19. Savio
19
SAVIO
I wake the next morning with a fresh determination to focus on my own plan, my own goal—taking down Antony Gallo and replacing him as the new don of the Italian mafia in New York.
It’s clear that Nicci has been a roadblock rather than the outlet I expected her to be. I haven’t fucked her since the last time I took her to the playroom, and the past days have only muddied the waters between us. Those feelings of admiration that I’ve had for her, how impressed I’ve been by her strength and determination, have morphed into something else that’s confused and distracted me in ways I could never have seen coming.
I need to put a stop to it. Not by punishing her, or reminding myself of the nature of our relationship—I’ve tried that already, and it hasn’t worked. I need to put distance between us. As much as possible. I don’t trust anyone to take Nicci to the range—or for her to not try to overpower them and escape. So I simply decide to put our routine on hold, at least for a day or two. She’s already capable. I don’t think today’s lesson or tomorrow’s will make a difference when we go to hit the next Crow—and the distance will be good for me.
I have another meeting today, one with Dimitri Yashkov and Padraigh Gallagher. Padraigh’s right-hand man reached out to me two days ago to arrange it. It’s the first contact I’ve had with any of them since Padraigh suggested that my only option was to marry Estella Gallo, and I’m hopeful that he’s reconsidered his stance.
Still, I can’t ignore the possibility that it might be a trap. I opt to leave two of the four security guards at the penthouse for Nicci’s protection, one outside the front door and one inside the apartment, and take two of them with me. Two bodyguards likely won’t be much of a help if I am walking into a trap, but it’s better than nothing. And a slight show of force might give Dimitri and Padraigh a clearer idea that I’m serious.
The meeting is arranged at the same pub where I met Padraigh before. Two guards are stationed outside, and they eye my men as I walk up, but nod and let us through. Dimitri and Padraigh are sitting at a table near the back of the pub, and it’s pointedly empty, despite the afternoon hour. It’s clear that Padraigh closed and cleared the pub for this meeting.
“Savio.” Padraigh greets me with a smile, motioning me over to the table. “I’m glad you came.”
“It remains to be seen whether or not I’ll be glad I came.” I gesture to my men to hang back and take a seat. “What’s this about? Have you rethought what we talked about at our last meeting?”
Dimitri and Padraigh share a glance. “Have you thought about my suggestion that you marry the Gallo’s daughter?” Padraigh asks. “I’m sure that with the proper encouragement, he’d be open to the idea. Even with the past…bad blood with your family.”
“I did think about it.” That’s the truth, although I didn’t think for long. “I’ve put years of planning into this, Gallagher. My accomplishments should be enough to convince you, and you, Yashkov,” I add, looking at Dimitri. “Marriage should not be necessary. I’m not looking to become Gallo’s heir.”
“No, you’re looking to usurp him,” Dimitri says sharply. “And we won’t let that stand.”
Padraigh lets out a heavy sigh. “If you’re not open to marriage, Valenti, then there’s no way forward for you. Yashkov and I won’t back your play. And we’ve called you here today to warn you—because you approached us respectfully.”
I narrow my eyes. “Warn me?”
“Get out of the city, Valenti,” Dimitri says flatly. “We’ll give you a week to tie up your affairs. Two, at the most. But if you make any move against Gallo, or if you linger too long, we’ll be forced to do something about this situation.”
A sharp anger burns through me at that, but I stay calm. “And what is it that you’ll do, exactly?”
Padraigh gives me a long-suffering look. “I think you know the answer to that. Do we need to spell it out for you?”
“No.” I shake my head abruptly. “No, you don’t.”
“Good.” Padraigh sits back, satisfied. “It was a pleasure, Valenti. Safe travels.”
It’s my cue to leave. The meeting was abrupt, to the point, and didn’t go in the way I’d hoped in the slightest. My jaw tenses as I rise to leave. There’s no point in continuing to negotiate with the two of them; all of my efforts so far have fallen flat. The only way forward, as far as they’re concerned, is the bloodless and traditional way—which I find especially hypocritical in Dimitri’s case. He refused the marriage that his father arranged but sits idly by while Padraigh attempts to strong-arm me into the same thing.
I’m not going to do it. I’ll find some other way, though I’m not sure how. Assassinating Gallo might be a possibility—if I can hire someone good enough to do it quickly and quietly. But what then? Yashkov and Gallagher have made it clear that they don’t intend to back me. Would they still stick to that if Gallo was dead and I’d made my move to take his seat? Or would they have me killed and let Estella take over his empire?
I run a hand through my hair in frustration as I walk back to the car. It seems, after all of my work and careful planning, that I’m in the same position that my father and brother were—of needing to stage a coup if I want to take Gallo’s place. In the end, it’s come full circle, and I’m right back where we started.
I’ve taken the lives of two of Barca’s former men. I’ve taken the woman he claimed for his. But I feel hollow. There’s been no satisfaction in it, only a steadily growing feeling that I’m sinking into the same mire that took both him and my father. That I’ve tried to become something different, something more , and failed.
What if I just left? I consider it as I slide into the car and direct the driver to take me back to the penthouse. The stubborn, rebellious part of me wants to refuse the idea altogether. It’s what Dimitri just ordered me to do. I want to refuse, to dig my heels in and not be cowed by the demands of these men who believe that they’re owed their place in life purely by virtue of their name. But then what? Am I just as foolish as my father and Barca were?
I clench my jaw, rubbing my hand over my mouth. I don’t know. I don’t know what I should do. But I do know that Nicci and I have another hit tonight, that we’re supposed to be going after Vince. I know where he lives, in a shitty neighborhood in a bad part of Harlem, and it should be easy enough to nail him there. We’ll need plenty of firepower—Vince is a former enforcer, which means he’ll be no slouch to kill, and I feel a flicker of worry at the thought of bringing Nicci into that situation.
But it’s what she wants. It’s what I’ve put her through all the endless training for. And at the end of the day, I shouldn’t care. What does it matter to me if she’s hurt or killed on this job? The only reason it should bother me is if I haven’t gotten my fill of her. And while it doesn’t feel as if I have, maybe I should. It might be better for me not to touch her again. I’ve enjoyed her, I’ve played with her, I’ve fucked her. What else is there, really?
I resolve not to go and talk to her or see her once I get back to the penthouse. The guards are capable of bringing her meals, and I have other things to focus on. She’s consumed too much of my thoughts, and I’ll see her tonight, when we go after the Crow.
And it won’t go the way it did last time. I won’t lose control.
The last thing I need to be thinking about is Nicci. What I need to be focused on is how I’m going to keep years' worth of planning and ambition from going up in smoke.
That resolve lasts just as long as it takes me to get into the penthouse and up the stairs to the second floor.
The first thing I notice is that the second guard is nowhere to be seen. The man I left stationed at the front door was still there, and I left one of the two men I took with me to join him just now, ordering the other to stay downstairs and keep an eye on things. But I don’t see the other guard that I left to watch the interior of the penthouse while I was gone.
I stalk up the stairs, thinking maybe he’s doing his rounds up there. And then I hear Nicci’s voice, high and breathy, coming from her bedroom. It sounds like a panicked whimper, and my mind goes blank, my entire body operating on pure instinct as I grab the doorknob and twist it.
It’s unlocked. None of the guards have a key—I only give them one if they’re taking Nicci her meals, and then I take it back. Which means someone went into my bedroom and stole the key from there.
I can hear my heartbeat roaring in my ears as I throw the door open. It slams into the opposite wall, and I hear Nicci cry out, at the same moment that I see what’s happening inside the room.
The guard that I’d left to monitor the inside of the house—a tall, broad man with close-cropped dark hair—has Nicci cornered against the desk. She’s gripping the edge of it, trying to twist away from him, and his head comes up from where it was buried against her neck the instant he hears the sound of me barging into the room.
If there was any remaining question of what was happening here, it’s gone the instant I see the fear and guilt in his face. He stiffens, on the verge of lurching back, and I see his mouth open as if to offer an excuse.
I act on pure instinct. Before the thought of what I’m going to do about it even fully enters my mind, my gun is in my hand, pointed at him. My finger curls around the trigger, and I hear the crack of the gun as if it’s coming from somewhere else, as if I’m watching this happen out of my own body as I shoot him right through his open, lying mouth.
The man staggers backwards, blood splattered on the dresser behind him, and crashes to the floor.
Nicci lets out a shuddering sob and drops to her knees. I shove the gun back into the holster in my jacket, rushing over to her, and I hear the sound of boots on the stairs a moment later, as the other guard that I left downstairs bolts into the room.
“What’s happened, boss—” he freezes, the words dying on his lips as he sees his coworker dead and bleeding on the floor.
“What’s happened,” I growl out from between clenched teeth, “is that he was fucking touching something that belongs to me. My fucking woman. Do you understand? If any one of you so much as looks at her again, I’ll blow your brains out too. Fucking got it?”
The man has gone bone white. He nods, speechless, and I sweep Nicci into my arms, picking her up as I push past him. “Fucking clean it up,” I snarl, and carry her down the hall to my room.
Nicci is shaking like a leaf. I carry her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me, and I set her down on the bed. Tears are streaming down her face, and she looks up at me, her mouth trembling. “You—you killed him,” she whispers, and I lean down, sinking to my knees next to her as I look her over for injuries.
“What, are you going to tell me I shouldn’t have fucking done that?” I glare at her, tipping her chin up. There’s a mark on her throat where his mouth was just before I burst in, but I don’t see any physical injuries. “He was touching you. No one fucking touches you but me, principessa ?—”
“No.” She shakes her head, swallowing hard. Her voice is still shaking. “I’m glad you killed him. He—he was going to?—”
“I know what he was going to do.” I smooth her hair back away from her face, and her lips tremble again.
“I can’t believe you protected me,” she whispers. “You hate me. You threw me out the other morning…I thought you might just give me to them. I thought?—”
“Why the fuck would you think that?” I reach for her, pulling her down onto the floor with me, into my lap. My hands smooth through her hair, tipping her delicate face up so that she’s looking at me. “You belong to me, remember? Why the fuck would I let any of them touch you?”
“If you’re done with me—” She bites her lip, hard. “That’s what Barca would have done.”
“I’m not my fucking brother.” As I say it, Nicci looks away, and I grasp her chin between my fingers, turning her face back to mine. “I’m not him.”
“Aren’t you?” She looks up at me. “You own me. Punish me. I’m yours . You say it all the time. You use me however you please. How are you different from any of them?”
My jaw clenches. “Any of who , Nicci? Who else has hurt you?” I look down at her, feeling my heart pound in my ears. “Who was that nightmare about?”
Tears are welling in her eyes, and I can feel her starting to shake again. She starts to cry, her entire body trembling as sobs spill from her lips, and I know she’s on the verge of falling apart completely. Since the morning she woke up here in my penthouse, she’s been resilient, tough, stubborn—more so than any woman I’ve ever known. She’s refused to let anything break her. But I can see that she’s breaking apart now, and my chest tightens, a desire to piece her back together swelling in me that I try hard to fight back.
She might belong to me, but she’s not mine in that way. I’m not going to be the one to make her whole again, if anyone can. I’m not capable of it, any more than she’s capable of making me into the kind of man someone can love.
“My father sold me to you as a punishment,” she whispers brokenly. “And you bought me so that you could take out all your pain on me. That’s all I’m good for any longer, to be a punching bag for everyone else. And why not? I’m the villain too, right? I tried to help have Evelyn killed. I helped your brother plot against her and Dimitri, tried to facilitate her death. So I deserve all of it, right?”
I frown at her as the words spill out between sobs. “Why did you do it?” I look at her curiously. “Did you hate Dimitri that much for breaking off the engagement? Or was it that you wanted my brother?” My stomach curdles as I say that last—the thought of her wanting Barca making me feel sick. The thought of her panting, begging for my brother’s touch the way she begged for mine in the car.
“No!” Another sob spills from Nicci’s lips. “I didn’t want any of it. I wanted Dimitri, I thought. I was disappointed when he broke things off between us. But my father was furious.” She wipes a hand across her face, taking a shuddering breath as she tries to stop crying. But it sounds as if she can’t. As if it’s impossible for her to keep in any longer. “He called me into his office and berated me. Hit me. When my brother came in, he made me get on my knees for him while my father watched, told me that he’d show me how to keep a man. When he was finished?—”
She sobs again, her shoulders curling inwards, and my jaw tightens until I think a tooth might crack. I want to leave her here, right now, go to the Armand mansion, and kill them both. Not quickly, like I just killed the guard, but slowly. I want to take them apart piece by piece.
“My father told me,” she whispers brokenly, “about his plan with Barca. About how I’d be given to Barca as an incentive. That it was my job to keep him happy, and help him get Evelyn. That if I succeeded, Dimitri would still marry me. I didn’t even want him by then,” she gasps, running her hand over her face again. “I wanted things to work out between us—before. But if Dimitri didn’t want me, if he was in love with someone else, then I didn’t want him. I didn’t want to marry someone who hated me, and definitely not someone grieving the woman he loved. Especially if he ever found out?—”
“So why the fuck did you do it?” I look at her, and she narrows her eyes, jerking out of my grasp. She squirms out of my lap, and I let her go, seeing the creases of anger around her eyes as she pushes herself up to sit on the bed.
“Fucking men,” she spits. “You think—what? That I could just say no and leave? That my father wouldn’t have come after me? That he would have just let me go?” She shakes her head, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks. “I had to do it. He told me that if I didn’t, it wouldn’t just be my brother that I’d be forced to please, it would be him, too. That he’d beat me black and blue while my brother had me and then take me for himself. He promised—” Another shaky sob spills from her lips. “He promised my brother wouldn’t touch me again, if I went along with it. That no one else would hurt me. I had to let Barca do as he pleased and make sure Evelyn was killed, so that Dimitri would fall in line with my father’s plans. And then I’d be Dimitri’s, and I’d be safe. He wouldn’t love me, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He wasn’t the type.” She swallows hard, curling in on herself as she wraps her arms around her stomach.
My jaw is clenched so tightly that it hurts, sparks of pain shooting through my skull. My hands are curled into fists, every muscle in my body locked up. I can’t recall ever being so angry. What she’s telling me about is the worst kind of abuse, monstrous and depraved, and I’m furious that I ever did business with her father. That I ever had a hand in any of this. Guilt sweeps through me in a heavy wave, and I reach for her, but she jerks away.
“I failed, of course,” she says dully. “It didn’t matter that I did everything Barca asked. I let him do what he pleased. I never talked back or fought. I went along with it all, but Dimitri got Evelyn back and killed him. So I went back to my father. I failed. And he did everything that he’d promised he’d do if I failed.” Her face is pale, and she’s shaking, her voice choked. “He gave me to my brother for a week. Then they both used me—I don’t know how long. A few days, I guess. I was black and blue by the time they were done, completely broken. And he sent me to the club, after that. I was a prisoner—or might as well have been.” She shoots me a look that cuts me straight to the bone. “Just like here. I went to the club, and I was brought straight back to the mansion. I wasn’t allowed to leave—not until he sold me to you.”
She looks broken. Defeated. This woman that I thought was unbreakable looks as if she’s shattering into a million pieces, and I know she wants no part of my comfort or touch. I want to ask her about the bruises I saw when I first stripped her naked here—a memory that now makes my stomach twist with guilt—but I don’t. She didn’t need to answer anything else, not right now. And I can guess at where they came from.
“They’re dead men,” I murmur. Her head shoots up, and she looks at me, her gaze empty as her eyes lock with mine. “Dead men walking,” I repeat. “I’ll kill them both, principessa . For what they did to you. It’s unconscionable. If I’d known?—”
“What?” She laughs. “You wouldn’t have bought me? Don’t be ridiculous, Savio.” Her gaze sparks, and I can tell she’s defying me, daring me to punish her for talking to me this way. But I’m not going to, and I think she knows it. We’re past that now. Even as a game, the desire to hurt her in any way has died. I feel like a monster myself for ever having wanted it in the past. “You had your own reasons for using me. You would have done it anyway.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t have. Not if I’d known.”
I believe that I’m telling the truth, but I can see that she doesn’t. “I’ll make sure they both die for what they’ve done,” I promise her again, and her jaw tightens.
“No, Savio.” Her voice is flat, now, the tears controlled. Her hands clutch the side of the bed, her nails digging into the mattress as she glares at me. “That’s not the deal. We ’ ll make sure they’re both dead. I’m a part of this, remember? The Crows were only the first step. My father and brother are the end goal. And you’re not leaving me out of it.”
“We need to figure out our next move.” I stand up, extending a hand to her. “Come on. You’re going to pack, and we’re getting out of here. I’m taking you somewhere else, somewhere safe, until we can decide how to move forward with this. It’s getting too dangerous?—”
Her eyes glitter, and she shakes her head, not moving an inch. I can see, in that moment, that all pretense of her submitting to me is gone. She’s the woman I’ve seen every day we’ve trained again—implacable, unbreakable, and utterly stubborn.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”