Page 17 of Owning Nicci

I hope he comes for me today, regardless of what he wants. Having slept more than enough, I can already feel myself getting restless, agitated by being kept here in this room like a cage. I shift uneasily in the chair, getting up to pace the room, feeling more and more aware of my nakedness and how completely exposed I am. I feel raw and bare and vulnerable, and when I hear the sound of the lock clicking open on the door, I have toresist the urge to fling up my arms to cover myself. If it’s Savio, I know he won’t appreciate it. He might even use it as a reason to break the tentative truce between us.

He steps into the room, fully dressed. I wonder if it’s another power play, a way to emphasize the difference between the two of us, because no one I know, not even my father, walks around his own home in a full suit. Savio’s is dark grey with a pale blue button-down beneath it, and he wears it well.Toowell. I can’t ignore how attractive he is—more than attractive. He’s devastatingly gorgeous. The kind of handsome that’s impossible to ignore, even if I hate everything underneath the beautiful exterior.

His gaze sweeps over me, and I realize he’s holding something that looks like clothes in the crook of one arm. I feel a flicker of hope and swallow hard, trying not to stare at them for too long in case he decides to take them away.

“Did you sleep well?” Savio asks courteously, his tone flat. He looks at the tray on the desk. “You ate all your food. Good girl.”

“I slept fine.” I’m painfully conscious of his gaze sliding over me again, taking in every inch of my naked body.

“You showered?”

“Yes, sir.”

Savio nods, a pleased look on his face. “You’re a quick learner,principessa.” He steps forward, setting the clothes on the foot of the bed. “You’ll put these on to go to your training session with me this morning. When we come back, you’ll strip again and give me back the clothes. Do you understand?”

I nod again. “Yes, sir.”

A quick flick of my gaze downwards reveals just how turned on he is by my demure acquiescence. I can see his cock pressing against the front of his trousers, straining for attention, but Savio seems to be ignoring it. Whatever was trying to claw its way out of him yesterday, when I felt him struggling forcontrol, it’s not there now. He’s composed and poised, the aloof, detached man who came to the Gilded Lily that first night that I met him.

And then, when I look back up, I see him staring at my face, as if he hadn’t fullylookedat me since he walked in. His eyes narrow, and I know he sees the bruises there.

He twitches, almost as if he’s about to cross the space between us and come to me, and then I see his back stiffen, as if he’s holding himself in place. “Who did that to you?” he asks coldly, his eyes darkening with a possessive anger, and something hot curls through me, sparks skittering over my skin.

“That’s the first time anyone has asked,” I reply caustically, forcing every bit of resentment that I can into my tone. I’d rather he punish me than tell him the truth about some of these bruises.

“And I expect an answer.” His eyes are still roving over my face, down to my collarbone and breasts and ribs where more bruises are scattered, yellow and purple and green. There’s even one on my right hip, and some on my thighs. I covered them all with makeup for the club, thickly and efficiently enough that they couldn’t be seen. Savio couldn’t even see them last night, when he ordered me to strip for him.

“The men at the club,” I mutter, looking away from him. It’s a partial truth, but I don’t want him to realize that I’ve told him only half of it. If he tries to dig deeper, it won’t be good for either of us.

Savio is silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over me again, taking in every inch of my naked body with a cold, slow appraisal that seems clinical this time instead of lustful. I’m not sure if he entirely believes me, but he seems satisfied with my answer.

What startles me is the jolt of disappointment that I feel. As if part of me hoped he would care enough to keep digging.

Why the hell would he do that?He wanted to know who damaged his purchase, that’s all. He doesn’t care aboutme, only that he was sold damaged goods.

“Your father should have informed me about the bruising before he named his price,” he says flatly a moment later, confirming my suspicions. “But there’s nothing that can be done about it now. And they won’t be able to touch you again.”

Something shifts in his voice in that last sentence. It’s not caring or concern. But that possessiveness glints through again, just for a moment, and my stomach tightens.

For a moment, as ridiculous as I know it is, I almost feel…protected.

And then it’s gone.

“Get dressed,” he says coolly. “Go downstairs in fifteen minutes. I expect you at the front door, on your knees. We’ll leave when I come out to meet you.”

I can feel my cheeks burn at that, flushing hot with embarrassment at the idea of waiting for him on my knees, but I don’t argue. I just nod yet again, with another murmuredyes, sir, and Savio returns the nod briskly, turning and leaving the room.

I watch him go, flinching slightly when I hear the door click shut. I don’t understand him. I could feel him fighting for his self-control yesterday, on the edge of being consumed with anger and lust, and yet today he’s utterly detached. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t want me at all.

But I know men like Savio Valenti. One blowjob, no matter how good, and the beginnings of my submission won’t be enough to satisfy him. He’s waiting for something else, and I’m going to have to wait as well to find out what it is.

Fifteen minutes, and I’ve already wasted at least two of them. I hurriedly grab the clothes, finding a pair of cotton underwear, leggings, a sports bra, and a loose tank top, as well as a pair ofsneakers. I pull it all on, grateful to be covered up again, and quickly brush my teeth and rinse my mouth out before heading to the door.

It’s unlocked, of course, which suddenly feels like a luxury. I’ve settled into my captivity too quickly, and I remind myself that I need to stay wary. On edge. Ready for any chance, once I’ve gotten what I need, to kill Savio and escape. I need to look for weaknesses, chinks in his armor, places where I can drive the knife home once I’m well-armed enough.

Everything past my door is new to me. I was unconscious when he brought me here, and I take a moment to take in my surroundings. I’m on the second floor of this space—I see a short hallway with dark wood flooring and deep green walls, with a second door towards the end of it. Savio’s bedroom? There’s a dark wood and iron spiral staircase that leads down from the top floor, and I follow it down to a large, open-concept space that encompasses the kitchen and living room. The kitchen is all black granite and dark metal, the living room done in monochromatic tones, and the far wall is mostly glass, opening out to a stunning view of Manhattan beyond. I see two doors that undoubtedly lead to other rooms, and another staircase that leads to a loft-like space above.

Shaking my head, I hurry to the front door. I’m wasting time, and the last thing I need is for Savio to come down and see me staring as if I’ve never seen a penthouse before. Our truce might be over before it’s even barely begun.

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