Page 76 of Savage

“I don’t fucking care,” I snap at them. “Call my office and make an appointment during normal business hours. And find me her information.”

Shit. I need to calm down. I need to stay in control.

Giulio’s voice is a lot less amused when he answers. “Careful, buddy. I like you, and I treat my friends right. But being friends, that’s a mutual arrangement. And if you don’t want to offer me respect, well… Stef’s information isn’t the only thing I’ve got on you.”

It’s hard to remember sometimes that Giulio Pavone isn’t just the jester he pretends to be. He has no qualms about selling women, or drugs, or any other manner of illegal goods. The Pavones have been friends with my family for decades—and that friendship included their support in the Savage dynasty’s political ambitions.

Sometimes that support meant doing the dirty work that couldn’t be done openly.

I take a breath, and say, a lot more steadily, “Apologies. I’m currently under a lot of stress. I would… appreciate it… if you could find that information. And of course I’ll see Vanessa. I’ll tell the office staff to rearrange my calendar to fit you in.”

“That’s better. I’ll have somebody track down that wallet for you.”

“Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth.

Giulio ends the call, and I’m left with the quiet of the hospital room, just Stef’s labored breathing filling the silence.

For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do.

I can’t lose her though.

I won’t lose her.

CHAPTER 19

Stef

I wake up.

That in and of itself is an unpleasant surprise, and even in my half-conscious state, I know I shouldn’t have. I know I was desperate to stay asleep forever.

As I struggle to open my eyes, I see the reason why.

Dr. Hunter Savage.

My master.

My owner.

I have to blink a few times, because even though I see him, I don’t quite recognize him. I’ve never seen Hunter disheveled like this, looking badly like he needs a shower and a shave—and in a t-shirt and sweatpants?

I have to still be unconscious.

But why would I dream about him?

The steady sound of beeping finally infiltrates my awareness, and I realize that I’m in a hospital room. A glance down at my arm shows an IV in my vein—and not the kind I want to have in me. Everything is a little fuzzy, and while I know there should be pain, I can’t feel it.

I squeeze my eyes closed, not wanting to have to talk to him. With any luck, he won’t realize I’ve woken up at all.

But luck has never been on my side.

“Stef,” he whispers, reaching out for my hand. He strokes it surprisingly gently, and I open my eyes to look warily up at him. I try to shy away, but my entire body feels floaty and distant, and besides, wouldn’t he just get angrier at me for disobeying him like that?

I brace myself for his accusations. Trash, filth, idiot… whatever words he can find to remind me that I’m the lowest of the low.

For a long moment, all he does is stare at me.

Then, to my shock, he says, “I’m sorry.”

---