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“Natalie.” He smiles at me, kisses me softly. “Sweet, pretty Natalie.” He touches the scruff of his jaw to my temple. “You have to learn to swallow it all,” he whispers, and smears what I couldn’t swallow across my cheek, over the ruined lipstick, and kisses me, kisses me hard, his tongue where his cock just was, tasting his own cum, messing up my face, like he said he would.
“I love you,” he says, holding me close, so close with his hand wrapped around the base of my skull, keeping me against him. “I love you and you’re it for me. Mine. No matter what. Understand?”
I don’t know how much he drank, but I taste whiskey on his breath and the way he’s talking, the way he’s holding me, it’s strange. Too much. Too dark.
“Did something happen?” I dare to whisper. I don’t want to pull away, to interrupt this intimacy. Because what he’s saying, it’s true. I’m his. I know it and I want it.
He draws back, his face an inch from me.
“Mine, Natalie. Always. No matter what.”18NatalieSergio and I are the last to walk into the dining room. Everyone is already seated, his whole family, and one other man who’s reading something on his phone. I feel myself tense when he looks up and our eyes meet.
Franco makes a point of checking his watch as a waiter pours wine into his glass.
“Sorry we’re late, mom,” Sergio says, ignoring his father. “Natalie, this is my uncle, Roman.”
Roman stands, extends his hand to me. I pause. Sergio rubs my back and I try to stop my hand from shaking when I extend it to his. Roman is the man from the night at the warehouse. The one who asked if Sergio needed a cleaner.
His uncle smiles. It’s strange, like that night never happened. “Nice to meet you, Natalie,” he says cordially, sounding very different from how he’d sounded at the warehouse.
I don’t like him. I don’t like him even one little bit.
Sergio pulls out my chair and I sit down. He squeezes my hand under the table.
“You look beautiful, dear,” Sergio’s mom says.
“Thank you, Mrs. Benedetti.”
Mr. and Mrs. Benedetti are sitting across from me. Roman is on Franco’s right and Dominic is beside his mother. Salvatore is the cushion between me and Dominic and I’m grateful for it. There’s something about Dominic that makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Salvatore seems different. Franco and Roman outright terrify me.
Franco rings a bell and I’m startled to see a line of servants appear carrying dish after dish, and, beginning with Franco, serving him, then moving around the table.
Sergio gives me a wink when I glance at him, my eyebrows raised at this formality.
“My father can be elaborate. This is the first course so pace yourself,” he whispers in my ear.
I suddenly look at the place settings, wonder if I’m going to be expected to know which fork goes with which dish. When it’s my turn, I lean away as the servers fill my plate with a pasta dish that makes my mouth water.
It seems they all start talking at once then, Franco with Roman, Dominic with his mom, Salvatore and Sergio with each other as I sink backward in my seat. My stomach growls as I pick up my fork and am grateful for the fact that they’re so loud that no one would have heard.
I’m trying to participate but I’m engrossed just watching them so when Mrs. Benedetti asks me a question, the table goes quiet before I realize she’s talking to me.
“I’m sorry?” I set my fork down and wipe my mouth.
“Sergio tells me you’re studying architecture.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m at the University of Pennsylvania.”
“I majored in architecture way back when,” she says and smiles. I notice she’s barely eaten a bite of her food.
I smile back. “I love it, love houses, especially older homes like Sergio’s or this one.”
“You know, the family has some contacts, if you need help finding work,” Dominic says, shoving a huge mouthful of pasta into his mouth and watching me as he chews.
I feel like this is a test.
My gaze shifts to Franco, who’s also watching me.
Sergio clears his throat. “I’m sure Natalie will have no problem finding a job on her own,” he says, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. He did it earlier too, when I first met Dominic. “If she needs anything, I’ll take care of it.”
He’ll take care of it. He takes care of everything.
“I’m sure you will. Just want her to know her options, if she’s becoming part of the family, I mean.”
Mrs. Benedetti gives him a sideways glance and Dominic looks back innocently, raising his eyebrows, grinning, shoving more pasta into his big mouth.
Franco, who’s now leaning in his seat, drops his fork on his plate and rings the bell. Servers return to the dining room and clear the table, pour a different wine into a second glass, even though mine is still full. Although a drink would calm my nerves, I feel like I should stay alert.
