Page 9 of Owning Nicci

Like a striking snake, Savio closes the distance between us before I can finish my line of thought. Smooth and calculated, his hand shoots out, wrapping around a fistful of my hair in a painful grip as he forces me down to my knees in one flex of his arm.

His hand holds me there, unable to move. He looks down at me, and I can see the flare of satisfaction in his eyes, a look of triumph. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his other hand move, but I can’t see what he’s doing. All I register is a small, sharp pain in the side of my neck, and Savio gives me a look that’s almost sympathetic.

“It could have been easier,principessa,” he says calmly. “But we’ll talk later. For now, this will make it so that you don’t have to choose.”

I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but my throat seems to tighten. It feels like it takes all of my effort just to suck air into my lungs, and the room tilts, my vision narrowing as I feel a wave of dizziness wash over me.

Fuck, is the last thought that runs through my head before the room tunnels, and darkness washes over me, Savio’s hand still tightly wrapped in my hair.

—

When I wake up,it’s with a jolt.

The room I’m in is dark. For a moment, I think I’m tied up, and then I realize that it’s just that my joints are stiff. I shift, noticing that I’m still in my clothes from the club, and what’s more, that the bed I’m lying on is impossibly soft.

It’s as soft as my bed at home, and the duvet that I run my hands over is high quality—I can feel it even in the darkness. The entire room is bathed in it, so dark that even after my sticky eyes adjust, I can’t make anything out. I sit up slowly, pressing the heel of my hand to the side of my throbbing head.

I still feel a little dizzy, though not as much as I did before I passed out. I prod the sore spot on the side of my neck, and anger washes over me in a hot, red haze.

That fucker drugged me. And then he took me?—

Where?Where did he take me, exactly? From just the feeling of the bed I’m in, I might have thought that someone rescued me and took me home, but I know that’s not true. Something feels off about the room. It doesn’t smell like mine. Even after all of my luxury makeup, designer perfumes, and other possessionswere taken away, the scent of all of it still lingered. This room smellstooclean, like no one actually lives here. I smell lemon cleaner and fresh detergent, but there’s no scent of aperson. Nothing warm and particular to someone, myself or otherwise.

My throat tightens with fear, mingling with anger. Barca Valenti is dead. If his brother wants me—for whatever unspoken reason he does—it can’t be good. The only real motivation I can think of for him kidnapping me is that he thinks I have answers—about something.

What, I don’t know. About my attempts to lure in little Evelyn Ashburn for Barca’s knife? About the deal he made with the former Yashkovpakhan? My failed engagement to the Yashkov heir? I’m not sure what Savio cares about in any of that—but if he wants answers about anything else, I don’t have them.

Swallowing hard, I push myself slowly off of the bed, my bare feet hitting cool, smooth wood. I don’t know where my heels are, but I’m glad to be rid of them—If I get the chance to run, I’ll get further in bare feet than I ever would have in those.

Padding across the room, hands out to avoid bumping into anything, I walk until my hands meet smooth fabric.Curtains. I grab them, yanking them back, and squint as the lights from the city skyline below flood into the room from the huge window that takes up most of the wall.

I’mnotin my father’s mansion. I’m somewhere in the city, in an apartment high up above the glittering lights below, and my stomach dips and swoops at the realization. I fight back a lurch of nausea, my mind still trying to reject the idea that Savio drugged and kidnapped me…when I hear the click of the door unlocking.

I whirl towards it, regretting the quick motion when my head throbs. I clench my hands into fists at my sides, ready to fly at whoever is coming in.

It’s Savio. He’s still wearing the same Armani suit from earlier—smooth and unrumpled. He closes the door behind him with a firmclick, flipping the lock before I can so much as move. He doesn’t turn the light on right away, only stands there, appraising me as I feel a tremor of fear run through me.

I’m still furious, but I’m smart enough to be afraid. Barca was a dangerous man in his own right, even if he played on a field that was out of his league. I have no reason to think that his brother is any different,especiallyafter what’s happened tonight.

And yet, he seems to know exactly how to make me forget all of that with just a few words.

“Have you calmed down yet,principessa?”

That one sentence makes me want to fly at him and claw his eyes out. He seems to see me flinch and shakes his head, his lips thinning. “If you do what I see you thinking about, I’ll drug you again and leave you to sleep it off and rethink your choices,” he warns. “I enjoy your spirit, Nicci. I’ll enjoy breaking it. But I won’t deal with hysterics.”

I glare at him, furious. “There’s nothing left to break,” I spi—and he chuckles dryly.

“I think that’s far from the truth.”

“You know what else is? You thinking that you can just kidnap me. Itoldyou that you couldn’t take me out of the club. When my father finds out?—”

Saviolaughs—a deep, real laugh that seems to come from his gut, making his shoulders shake. “Oh,principessa,” he says finally. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His games and evasion at the club were irritating. Now they’re fucking pissing me off. “Thenyouneed to start talking,” I hiss. “You know my name. Don’t you know who I fucking am?”

It’s a threat that has very little weight now, but it still holds some, if only because my father considers mehisto punish. He’snot going to appreciate someone else usurping that authority. I’m in the club becauseheput me there. Every hurt that’s done to me is under his oversight. Whatever Savio is doing is outside of that purview, and much as he said to me earlier, he won’t like the consequences of it.

Unless…

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