13. Savio
13
SAVIO
T wo evenings later, I get the call on a burner from the guy I have looking out for Marco Black—he’s at the bar. I’m told that he just showed up and looks like he’s settling in, so I have just enough time to give Nicci some clothes and get us out there. Hopefully we’ll make it before any other woman claims him for the night, or he decides to cash out and head someplace new.
A strange swirl of emotion churns through me as I set the phone down. I should be anticipating taking out another of my brother’s men. Taking another step forward in my plan to eradicate or possess everything he once had or wanted. But all I can think about is that in order for tonight to go forward as planned, Nicci has to pretend to seduce another man. Touch another man. Let him touch her.
It feels like an obsession, and not the kind of obsession that I’ve developed over the past years to craft my life into what it is now. I’m obsessed with plenty of things—order, rules, control. I don’t spend wildly or act without thinking things through first. And that’s why this obsession with Nicci, this new obsession, could unravel everything if I don’t get a handle on it.
She makes me feel feral. Primal. Barely in control. She’s the antithesis of everything I’ve built in the past years since I left Manhattan, and I can’t help but think that she could destroy everything if I’m not careful.
Maybe tonight is what I need to remind myself of the goal. A sort of exposure therapy—seeing Nicci enact our plan.
I take her the clothes that I had a shopping assistant pick out for her to wear tonight, collecting her dinner tray. She looks at me with barely veiled excitement when she takes them, but I don’t let myself linger for too long. I can’t. Not when I feel heat sliding through my veins just from being near her.
When she comes downstairs to meet me, I’m already waiting, dressed a bit more casually than usual. The sight of her walking down the stairs makes my heart briefly stutter in my chest, my cock instantly, painfully hard.
She doesn’t look anything like the women I usually sleep with. She doesn’t even look the way I’ve dressed her for previous outings. She looks more like she did at the Gilded Lily, but with better clothing…clothes that fit her, that suit her body.
Clothes that I want to rip off of her.
She’s wearing a pair of low-cut black jeans and a red, cropped tank top with snap buttons down the front, with low-top black sneakers. She put her hair up in a ponytail, which, along with the smoky, dark makeup she’s wearing, highlights her angular, model-like features.
She looks like I want to fucking ruin her.
Her gaze flicks downward as she meets me at the bottom of the stairs, and I see the small smirk that tilts the corners of her mouth when she realizes she’s already made me hard. I feel the subtle shift of power between us, that slight tilt as my desire comes into focus, and my jaw tightens.
I’m the one in control.
“Let’s go,” I tell her curtly. “The driver’s waiting, and I don’t want to miss our shot.”
In the car, we go over the plan again. Nicci will go in first, order a drink, and approach Marco. I’ll wait ten minutes and then go in, finding a place in the back to watch—until she convinces him to take her back to his place. Then, once again, I’ll follow and sneak in while she keeps him occupied, and we’ll finish him off.
I can sense her eagerness. She’s more fidgety than usual, tapping her fingers on her knee, biting her lip, shuffling her feet across the floor. It’s as if she had a taste for revenge last time, and now she can’t wait for more.
The driver pulls into the alley next to the bar, and Nicci slides out as he parks. My stomach tightens, my hands clench as I watch her walk away, out of my sight, and my entire body hums with the need to go after her. To reclaim her. To remind her that she’s mine.
I breathe slowly, trying to focus, to remain in control. The ten minutes that I’m forced to sit and wait feel interminably long. Finally, my watch beeps, and I get out of the car, taking long strides towards the bar entrance.
It’s another dive, much like the one where I met Saul. Dark and overly warm, with the scent of cheap beer and sweat overlaying everything, old rock hits playing through the speakers. I spot Marco and Nicci instantly, at one corner of the bar, and my jaw tightens, my teeth grinding so hard that I’m momentarily worried I might crack one.
Nicci has already made her move. There’s a beer in front of her, and she’s half in Marco’s lap, whispering something in his ear. His hand is roving down her lower back, thick fingers nudging at the waist of her jeans for a moment before he slides his hand lower to grab her ass.
Even over the music, I swear I can hear her giggle, and it makes me see red. I retreat to a back table, watching them like a hawk, and foregoing a drink. I don’t trust myself to go to the bar—I’ll end up breaking his neck instead of ordering a beer.
It feels painful, watching her with him. I force myself not to look away. This is the plan, I remind myself. You’re using her for a purpose. That’s why you took her. To use her. What does it matter if he touches her? He’s going to die for it eventually.
I repeat it over and over in my head, the way I’ve repeated any number of mantras over the years, until I see Marco lift Nicci off his lap, toss cash down onto the bar, and sling his arm around her waist to guide her out back. My jaw tightens again, because if he tries to fuck her in an alley instead of taking her back to his apartment, our plan will fall apart.
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should follow. Veering off-course goes against all the ways I’ve trained myself to think over the years, but a gut instinct tells me that this is going to go differently from how we planned.
Taking a deep breath, I start to head for the back entrance. The alley is right next to the bar. If they’re already heading to Marco’s ride or waiting for an Uber, I’ll be able to duck over to my car and follow them without losing time. Nicci has my number and a burner in her pocket if she needs to text me an address. And something keeps needling at me, telling me that if I don’t follow, something will go wrong.
The moment I step outside, I’m glad I trusted my instincts. Marco has Nicci pinned to the wall of the bar, on the other side of the dumpster, shrouded in the shadows left from the parking lot lights that flood off to the side. She has her arms around his neck, her head tilted back, one leg wrapped around his waist—but the instant my shoes crunch against the gravel, her eyes fly open, and I see the expression there.
Help.
Her eyes are wide, her lips parting, mouthing the word. He’s not taking her somewhere else, like we planned. He’s decided he wants to fuck her in the parking lot and then head back into the bar, and just the thought of that sends a flood of anger through me, crystallizing sharply in my veins as I reach for the gun beneath my jacket.
I move closer. It’s hard to be stealthy out here, but Marco isn’t listening to anything except his own grunts and the fake, breathy moans Nicci is responding with. As I get within a couple of feet of him, I can see that he has his jeans unzipped, his hard, stubby cock grinding against Nicci through her clothes.
The thought of him getting to finish, of him marking her in any way, even over her clothes, propels me forward. I close the distance between us in three strides, grabbing a fistful of Marco’s hair as I yank him back, away from Nicci and to one side. Before he can get a word out, before he can even try to struggle, the muzzle of the silencer on my gun is pressed to the back of his head, and I pull the trigger.
The dull sound of the shot thuds in the air between us, and as I let him go, he drops to the gravel. I step away from him, looking down at his limp body, blood pooling around his skull and his now-limp cock lying against his open zipper.
Before I can stop myself, I aim at his groin and pull the trigger again.
“Savio!” Nicci gasps out my name, and a jolt runs through me at the sound, my cock hardening at the breathy sound of my name on her lips. When I look up, she’s staring at me with a shocked, angry expression on her face, and she starts to push away from the wall.
I stride forward before she can, blocking her in as I grab the back of her neck and slam my mouth against hers.
She gasps, her lips parting, and I take full advantage. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, tasting her, sweet and hoppy from the beer she just drank, the warm perfume of her skin and hair filling my senses. Every inch of my body throbs as I press myself against her, pinning her to the wall, like my desire is a living, pulsing thing that’s taking me over. I’ve never been so fucking hard in my entire life, never wanted anything as much as I want her in this moment, and fear rattles through me on the heels of the desire, the fear of losing control.
Of losing control to her .
The gun is still in my hand. I raise it, pressing the silencer to the side of her head. Against me, Nicci freezes, her lips still touching mine.
“I should kill you,” I whisper, unmoving. My lips move against hers as I speak, my breath and hers warming each other’s mouths. “The way you’re making me feel right now…I should kill you for it. End this, right now. You were Barca’s, just like that man was. I should kill you, too.”
Inexplicably, I feel her mouth curve under mine in a smile. A fucking smile, while I have a gun pressed to her temple.
“You won’t,” she whispers, and the feeling of her mouth forming the words against mine makes my cock throb painfully.
I swallow hard, my teeth gritted together as I speak. “Why the fuck not, principessa ?”
“Because,” she whispers, and I feel her hand slip between us, cupping the aching hardness pressed against her. “You haven’t fucked me yet.”
I close my eyes, fighting for control. I can feel it slipping through my fingers, and I can’t grasp onto it. My head feels thick, heavy—everything lost in a fog of lust.
“It’s time we fucking do something about that, then.”
My hand still gripping the back of her neck, I wrench her around, marching us both in the direction of the alley where the car is parked, the gun still pressed to her temple. “Move,” I hiss, the throbbing pulse of my desire roaring in my ears, and Nicci strides forward, not a hint of fear in her. She’s not trembling, or crying, or trying to beg. She walks as if everything is normal, as if she’s not a finger-twitch from death, and I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.
I’ve never wanted a woman like I want her. I’ve never met a woman like her. And I’m going to make her mine if it fucking kills us both.
I wrench the passenger’s door open, pushing Nicci inside with my hand still on the back of her neck. I follow her in, taking one look at my driver, waiting in the front. “Take a walk,” I snarl, and he jumps a little, giving a quick nod.
“Yes, boss.” He’s out of the car in an instant, and I close the door hard behind me, leaning over Nicci. She’s very still, on her knees on the leather seat, her hands braced against the other door as if she knows what’s coming.
“Don’t fucking move,” I growl, the gun still pressed to the side of her head as I let go of her neck, reaching for the front of her tank top. I rip it open with one quick motion, the snaps coming undone, her breasts suddenly bare in the cool air of the car. I slide my hand down the front of her, her nipples puckering under my palm, and she lets out a small, shuddering moan.
“You like this, don’t you, principessa? ” I pinch one of her nipples between my fingers, twisting it sharply, and she cries out. “You’ve wanted me to fuck you for weeks now. You were wet as a fucking river when I spanked you in my playroom. I bet you’re fucking wet now, aren’t you?”
Nicci’s jaw tightens, and I pinch at her nipples again, harder this time. “Answer me, troia .”
“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, I’m wet for you. Sir .”
My cock lurches, painfully hard. “Good girl,” I growl, and my hand drops to the front of her jeans.
I yank the zipper down, grabbing the side of the waist and dragging them down her hips in one sharp motion, along with her thong. They tangle around her knees, and I suck in a harsh breath as I look down at her, half-naked underneath me, the puffy folds of her dripping pussy visible between her slender thighs.
“You are wet.” I reach down, sliding two fingers roughly into her, and Nicci cries out as I feel her tighten around me, her body hungry for it. Her back arches, her hips pressing back into my hand, and I chuckle darkly as I push the gun into her temple. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” She lets out a small sob. “ Fuck , Savio?—”
Lust roars through me, burning hot, and I click the safety back on, tossing the gun to the floorboard as I reach for my zipper. I yank it down, two fingers still buried inside of her as I palm my cock free. My thumb rolling over her clit as I angle myself between her thighs.
In one swift movement, I slide my fingers free and my cock into her, hips snapping forward as I thrust into her hard.
Nicci cries out at the force of it, my thick cock stretching her as I sink to the hilt. Her fingers curl around the edge of the door, one hand shooting out to grab the back of the seat in front of her as I grip her neck again with my free hand, fingers curling around her throat as I start to thrust.
A groan drags from my throat, white-hot pleasure racing down my spine. She feels so fucking good, wet and tight and hot, clasped around me like velvet. Every stroke feels impossibly good, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, my balls already tight with the desperate need to come. Whatever self-control I had remaining snapped a few minutes ago, when I saw Marco grinding on her against the wall, and everything that I’ve been trying to hold back has been unleashed.
Nicci cries out, her head falling back as I fuck her as hard and fast as I can, slamming into her again and again with a force that makes the car shift back and forth. One hand is still moving between her legs, rubbing her clit at a feverish pace, and she lets out another moan, her hips thrusting back against me with every stroke.
“Savio.” She pants my name, ending on a whimper. “Savio, oh my god?—”
“This feels good, doesn’t it, my filthy little principessa ?” I lean in, whispering it harshly in her ear, still slamming into her relentlessly. “It’s going to feel even better when you come on my cock. You like it splitting you open like this, don’t you? Fucking you so hard you’ll feel it for days? You’ll still be dripping my cum tomorrow, pet.”
She lets out another moan, her back arching further, and I can feel that she’s close, tightening around me like a vise. I jerk the hand that’s between her thighs away, reaching up to grab her wrist where she’s bracing herself against the door, and drag it back to where I was touching her a moment ago.
“Make yourself come on my cock,” I rasp, letting go of her hand and curling my fingers around the edge of her hip, my fingertips pressing against the sharp angle of bone as I thrust again, hard. I’m on the edge, every muscle in my body wound tight, and I’m not going to be able to last much longer. Whatever self-control I had is lost, and with that goes my ability to control how long I’m going to be able to wait to come inside of her. She feels too good—everything about this feels too fucking good.
“Oh, God.” Nicci pants, her fingers moving feverishly between her thighs, her breathing ragged, punctuated by keening moans every time I slam my thick length into her. “Oh god, yes, Savio ?—”
I feel the moment she starts to come—her tight pussy squeezing my cock as if she wants to drag my orgasm out of me. Her back arching as her head falls back, her blonde hair draped over her shoulders and back. Her hips slam back into me, bucking as she grinds herself onto her hand, onto my cock. I can’t stop the rush of bright, hot pleasure that overwhelms me in an explosion—making dots of light burst in my vision in the dark interior of the car.
A ragged groan spills from my lips as the first spurt of my cum spills inside of her, slicking my cock with it as I keep thrusting through my orgasm. I can’t stop, can’t slow down—the exquisite sensation of finally, finally letting go is obliterating all else as I keep coming. The orgasm seems to go on forever, throbbing, pulsing, until I finally start to come down from the high and see Nicci slumped forward against the door.
Even still buried inside of her, my orgasm was so intense that I can feel my cum dripping around the base of my cock. I thrust once more, my nerves sparking with the sensation against my oversensitive length, and then I force myself to slide out of her, leaning back on my heels.
A shudder runs through her. At first, I think it’s an aftershock of pleasure, but then I hear the sound that spills from her lips, a muffled, choked sob.
She’s crying .
Guilt floods me, and anger is quick on the heels of it. She’s mine to do with as I please. She’s lucky I didn’t decide I’m finished with this and follow through on my threat to kill her. But all of the justifications sound hollow in my head, and that only makes me angrier. I didn’t come back to Manhattan to find my brother’s discarded girlfriend and develop feelings for her. I didn’t come back here to confront my own failings, or to give myself something to eat myself alive over.
I came back here to take . And that’s what I’ve done.
I curse under my breath, flinging open the door of the car as I shove myself back into my pants and zip up, going to find the driver. He’s at the end of the alley, smoking a cigarette, and although he doubtless heard the noises coming from the car, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods when I tell him curtly that it’s time to go, and puts out his cigarette, striding back towards the car.
When I slide back into the car, Nicci has fixed her clothing. She’s curled into the corner of her side of the car, her face turned away from me, but I can see the tracks of tears running down her face in the dim light of the car. Her shoulders are still softly shaking, and she won’t look at me.
The sudden urge to reach for her jolts through me, an instinct to pull her into my chest and wipe away the tears trailing down her cheeks. It’s shocking, foreign, and I push it away as soon as it manifests, rejecting the feeling.
I’ve never felt the urge to comfort someone before. I’ve never been in situations where I might need to. I’ve kept myself largely apart from others over the years, walling myself off from emotions in friendships, in relationships…such as they were. I can’t really call any time I’ve spent with a woman since Sophie a ‘relationship.’
I have no reason to feel it now. I could try to untangle why I do—what combination of the plan going wrong, seeing Marco with Nicci, my threat to her, and the intoxicating pleasure of finally being inside of her—combined with coming back to this —is causing me to have this reaction.
But I don’t. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s because, deep down, I simply don’t want to know.
Nicci doesn’t move for the entire drive back to the penthouse. She stays glued to her spot, knees pulled to her chest. Her lips are pressed together, and the occasional choked sound spills from them. Her shoulders still trembling. Looking at her makes me feel like a monster, and that makes me angry, so I finally look away, refusing to see her while she’s like this.
The moment the car pulls into the garage, she bolts out of it, heading straight for the garage door that leads into the building, as if she’s forgotten she can’t get in without my key. Her shoulders are stiff, her body purposefully turned away from me, and that anger vibrates through me again.
“I think you’ve forgotten the rules, principessa ,” I growl as I walk up to her. “You wait for me. You do what I say and you go where I tell you?——”
“Just let me in.” Her voice is flat, wet with tears, and I grit my teeth.
“Your insolence?—”
“Let me in!” She slams her hands against the glass of the door, startling me. Before I can stop myself—and think about how she should be reprimanded for this—I pull my key out of my pocket, flashing it in front of the reader.
The door clicks open, and she bolts through it. She’s up the stairs faster than I can catch up to her, all the way to the elevator. She flings herself into it, the doors closing on me, and I see her huddling into the corner as I let out a sharp breath of frustration, slapping my hand against the button just in time.
“You can’t get up to the penthouse without me, pet,” I snap. “And this behavior?—”
“Leave me alone.” She twists away from me, her eyes red, leaking tears again. The moment the elevator doors open, she’s out of them again, clearly beyond caring how I might punish her, what might happen because of this. She only waits long enough for me to unlock the front door before she’s up the stairs, flinging herself into her room, and I follow her in, standing several feet behind her.
“Come with me, Nicci.”
“No.” Her voice is hollow. “I’m not doing it.”
“Clearly you need another lesson in who you belong to?—”
“Fuck off.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Call off the deal, whatever. I don’t care anymore.”
I blink at her, unable to believe that she actually means that. I saw the fire in her when we took down Lucas, saw her anticipation of killing Marco tonight. There’s more left, and we haven’t even gotten to her father yet. That’s the reason, I think, she really made this deal in the first place.
“I’ll give you one more chance, principessa .”
I’m not sure why I’m offering her another chance. I should be dragging her to the playroom right now, punishing her thoroughly, reminding her that her body, her will, her desires are all mine now. That this kind of attitude is unacceptable. I should be calling off our deal, just as she said, locking her in this room until I’m finished taking my pleasure from her, and then finding somewhere different for her to be of use. I could put her in a club in Vegas, in LA, in Miami, somewhere far away from me—somewhere I could forget about her.
Instead, I stand there, rooted to the spot as I wait for her to give in. To break and say she’s sorry. To go down on her knees and beg me to forgive her.
Somehow, the image of that repulses me, even as I feel myself get hard. The thought of breaking her feels wrong, even as it arouses me. I want her submission—and I want her rebellion, too.
I grit my teeth, taking a step forward. I need to master this—both her and myself. “Take your clothes off and give them back to me,” I bite out, trying not to think about my cum dripping out of her right now, soaking her panties, her jeans.
She stiffens, on the verge of refusal, and I start to take another step forward, unsure of what I’m going to do when I get to her. But I never get the chance to figure it out.
Instead, I hear the sound of the front door crashing open below—and a voice shouting in Italian: “ Look upstairs!”
I reach for my gun, cursing aloud when I realize it’s still on the floorboard of the car. “Stay here!” I snap at Nicci, pivoting on my heel. “Don’t fucking leave this room.”
And then I bolt toward my own room, and the gun that I know is in the nightstand there.