Owning Nicci

24. Nicci

24

NICCI

T he ride back to the city is silent for us both.

I didn’t sleep well last night, and if I had to guess, neither did Savio. I could feel the reluctance in him when we packed this morning, like the time at the cabin was a vacation that neither of us wanted to leave behind. But vacations have to end, and so did the fantasy that we spun for ourselves in the brief time we were there.

What shocked me the most was that he didn’t touch me at all. Not once, although I know he wanted me. I saw it. But he held back, and I wonder if that will be true when we get back to the penthouse—or if he’ll fall into old habits.

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself, staring out of the window as we approach the city. Soon, none of this will matter. Whether Savio decides to fuck me again or not, the plan is the plan. Nothing has changed.

We’re hitting Francis and Martin’s restaurant tonight, and that’s where my focus needs to be.

It’s brought back into sharp relief when we arrive back at the penthouse. The security is still there, minus the guard Savio shot on my behalf, who has been replaced with another man—the same bulky, muscled sort of guy with a crew cut who looks like he was picked out of a Bodyguards-R-Us catalog.

Just as I thought it would—as I feared it would, if I’m being honest with myself—the feeling that was there between Savio and me in the cabin, that feeling of quiet, safe domesticity, flees, leaving only a tense anxiety. How could it not? Here in his penthouse, there are all the reminders of how this began and how I plan for it to end. The perfect, pristine apartment, the security guards, and the familiar sight of the room I stayed in since I first woke up here all sharply remind me of the fact that up until very recently, I was Savio’s prisoner. Whatever has changed since then, it hasn’t changed what he did.

Just because I understand why, now, doesn’t change it either.

Savio takes me back up to my former room, and I try to ignore the pang that I feel in my chest at the thought of sleeping alone again. It’s not rejection, I remind myself. We slept in the same bed at the cabin because it was that, or take the floor or the couch, and neither of us was willing to do that—not because we wanted to share a bed.

I try not to think about how it felt having him next to me. How good it felt to have a warm, solid body sleeping next to mine for the first time in my life. How many times I woke up and wanted to roll closer, to find out what that body would feel like curled up against mine.

“The door won’t be locked,” Savio says abruptly, his voice taut. It almost sounds as if he’s struggling with coming back, too, although I can’t imagine that’s true. He might not hate me the way he once did, but I’m still a possession, something that he spent an astronomical amount of money for, an investment that he needs a return on. Four days at a cabin doesn’t change that.

“I’m trusting you won’t leave the penthouse, principessa ,” he adds. “For your own safety, if nothing else. But the rules from before—” He shakes his head. “You can do what you like here, now. Move around the house as you please, use the kitchen, watch TV.—” He shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Are you still going to cook?” The question sounds stupid as soon as I ask it, and I wish I could take it back. I meant it as a joke, but said aloud, all I can think is that it sounds pathetic. Like I’m begging for something that was never actually real.

Savio chuckles dryly. “No. But don’t worry, you’ll still be fed.” He drops my bag on the floor next to the bed, turning away. “Enjoy being back in luxury, principessa . And feel free to lock the door from the inside at night,” he adds. “If you want to. If it makes you feel safer from the guards.”

And from you. I don’t say it aloud, just nodding my assent as I watch him leave. That hollow feeling in my chest remains, and I try to shake it off, focusing instead on unpacking and thinking about the job we’ll do tonight—the last of the Crows. The end of the first part of Savio’s and my deal, and the beginning of the other part.

Anticipation rolls through me at the thought of finally, finally taking the revenge that matters the most to me. I’m not sure yet how we’ll get to my father or my brother, but we’ll figure it out. Savio has been able to track the others down so far, find inroads to get to them, and I’m sure he’ll do the same for my family.

And then we’ll finish them off, once and for all.

I lie down atop the made bed, grabbing a throw blanket and pulling it over myself. It’s luxuriously soft, made of cashmere, nothing like the rustic textiles back at the cabin. But still, I find myself missing the scent of cedar and pine, the way it reminded me of how Savio smells, and the weight of him in the bed next to me.

—

I wake up a few hours before we’re supposed to leave. Dinner is waiting for me on the desk, like it always has been before, and I feel another sharp pang, remembering Savio and me eating together at the cabin. That too seems like it was a part of the irrational fantasy that we were living in for a few days.

I nibble at the food, thinking about the job ahead of us. Savio will be up soon to come and get me. I finish my food before changing into black jeans and a t-shirt, with my black hoodie thrown over it. I’m pulling on my boots when I hear a knock at the door, and it startles me.

“Nicci?” Savio’s voice comes from the other side, and I frown. He’s never bothered to knock before.

“Come in?” I’m sure he can hear the confusion in my voice. When he steps into the room, I look at him quizzically. “You knocked ?”

He frowns. “I was trying to be polite. Are you ready to go? The weapons are downstairs. We’ll suit up and then leave.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. I’d stopped thinking about how different things felt, how I’m more off-balance with him than ever, and then he fucking knocked before coming into the room. “Is that a habit of yours now? Knocking before you come to collect your possessions?”

Savio’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t take the bait. He just steps to one side so that I can leave the room, before following me down the stairs to where the guns, knives, and ammo are laid out on the counter.

I quickly take two of the clips, stashing them in my pockets, and slide the gun into the holster under my hoodie. When I look up, I catch Savio looking at me appraisingly, clear approval on his face. “What?” I ask, more snappishly than need be, but his new attitude is throwing me off. Back at the cabin, everything was different, but here, this more human side of him feels more blatantly out of place.

So what? Do I want him to go back to forcing me to my knees and making me crawl for him? Oblige his every whim and call him ‘sir’ and ‘master’?

Of course not, I think irritably, picking up a knife. But the more human he becomes, the more I see the sides of him that I like. The more he treats me like a partner and not a possession, the harder it is to remember that nothing, for me, has really changed.

I take a deep breath, sliding the knife into the sheath on my thigh. Having the weapons has started to feel like a comfort. It was awkward and difficult when I first started to train with Savio, but like so much else, it’s changed. Now, I feel stronger with them. More powerful. Capable of using them to protect myself and put an end to the men who have hurt me.

“I have someone watching the restaurant,” Savio says, holstering his gun under his jacket. “It closed a few minutes ago, and the last of the customers are leaving. Francis and Martin are both there, no backup. We should be clear to leave and head that way—by the time we get there, it will be just the two of them.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Same as the last job, principessa . We go in together, we take them out. No games, no seduction. We’re not doing that any longer.”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” I pull the black beanie over my head, tucking my blonde hair underneath it. “It’s not a game I want to play anymore, anyway.”

“Good.” Savio’s gaze holds mine for a moment, and I can’t quite read what’s there—if he’s glad because he simply doesn’t want to share what belongs to him, even as a game…or if there’s something more to it.

I don’t want there to be more to it. If I matter to him as more than a possession, then it complicates everything. So long as I mean nothing to him beyond the cold, calculating purpose that he bought me for in the first place, then I don’t have to think about whether my plans are right or wrong. He’s meant to be lumped in with all of the others who hurt me, and I don’t want this to be complicated. I don’t want to feel anything for him.

“Let’s go.” I look at him, hoping that he doesn’t see any of what I’m thinking in my face. Savio nods, and we both head out, down to the waiting car.

The restaurant in question is a tiny Italian place in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s incredibly stereotypical for a man who used to work for the son of an Italian capo—but who knows? Maybe the food actually is excellent. It’s closed, the main dining room dark with the blinds pulled down, and the only light is coming from a back door that must lead to an office. The driver parks around back in the shadows, near a back fence, and Savio and I slip out of the car.

We work well together. A fucking modern-day Bonnie and Clyde , I think bitterly, as we move in sync through the shadows of the parking lot, towards the back door of the restaurant. I can still smell the hint of spices and fried food hanging in the air, and despite the meal I ate earlier, my stomach rumbles a little. It smells good.

Savio smirks. “Want me to take you to dinner after?” he murmurs in a hushed tone, and I glare at him, drawing my finger across my lips to tell him to shut up. We’ve come this far, I’m not about to fuck this up now. Especially not for a quip from a man who shouldn’t be talking to me like that. That’s not our relationship, I want to hiss back. You can’t change it now, just because you think you know me. But I keep my mouth shut, lips pressed tightly together as we approach the back of the restaurant, and Savio lets me go first. Another surprise.

The door isn’t locked, likely because they’re still finishing up tasks for the evening. I whisper a silent prayer in my head that everyone, other than Francis and Martin, really is gone. I don’t want there to be collateral damage from this. I don’t want to have to shoot a cook or a lingering server because they’ve seen us. But Savio’s man said it was all clear, and I have to trust that’s the case.

Carefully, I pull the back door open, craning my neck to get a glimpse of what’s past it. There’s a long hallway leading back to the kitchen, with a door immediately to the right, a meat freezer past that, and then the opening that I suspect leads to the servers’ hallway and out into the restaurant itself. The door to the right is probably the office.

Motioning to Savio, I slip into the hallway, my hand ready to go for my gun at the slightest movement from anywhere else. I move closer to the closed door, and I can hear men’s voices on the other side, discussing the books. Two of them.

Savio slips in behind me. I nod, gesturing to the door and miming ‘two’ with my fingers, and then I step forward, waiting for his assent before I go for the knob.

He nods, and I twist the door open and pull.

It takes a second for Francis and Martin to realize what’s happening. They’re bent over a ledger and calculator, and I’m in the room with Savio behind me, my gun in my hand and the safety clicked off just as Francis looks up, his face draining bone-white.

“What the fuck?—”

“Just taking out the trash. Tell Barca that Nicci said I hope he’s getting fucked in hell.”

I pull the trigger. Out of the corner of my eye, I hear Martin shout and see him scrambling to his feet, his hand going for something. “Savio!” I snap, and I feel him push past me as Francis’ body slides to the floor, blood pouring from the wound in his head. I hear the sound of his gun going off, the sharp crack hurting my ears even with the silencer. At the same moment, I see the flash of something black out of the corner of my eye—as another gunshot goes off.

Blinding pain tears through me, originating from my shoulder. I’ve never felt pain like it before. It’s bright, hot, consuming every thought and making my fingers go nerveless. I feel my gun drop from my hand as I crumple, my other shoulder striking an office chair as I go down to the tile floor. Distantly, I think I hear Savio shout my name, hear another gunshot, and I see Martin hit the floor through blurry vision.

But I can’t think. Can’t fully make sense of any of this. I thought I’d known pain before, but nothing could possibly compare to this. It takes over everything until it feels like it’s all I can do just to keep breathing.

My vision is blurry. Savio is leaning over me, saying my name, picking me up. I can’t respond. I can’t form words or even think of what I would say. Instead, I can only let him pick me up, curling in on myself as the pain rips through me, tears spilling down my cheeks.

I had no idea getting shot would hurt this badly. I can live through a shoulder wound, right? I haven’t come this far for it to end here before I get a chance to make my father pay for all he’s done. My brother, too.

Fighting for breath, I make it until Savio puts me into the car, before blessed darkness pulls me under, and the pain is momentarily gone.

—

I’m not sure how many times I go in and out. I’m aware, at one point, of being in a hospital room. I hear a nurse tell Savio that he has to leave, hear him roar that he’s not going anywhere, not until he knows if I’m going to be alright. I hear her ask what his relationship is to the patient, and somewhere in the back of my head, I want to laugh as I wait for his answer.

Owner? Master? Which one are you going to say aloud?

“I’m her…partner,” Savio says, finally, his voice thick. Something jolts in my chest at the sound of it, another pain to add to the hot wave of it throbbing through me, and I let myself slip under again.

The next time I wake up, it’s just for a moment, to bright lights, as I’m taken into surgery, before the anesthesia takes me out again. And then in the recovery room, blurry and sore, wondering if Savio is going to come get me.

He arrives a little while later, after I’ve been taken back to my hospital room. He’s in one of his Armani suits, dressed impeccably, and he stands out in the cold, sterile hospital environment. I remember thinking, what feels like a long time ago now in that back room at the Gilded Lily, that he’d stand out anywhere.

I still think that’s true.

“Seems like I made it,” I croak, and Savio’s face softens. He walks to my bedside, reaching up to brush a piece of hair away from my face, and I turn my face away.

He swallows hard and steps back. “The doctors said you’ll be fine. You’ll need some physical therapy for the shoulder injury, but you should recover without too much trouble beyond that.”

“Francis and Martin?” I turn to look at him, and Savio nods.

“Both dead,” he says quietly, low enough for no one else to hear. “You got Francis, and I got Martin. I’m sorry—” His voice catches. “I’m sorry I didn’t get him fast enough. This is my fault, principessa . All of it.”

“I knew there was a risk. Four of us in that small room? Something was going to get fucked up.” I bite my lip, wincing as I try to shift a little, testing my shoulder. It’s still very painful. “I’ll live, clearly. Are there any issues with the hospital? Since I came in with a gunshot wound?”

Savio shakes his head. “I’ve taken care of it. Money and the right names dropped at the right time can cover up anything, principessa . There won’t be any questions.”

I nod, leaning back into the pillows. Exhaustion sweeps over me, and I briefly close my eyes before opening them again. “My father and brother are next. We need to?—”

“We need to take a break,” Savio says firmly. “You need to recover. I’m taking you to?—”

“Like fuck we’re going to take a break!” I shove myself up, instantly regretting it as pain shoots through my shoulder and chest. “This was the whole point , Savio! You think I’m just going to lie here and?—”

“Look at you, principessa .” He shakes his head. “You’re in no state to go after anyone. You need to rest. We’re going back to the cabin. You can recover there?—”

“We’re not going back to the penthouse?” I frown at him, confused, and Savio sighs.

“I was in a rush to get you to the hospital. There was a lot of blood—I was afraid of where he might have hit you. I didn’t call the cleaners soon enough. They got there before the cops, but they only managed to clean up part of the scene before they had to leave. I’m not sure what the police might have collected. I’ll need to pay some bribes and make sure it’s covered up. Until then, we both need to be out of the city.” He glances toward the curtain blocking off my room, and I see a hint of nervousness in his face. “The nurses are getting your discharge paperwork now. They wanted to keep you another night, but I think we need to go.”

The urgency in his voice keeps me from arguing any further. I nod, sinking back further into the pillows, as Savio goes to see where the nurses are.

As much as I hate to admit it, by the time I’m in the car, I know Savio is right. Just the effort of getting into the wheelchair and being taken down to the parking garage— and then having Savio help me into the car—has me breathing hard and tired. My head slumping against the window as Savio follows me in.

I’m going to need time to recover before I can do much of anything.