, he puts the flat of one hand in the middle of my chest and walks me backward until my back hits the wall.
“I’m a modern man, Natalie, but I have my limits, and when it comes to your safety, I decide.”
“And what, I do as I’m told?”
“That’s ideal.” He’s trying to make light of it.
I try to push his hands off but can’t. “Let me go.”
“No. I already told you, I’m not letting you go.”
“You don’t get to decide for me.”
“I won’t leave you unprotected.”
“I wouldn’t be in danger if it wasn’t for you being who you are.”
“Enough!” He slams his fist into the wall.
I let out a small scream, and freeze.
There’s an anger that’s barely controlled when he next speaks, his voice low, a warning. “You went into this with both eyes wide open. You know it and I know it.”
I shudder.
Is he right? I didn’t know it, though, not like this.
But isn’t that bullshit? And does it even matter? I won’t leave anyway. That, I know.
He grips my jaw and tips it up, makes me look at him. “The first time we met, I had a gun aimed at the asshole hurting you. The second time, I had that gun pointed at your head. You’ve known from day one who I was. I’ve told you to stop me, to make me go. Told you I would if you told me to. But you didn’t, did you? The other night when I fucked you , when I told you to tell me to leave, you didn’t. Again. You. Did. Not. Well, it’s too fucking late now, Natalie.”
“I didn’t intend…” I shake my head, try to clear it.
“What? You didn’t intend what?”
But the words that come into my head make no sense.
“What?” he growls, this time slapping both hands flat on the wall on either side of my head, making me wince and cower, caging me in.
He must see my terror because he exhales, rubs his face with his hands. “Fuck.” It takes him a few minutes but when he speaks again, his voice is controlled. “What didn’t you intend?”
Someone clears their throat. Sergio takes a deep breath in, clearly irritated, and turns to Eric who’s standing beneath the arched entry.
“You need to see something,” he says, then adds something on in Italian.
Sergio walks over to him, and they both look at Eric’s phone.
“Fucking bastard,” Sergio mutters. “Give me a minute.” Eric leaves and Sergio comes to me. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Are you fixing it? Is this youfixingit? Will you come back with another bruise on your knuckles? Maybe blood on your shirt this time?”
