Page 46 of Owning Nicci

Something squeezes tightly in my chest as I stand there, waiting to see how this is all going to play out. I can’t recall a single time in all my life when someone has stood up for me.Defendedme. I know I should protest—tell Savio that there isn’t any reason to fire this poor woman just because she talked down to me, but I can’t speak. I’m too stunned by what’s happening.

“—I’m so sorry,” Marie says, her voice cutting back through the haze. “I’ll be happy to help you myself. Sara, go clock out and get your things. You’ll be paid your commissions up through today, but there’s no need for you to come back.”

“I—” Sara stares at her, her mouth dropping open. I look at Savio, feeling a wave of guilt that this is happening.

“Savio, she doesn’t need to be?—”

Savio gives me a sharp look, and I swallow hard, going quiet. Marie murmurs something about being right back, and I wait for her to escort Sara away before speaking again.

“You didn’t have to get her fired,” I whisper.

Savio looks at me narrowly. “Should I have let her speak to you that way? Insult you? Of course not.” His jaw tightens. “As long as you’re mine, Nicci, no one will ever speak to you that way again.”

I stare at him. Hearing that feels like a jolt straight to my heart, flooding me with a feeling I’ve never had before. I feel protected.Wanted. And I know that I’m probably reading into it, that there’s likely some selfish, ulterior motive for what he’s doing, based on everything that’s come before. But in this moment, I want to step forward into his arms and kiss him.

I don’t, though. I doubt he’d appreciate it, especially here. That’s not the relationship we have, and for the first time, I almost regret that things aren’t different between us.

They never will be.

Savio is still looking at me, his gaze intense, and I wish that I knew what he was thinking. I wish I couldask.

“Once again, I’msosorry about that.” Marie’s bright, too-chipper voice cuts through the air, and Savio turns abruptly away, the moment shattering. I feel grateful and bereft all at once, both glad to escape the moment of connection that I shouldn’t feel, and wanting it back.

Savio is true to his word, regarding the credit card. He doesn’t blink when I spend five figures at Dior, or when we visit three more stores after that, each one coming in at a similar total. When we pass La Perla, I hesitate, wanting to get silky pajamas like the ones I used to wear—something luxurious and elegant. But the idea of bringing Savio into a lingerie store with me feels strange. Never once has he hinted that he wants to see me in silk and lace for him—that feels like something a loverdoes, not a captor. He wants me naked, bound, vulnerable while he stays clothed. A place like that isn’t for us.

But I do miss nice sleepwear. And so I bite my lip and veer off into the store, fighting back the flush that I feel creeping up my cheeks as Savio follows me in.

I do my best to ignore him as I shop. I find bras and underwear, silky nightgowns and luxurious pajama sets, handing items to the sales associate that follows me as I go. With every item I hand over, I feel more and more like my old self. I’ve felt like this since Marie came back at Dior and started bringing me stacks of items to try on—more confident, more sure of myself, like my feet are on solid ground again. It’s a little shallow, maybe, but I’ve always loved fashion, and I used to feel like clothes were like armor to me. A way to express myself, when the rest of my life was completely outside of my control, for the most part.

I can’t stop myself from glancing over at Savio from time to time, out of the corner of my eye. I see him standing at a rack of lace corsets, nudging them aside as he looks through them, and I feel something warm and tight curl low in my belly, imagining him choosing one of those for me. I can almost feel his fingers running over my skin through the lace, the tactile sensation of it sending shivers down my spine, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m staring at him now. I look away just as he looks up, just in time for him to not catch me.

Fuck. I bite my lip, handing the sales associate another silky camisole and shorts set. I need to finish this. I need to be done with the Crows, done with my family, so I can get rid of Savio and leave Manhattan forever. The longer I’m with him, I’m realizing, the closer we’re getting. Things are changing between us, and that can’t happen.

Once again, Savio doesn’t blink at the total when all of the items are rung up. He just takes the bags from my hands,refusing to let me carry my own things, and we go back to the car. He deposits everything with the driver, then glances over at me.

“Let’s get dinner,” he says abruptly. “I’m hungry. I’m sure you are as well.”

I am. My stomach was growling all the way through lingerie shopping, but I didn’t want to say anything, unsure of whether or not I should test the limits of Savio’s generosity. I nod, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. This feels like a date—the kind of date I’d have loved for a man to take me on at any point in my life before. Shopping and having dinner out is an ideal day for me. But suddenly, the moment feels too intimate. I take a step back, swallowing hard.

“I’m hungry,” I admit. “But we can just go back if you have things you need to do?—”

“I’d rather go out.” Savio gestures for us to head back out to the street. “There’s a particularly good steakhouse here that I enjoy, and steak is always better fresh rather than ordered in. Let’s go.”

It’s a command, technically, but it lacks the usual weight. It feels more like a request, and I’m struck by that feeling that I’ve often had when we’re training together, or when we’ve gone after the Crows together, like the power balance has shifted. Like, for a moment, we’re equals.

Dinner is delicious. Savio orders a bottle of expensive red wine for us both, with oysters and caviar service for an appetizer, and I get the most heavenly filet that I’ve eaten in months, with a buttery crab bearnaise sauce and a salad.

“I looked into Vince,” Savio says, as he cuts into his own steak. “I think you were right, that it’s wise to go after him first. I think I have a lead.”

I press my lips together, trying to stop the laugh that’s on the verge of bubbling up. Savio must see the humor on my face because he looks at me curiously.

“What’s so funny,principessa?”

I hesitate. “It’s just—” I bite my lip, realizing that there’s genuine curiosity on Savio’s face. Like he really wants to know what I’m thinking. “We’re sitting here at this fancy restaurant, talking about what essentially amounts to a hit. Planning it out. It’s just so—it’s not what I ever pictured myself doing.” A small laugh bubbles up to my lips, and I see a smirk playing on Savio’s mouth.

“What did you see yourself doing,principessa?” he asks casually, taking another bite of his steak.

The question catches me off guard. “I—I don’t know,” I admit. “A lot of my life was decided for me, even before…” I break off, unwilling to discuss this with Savio, especially here. “Not so different from now, really,” I add, a slight bite to my tone. I wonder if he’ll call me out on it, but he doesn’t.

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