Page 37 of Owning Nicci

Nicci looks startled that I’ve capitulated so easily. “Really?” There’s genuine surprise in her tone, and for a moment, the careful guard that she always has up around me falls away. For that brief second, as her expression opens and turns curious, we might just be two people making plans for something far more normal than assassinating my brother’s former gang.

“Yes.” I take the paper out of her hand, a little too quickly, turning away from her before she can see just how off-balance she’s thrown me. “I’ll put someone on it tonight—watching for him, I mean. Be ready for me to tell you that we need to go. It could be tonight, or tomorrow…or later. It just depends on when I get the call.”

“Sounds fine to me.” There’s the sound of her weight shifting on the mats behind me, and she blows out a sharp breath. “Can we go hom—back? I really want a shower.Sir.”

There’s so much that I should address about what she just said, but I’m stuck at the beginning, at the moment where she very nearly called my penthouse home. A slip of the tongue, obviously… but something tightened in my chest when she said it. When shechangedit, catching herself and realizing that she’d spoken out of turn. The rest had been almost sarcastic, as if she wanted me to focus on that instead of her mistake.

I should punish her for all of it. For her sarcasm, for nearly callingmypenthouse her home, for her attitude since the moment I showed her Marco’s photo. She needs to be reminded of her place, and I clearly need to be reminded of why I started all of this in the first place.

But I don’t feel the desire to. Instead, once we’re back at the penthouse, I take her to her room and leave her there. I step back out into the hall, her workout clothes wadded up in one hand, and drag the other through my hair, reminding myself over and over of the mantra that has gotten me through since I left Manhattan.

I’m in control. I’m in control. I am the one in control.

And yet, for the first time since everything fell apart and I ran, it rings hollow, even in my own head.

13

SAVIO

Two evenings later, I get the call on a burner from the guy I have looking out for Marco Black—he’s at the bar. I’m told that he just showed up and looks like he’s settling in, so I have just enough time to give Nicci some clothes and get us out there. Hopefully we’ll make it before any other woman claims him for the night, or he decides to cash out and head someplace new.

A strange swirl of emotion churns through me as I set the phone down. I should be anticipating taking out another of my brother’s men. Taking another step forward in my plan to eradicate or possess everything he once had or wanted. But all I can think about is that in order for tonight to go forward as planned, Nicci has to pretend to seduce another man.Touchanother man. Let him touch her.

It feels like an obsession, and not the kind of obsession that I’ve developed over the past years to craft my life into what it is now. I’m obsessed with plenty of things—order, rules, control. I don’t spend wildly or act without thinking things through first. And that’s why this obsession with Nicci, thisnewobsession, could unravel everything if I don’t get a handle on it.

She makes me feel feral. Primal. Barely in control. She’s the antithesis of everything I’ve built in the past years since I left Manhattan, and I can’t help but think that she could destroy everything if I’m not careful.

Maybe tonight is what I need to remind myself of the goal. A sort of exposure therapy—seeing Nicci enact our plan.

I take her the clothes that I had a shopping assistant pick out for her to wear tonight, collecting her dinner tray. She looks at me with barely veiled excitement when she takes them, but I don’t let myself linger for too long. I can’t. Not when I feel heat sliding through my veins just from being near her.

When she comes downstairs to meet me, I’m already waiting, dressed a bit more casually than usual. The sight of her walking down the stairs makes my heart briefly stutter in my chest, my cock instantly, painfully hard.

She doesn’t look anything like the women I usually sleep with. She doesn’t even look the way I’ve dressed her for previous outings. She looks more like she did at the Gilded Lily, but with better clothing…clothes that fit her, that suit her body.

Clothes that I want to rip off of her.

She’s wearing a pair of low-cut black jeans and a red, cropped tank top with snap buttons down the front, with low-top black sneakers. She put her hair up in a ponytail, which, along with the smoky, dark makeup she’s wearing, highlights her angular, model-like features.

She looks like I want to fucking ruin her.

Her gaze flicks downward as she meets me at the bottom of the stairs, and I see the small smirk that tilts the corners of her mouth when she realizes she’s already made me hard. I feel the subtle shift of power between us, that slight tilt as my desire comes into focus, and my jaw tightens.

I’m the one in control.

“Let’s go,” I tell her curtly. “The driver’s waiting, and I don’t want to miss our shot.”

In the car, we go over the plan again. Nicci will go in first, order a drink, and approach Marco. I’ll wait ten minutes and then go in, finding a place in the back to watch—until she convinces him to take her back to his place. Then, once again, I’ll follow and sneak in while she keeps him occupied, and we’ll finish him off.

I can sense her eagerness. She’s more fidgety than usual, tapping her fingers on her knee, biting her lip, shuffling her feet across the floor. It’s as if she had a taste for revenge last time, and now she can’t wait for more.

The driver pulls into the alley next to the bar, and Nicci slides out as he parks. My stomach tightens, my hands clench as I watch her walk away, out of my sight, and my entire body hums with the need to go after her. To reclaim her. To remind her that she’s mine.

I breathe slowly, trying to focus, to remain in control. The ten minutes that I’m forced to sit and wait feel interminably long. Finally, my watch beeps, and I get out of the car, taking long strides towards the bar entrance.

It’s another dive, much like the one where I met Saul. Dark and overly warm, with the scent of cheap beer and sweat overlaying everything, old rock hits playing through the speakers. I spot Marco and Nicci instantly, at one corner of the bar, and my jaw tightens, my teeth grinding so hard that I’m momentarily worried I might crack one.

Nicci has already made her move. There’s a beer in front of her, and she’s half in Marco’s lap, whispering something in his ear. His hand is roving down her lower back, thick fingers nudging at the waist of her jeans for a moment before he slides his hand lower to grab her ass.

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