Page 7 of Savage

I cry myself into an uneasy sleep, which passes some of the time, but I jolt awake when the car comes to a final stop and someone comes to unlatch the trunk.

It’s the doctor. He sneers at me when he sees me, and I cringe. If he doesn’t like me, why did he buy me?

“Remove the ankle chains. I’m not going to carry her,” Savage orders.

Ben enters my line of sight and shrugs. “Sure. Stef, you’ll behave for him, right?” He’s already reaching into the trunk to unlock the manacles around my ankles.

I could run now. I don’t know where we are, but there are probably cameras—there’s no place in New Bristol that is safe from cameras. If somebody notices, maybe they’ll call the cops… I nearly laugh at myself because I know what the cops are like here. Even if they did show up, they’d probably go away after a bribe.

After a taste.

“I’ll behave,” I whisper. I wish I’d thought to beg Donny for a hit before we’d left, to make all of this easier to handle. I remember the way Savage had looked at my arms, though, and I know it’s too late to ask for any sort of fix.

Dread starts to rise up within me. What if he doesn’t intend on giving me anything at all? What if he’s going to just make me stop, and cold turkey at that? I can’t bring myself to look at any of them, even as Ben leans down to unfasten the ankle cuffs.

Ben lifts me out and sets me on cold concrete. We’re in a parking lot, and the lack of heating is already getting to me. I shiver and pull my arms closer to myself.

Savage makes a noise and holds up a large coat. “Stand still.” He wraps it around my shoulders and fastens it in the front, so my arms are now trapped against my chest—but I’m warmer, and I’m no longer as exposed.

He wraps one arm around my shoulders. “Walk calmly and quietly,” he hisses at me, “or I’ll tell Giulio I don’t have need for you after all.”

As little as I want this, I want to experience Giulio’s wrath even less. I nod to him, blinking back tears all over again. “Yes, sir,” I mumble.

Nobody says anything else. I hear the car doors slam shut, and it drives off while Savage leads me toward an elevator. Savage doesn’t speak at all while the elevator takes us up, and up, and even higher up.

Finally, at floor 45, the doors open up into a hallway. I follow Savage out and wait as he unlocks one of the two doors on this floor. Once the door is open, Savage pushes me inside.

My eyes widen as I try to take it all in. The expensive furniture. The lamps that look like they’re made of crystal. The white sofa that has to be leather. A dining table big enough for twelve people.

Savage keeps moving though, not allowing me to get a good look at any one thing. He pushes me through another door, one with a heavy keypad on the front.

My breath hitches, and I stare at it. The fear that’s been at bay for so long threatens to overwhelm me, and I whimper. Locked rooms are never a good thing, especially when I’ve just been… purchased. Is he going to just dump me in here and leave me alone? Why would he buy me if that was the case, though?

Savage takes the coat off of me and tosses it back out into the hall. Without saying anything, he lifts my wrists to remove the cuffs. They’ve left a faint imprint, even though I didn’t struggle.

“Strip,” he orders. “You’re filthy.”

My cheeks heat up. I’m not wearing much, but the nightgown shields me from some of his critical stare. I still remember the way he’d first looked at me, all arrogant and derisive like I was something under his shoe, and it doesn’t look like that has changed a bit. I pull off the nightgown, shivering as I stand there before his gaze, and I look down at the floor.

Savage pushes another door open, revealing a bathroom. It’s gleaming white, with no decor at all. There’s nothing extraneous inside, only soap, towels, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. Savage takes my wrist and pulls me inside.

The lights are harsh and make me appear even bonier in the mirror. I startle a little when I see myself, though. Ntimacy had mirrors, but none this clean, and usually I only looked at myself long enough to apply makeup. Without the clothes or the makeup, my face is gaunt, my eyes sunken. I look like I haven’t slept in weeks. The bruising on my arm contrasts starkly with my pale skin. My shoulder-length blond hair is limp and disheveled.

No wonder Savage judged me so harshly. It doesn’t explain why he decided to buy me, though. I wouldn’t want to own someone who looks like I do.

Savage goes over to the shower and turns on the water. “Get in there. There’s soap and shampoo. I assume you know how to use those?”

My pride has already suffered several massive blows over the past few months—the past few years, really—but this seems like an especially heavy hit. “Yes,” I say quietly. I shower thoroughly every day at least once, but the toiletries at Ntimacy aren’t fancy. I don’t try to explain or make excuses. Instead, I go to the shower and climb in, shivering as cold water hits my skin. It warms quickly, though, which is something I’m not quite used to, and I make a soft sound of surprise. It feels so good.

“Wash all over,” Savage orders, watching me through the glass shower doors. “Especially your cunt. I saw how it looked the other day.”

It would be easier if his gaze was hungry, if he was interested. But his dismissal of me, the way he treats me like I’m nothing… It’s difficult not to cry all over again.

Crybaby Stef, I can practically hear Traci’s voice in my mind.

But Giulio did say Savage likes tears. Maybe if I cried, he’d be a little nicer to me.

I don’t, though—not yet, at least. Instead, I allow myself to enjoy the hot water as I shower, making sure to scrub myself thoroughly. I take my time with the shampoo and conditioner, too, and marvel at how it makes my hair feel after.

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