Page 7 of Owning Nicci

I’m going to take it, all the same.

I head to the Gilded Lily, anticipation buzzing in my veins. When I walk in, the too-loud music assaults my senses. I’m both gratified and irritated to see Nicci out on the floor, grinding on the lap of a man wearing a baseball cap backwards and a thin mustache, his clothes too big for him. I’m glad that she’s not in the back room with someone—I’m not sure if I’d be able to keep from killing any man who I caught fucking her tonight. But I’m irritated to see her preoccupied with someone else at all, as if she should have somehow known that I was coming for her—and should have been waiting.

Ignoring all else, I stride towards the table, where just the one man is sitting as Nicci bounces on his lap, cooing something in his ear. As soon as I reach them, I wrap my hand around Nicci’s arm, pulling her off of the man’s lap and towards me.

She lets out a startled yelp of surprise, teetering in her heels as she nearly crashes into my chest. For a moment, I’m overwhelmed with the scent of faux apple and sugar—a stomach-turning smell—and yet I’m flooded with the desire to pull her closer to me, to feel her slender body pressed fully against mine.

“What the fuck?” Nicci tries to twist away from me at the same time that the man she was grinding on echoes the sentiment. He starts to get up, and I hold up a hand, a silent command for him to remain where he is.

He gives me a belligerent look, and I reach into my pocket, pulling out my billfold. I take out three hundred-dollar bills—pocket change, as far as I’m concerned—and throw them onto the table in front of him.

“Pick another girl,” I tell him flatly. “Any one of these whores ought to do. This one is mine.”

Nicci squeals in protest, yanking at my grip again. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she snaps—then her face pales as she realizes that she’s talked back to me in front of not onlyme, but another customer. She swallows hard, and I see the resentment written clearly across her face as she apologizes.

“I’m sorry.” She tilts her chin up. “What do you want?”

“Take me to the back.” I let go of her, and she shoots the other man a pleading look, as if begging him either to intervene or not say anything. Neither of those things will happen, I think—he’s stuffing the bills into his shirt pocket and already looking for a different girl. Nicci seems to realize there’s no help for her situation and stiffens her shoulders, walking as quickly as she can in those ridiculous heels as she leads me towards the back room.

This time, I pay the kid at the door. I don’t want to waste time, so I hand him a folded hundred-dollar bill, giving him a look that dares him to try to protest and cheat me out of another hundred.

He lets me through, and I follow Nicci into the room, closing the door firmly behind me. She looks at me with narrowed eyes, and I see that the spark of a fight is still in her.

“Something you want to say,principessa?” I ask with a smirk, and her jaw tightens.

“What do you want?” she bites out. “And don’t sayme. You can’t possibly be throwing money around like this just to watch me dance for you. You could do that out there.” She jabs a finger towards the door. “Are you a spy for my father? Are you supposed to report back to him if I’m doing my job well enough? Is that why you watched me suck that guy’s dick last night—soyou could go back to my father and let him know I swallowed it all like a good girl?” She spits the last words out, and despite myself, I’m faintly impressed with her backbone.

“Surprising that you’d talk to me that way if you think I’m supposed to observe you and report back,” I retort, and I see the flicker of fear in her eyes. She’s worried about exactly that, and yet, for some reason, she can’t bite her tongue around me. Excitement curls through my veins at that thought. If she can’t control herself, she’s going to invite punishment, and I’m going to enjoy teaching her every lesson.

“I told you the truth,” I tell her simply. “I want you. And you’re coming with me tonight,principessa.”

She balks at that, physically flinching back. “No,” she spits out. “I have to do a lot of shit here, but I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to leave with customers. You take what you want here, or you don’t—but I’m not going anywhere with you?—”

“I’m not a customer.” I cut her off.

She stiffens. “Then who are you?”

I shift, making sure to stand in front of the door so that she can’t make a break for it. “My name is Savio Valenti.”

Recognition flares instantly in her eyes. All of the blood drains out of her face until her dark makeup looks garish, like paint splashed over bleached-white bone. She takes an unsteady step backwards, shaking her head.

“Get out,” she barks, and I laugh.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not surprised you know my name. Actually, I’m glad—it will shorten the explanations before we get to the more…enjoyable part of our time together.” I smile at her. “I know you worked with my brother, Nicci, not all that long ago. I know more about you than you could possibly imagine. And youwillbe coming with me.”

“Why thefuckwould I do that?” she spits out, and the smile on my face only deepens.

“Because, Nicci—” I pause, watching the anger in her eyes flare, every moment that I’ve been waiting for this simmering through me with delicious anticipation of what I’m going to say next.

“You belong to me now.”

3

NICCI

I’m not surprised that Barca Valenti’s brother is an arrogant asshole, but when he says I belong to him, I almost feel relieved.

He’s full of shit. And however much money he has, however much power he wants to flex, he’s not taking me out of here. He can’t. That’s the one thing that I know—the only concession, other than the stage name I was given, that my father allowed in setting the rules of my punishment.

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