18. Nicci
18
NICCI
N othing about that went the way I thought it would. I rush out of Savio’s room, tears beading on my eyelashes, and humiliation washes over me.
I was an idiot to think that would work, that it would give me back an ounce of power over him. That he’d realize I had snuck into his room, and let that go, just because I did it to please him. He’s made it clear, over and over, that he’s the one in control. It was stupid to think that yesterday might have changed even a fraction of that.
I rush down the hall to my room, wanting to be behind the closed door, alone. I’m so focused on getting back there, on shutting everything else out, that I almost run directly into the guard coming upstairs. I skid to a stop, about to go around him, but he puts out a hand to stop me.
“Are you alright?”
I hesitate. I have no idea if I’m supposed to talk to these men or not. Truthfully, I don’t really want to. I want to pretend that they’re not even here. They’re for my ‘safety’, according to Savio, but they don’t make me feel safe. They make me feel uncomfortable.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “I just need to go back to my room.”
His gaze sweeps over me, and my skin instantly prickles with discomfort. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m in only the babydoll nightgown that I bought yesterday, barefoot and naked underneath it, almost worse than being entirely naked. His gaze heats, full of a hungry lust that I know all too well, and I swallow hard as I start to move past him.
He doesn’t stop me. That’s a relief, at least, but my heart doesn’t stop pounding until I’m back in my room, with the door firmly closed behind me.
Savio doesn’t come to get me for training. He doesn’t come to my room at all. The guards alternate dropping off my breakfast and lunch. One of them is the leering guard from earlier—he lingers just a little too long as he sets down my lunch tray, looking at the leggings and sports bra that I’m wearing before he finally leaves. When I’m done eating, I wait a little while before finally assuming that Savio isn’t coming to get me at all today. I go through a workout of my own—running through crunches and pushups and drills in my room—until I’m sweaty and exhausted. I force myself not to think about the possibility that he’s angry enough with me to call off our deal—or that something else might have happened. I focus on one minute at a time. What’s right in front of me—the next pushup, the next routine, the next achievement. I keep going until I’m finished with my workout and I can go shower.
I go to bed early, not wanting to dwell on what happened this morning and Savio’s conspicuous absence all day. I sleep fitfully at first, drifting in and out, but when sleep finally takes me, I’m dragged down into a nightmare worse than any I’ve had in months.
I’m back at my old house, in my father’s mansion. I’m in his office, standing on the other side of his desk as he lectures me about my failure to keep Dimitri. About how I lost him to a nobody, a girl without money or influence, who can’t do the things for him that our family can. I hear myself explaining, over and over, how I tried my best. How he never wanted me. How I couldn’t even get him to go to bed with me, feeling my cheeks burn red at explaining that, of all things, to my father.
I hear the office door click open. I see my brother walking in, a smirk on his face. I see my father standing up, walking towards me, and I feel the sudden, hot crack of his palm against my cheek.
Maybe you need to be shown what men really want, Nicci. Maybe you need a different kind of lesson.
His hand on my wrist, yanking me down to my knees. My brother undoing his belt, his hand wrapping in my hair. The moment when I learned what it felt like to be completely, utterly helpless, when I realized that my life would only get worse from there.
The laughter rings in my ears, the sound of my brother’s muttered curse when I tried to bite him, the slap of my father’s palm against my cheek again, turning to fists when I tried to fight back. I hear myself crying, screaming—and then I jolt awake, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, my heart racing painfully as I hear the door burst open and I realize that I’m screaming aloud.
“What’s going on?” A voice I don’t recognize cuts through the air, a tall, bulky form rushing towards the bed, and I scramble back towards the headboard, letting out another panicked scream in my half-awake daze. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s one of the guards—the same one who leered at me this morning, and I shake my head rapidly, trying to speak, to tell him to get the fuck out. But I can’t speak. My throat feels closed over, my whole body shaking, taken over by the panic attack brought on by the dream.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
I’ve never been so glad to hear Savio’s voice. I see him rush into the room, another broad shape in the dim light—and in the back of my head, I realize that he looks more normal than I’ve ever seen him before. He’s wearing nothing but pajama bottoms low on his hips, shirtless, his hair messy with sleep, and I feel a jolt of desire despite myself, cutting through the fear.
“I heard her scream,” the guard explains. “Thought someone had broken in, maybe?—”
Savio looks at him with plain disgust. “Someone broke in where, exactly? Through the window of a penthouse bedroom? Or maybe this mystery person got through all four of you downstairs? In that case, I ought to fire all of you since you’re clearly not doing your job.”
“You said my job was to protect her, boss.” The guard looks clearly flustered. “She was screaming. I just came to see what was going on.”
“You’ve seen it. Now get the fuck out,” Savio snarls, striding past him towards where I’m crumpled on the bed. “Get out!”
The guard mumbles something that sounds like “yes, sir,” and flees the room. Savio comes around to the side of the bed that I’m on, sitting down next to me as he reaches for me.
It’s so startling that I let it happen. He puts an arm around me, drawing me into his chest, and I go. It’s what I need in this moment, and it doesn’t matter that it’s Savio, that it doesn’t make any sense, or that I should be pushing him away. He’s warm and strong, and he feels safe. I curl into his chest, breathing in his cedar scent—that warm, musky smell of masculine skin—and I feel him tuck his chin on top of my head, his hand stroking down my hair. “What happened?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I had a nightmare.” I linger against him for a moment longer, not wanting to pull away, knowing that I should. “I’m sorry.” I pull back, slipping out of his arms, and he lets me go, as if he’s also realized how strange this is.
“No need to apologize.” Savio looks at me, and I’m very aware of how close he is, how he’s half-dressed—and how skimpy the camisole and shorts that I wore to bed are. The nightmare still feels too close, and I’m torn between my body’s reaction to him and my utter disgust at the thought of being touched after the dream I just had. “Can you go back to sleep?”
I bite my lip. “I think so. I might go take a bath first. Maybe I can get back to sleep after that.”
Savio nods. I see him hesitate for a moment, like he doesn’t know what to do. Like the moment he comforted me was done on pure instinct, and now he’s unsure of how to proceed. “Do you—” He shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
He stands up abruptly, turning to go. I almost call out after him, a jolt of panic running through me at the thought of being left alone again, but I force it back.
“Can you—” I hesitate. “Can you ask the guards not to come into my room? Please?”
Savio stops, and in the light coming from the window, I think I see his jaw tighten. “He never should have come in here,” he says sharply. “It won’t happen again.”
I let out a breath, sitting motionless as I watch him go. I hear the door lock behind him, and for once, it makes me feel better. None of the guards have a key to my room, I’m sure, so it’s a relief to know they won’t be able to get in, even if I once again won’t be able to get out.
A part of me wishes Savio had stayed. I try not to think about it as I turn on all the lights and go to draw a bath, but my mind keeps drifting back to how it felt to have his arms around me, holding me close. No one has ever comforted me like that before. I can’t remember the last time someone held me. There was never any affection from my father growing up, and I don’t remember my mother. The men I dated were never the kind to show affection, either. I’ve been fucked countless times, but as I rack my brain, I can’t recall a hug. A gentle touch. A kiss that was for intimacy, and not purely arousal.
Not until tonight.
I swallow hard as I slide into the hot water, trying not to let myself read too much into it. Savio is hot and cold, and it’s tempting to let myself lean into the moments like yesterday— and tonight. The parts that make me feel safe. But in the end, none of that is real.
I slide deeper into the water, closing my eyes, trying to banish the pain that settles in my chest at that thought. He bought me, I remind myself. Any tenderness, any caring on his part, is like the caring someone would have for a pet. He’s even called me that, over and over again. His pet.
In the end, I think, as I let the water relax me, banishing the lingering fear from the nightmare, I’m going to leave. Nothing that happens between now and then matters.
And I’m going to put an end to Savio before I do.