Page 59 of Owning Nicci

“Probably not,” he admits. “But I’d like to know.”

I’d like you to trust me enough to tell me.That, I think, is what’s underneath the question. But it’s not a matter of trust. I think he’s already figured out the truth—he just wants to hear me say it aloud.

I look at him, trying to uncover some ulterior motive. But I can’t read his expression.

“I just want to know,” he says, in a gentler tone than I’ve ever heard him use before. “After what you told me yesterday…”

I swallow hard, tightening my arms around my waist as I look out over the pond. “Some of them were from the men at the club,” I say finally. “And some of them were from my father and my brother. He promised me more abuse if I failed, and he kept that promise.” I laugh bitterly at that, the sound sticking in my throat. “He’s always kept his promises. It’s just that none of them were ever good.”

Savio reaches out, his fingers skimming lightly along my jaw, and this time, I don’t pull away. “I can’t begin to know what it’s like to endure what you’ve gone through,” he says quietly. “But I know a little about what it’s like to have a father who promises things and doesn’t follow through.”

“Like what?” I look up at him, and he winces.

“Like promising to love both of his sons equally. Like promising that he’d always help us fight to get back anything that we lost… until it was one of us who took something from the other.”

I frown at him. “What did you lose?”

Savio’s hand drops away, and for a moment, I think he’ll clam up. That he won’t want to share something so personal with me. He presses his lips together, his expression faraway.

“I was in love with someone once.” He takes a step away from me, turning toward the pond. “A woman named Sophie. I was under the impression that she loved me, too. She was very beautiful, very smart. We were a good match—in humor, in interests, in…everything.” He says it with a touch of wistfulness, and I feel a flicker of unexpected jealousy, thinking of him with this other, beautiful woman, wheneverythingwas so good.

“My brother and I never got along very well. Whatever I had, he wanted. If our father was proud of me for something, he’d try his best to steal that attention away. And it was the same thing with Sophie. When he saw I was in love with her, he decided he wanted her. He’d flirt with her. Try to charm her. Tell her allhis grand ideas for who he’d be in the future. Rich. Powerful. Someone to rival the crime bosses of Manhattan.”

I wince. I have some idea where this is going, and I see Savio’s jaw tighten as he recalls the memory.

“I trusted her. But Barca and my father were already making plans against Gallo. I came home one day to find him in our bed with her. She didn’t even bother making excuses. Neither of them did. He was fucking balls-deep in her—” Savio’s teeth grind together, his hands curling into fists. “He pulled out of her, flipped her around, and kissed her right in front of me. I watched her kiss him back, like I wasn’t even there. And then he put her down on her knees, while I was standing there, and I saw her take his cock like she’d never taken mine.”

The last sentence comes out in a growl, Savio’s voice full of spite and remembered hurt, and my chest tightens. I can see the pieces starting to click into place.

It doesn’t excuse it,I think.It doesn’t excuse any of it.But if so, then does my past excuse what I’ve done? I helped Barca track down and capture Evelyn. She could have died because of me. I would have gone along with marrying Dimitri after that, too, if my father had managed it, kept that a secret from him ‘til death do us part, to escape the punishment that my father had planned for me if I failed. And if he’d demanded something similar of me after my second attempt at an engagement failed, I would have done that, too. I was too afraid of what would happen if I didn’t—and it happened anyway, all the same.

I’ve long wondered if I’ve gone too far, if not even all the torment I’ve endured can make the things I’ve done seem excusable. If that’s true for Savio, it must be true for me, too.

“That’s why you bought me.” I look at his tense face in profile, his jaw still clenched. “Why you said you wanted to take what Barca had. He fucked the woman you loved right in front of you, and so you decided to do the same to him.” I think ofthat first morning I woke up in Savio’s penthouse, how he’d put me down on my knees and fucked my face. He must have been thinking of that, then, feeling the sweet burn of revenge as he came down my throat. “There’s just one problem with that plan.”

A muscle twitches in Savio’s jaw. “What’s that,principessa?” he asks, his voice thick.

I laugh grimly. “Barca didn’t love me. And he’s dead. So really, it’s not much revenge at all.” I kick at the grass, feeling something unfurl in me, a deep sadness that reminds me that no one has ever really cared enough to give a shit if someone else touched me.

Only Savio, for all the wrong reasons.

“The only reason Barca would have ever given a shit if you fucked me in front of him was because, for a little while, I belonged to him. Which is the only reasonyou’veever given a shit if anyone else touched me. So what’s the difference, really?” I take a step back. “It’s not the same thing as what he did to you, Savio.”

The muscle in his cheek twitches again. “Don’t you think I know that?” he asks quietly.

Silence stretches between us. After a long moment, Savio turns and starts to walk up the hill.

—

When I finally come back up tothe cabin, Savio is in the kitchen, making food. I smell the scent of bacon and eggs cooking, and I frown as I walk in, kicking off my sneakers in the mudroom. “I didn’t think you could cook,” I say wryly as I walk in. “Hasn’t every meal I’ve ever eaten since I came to your place been ordered in? And where did the food come from?”

Savio glances back at me, flipping a fried egg. “I can cook,” he says with a laugh. “I just prefer not to, most of the time. I’m always busy. It’s one less thing to deal with if I’m not cooking. And since I have the money not to, why not?” He shrugs. “But I do know how.”

“And the food?” I sink down at the table, feeling the shock of my freedom again. It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to live life normally, to move around as I see fit, to not be restricted to one room. I hope Savio doesn’t have plans for things to go back to the way they were before because I’m not sure I can do it.

“The driver brought it up and dropped it off just a little while ago.” He nudges the bacon around the pan, picking it out with tongs and setting it on a plate. “We’ve got food for a few days. How do you feel about burgers tonight?”

I stare at him, my eyes narrowing. “This is ridiculous, Savio. What isthis…playing house? You’re standing there asking me what I want for dinner after all this time of…of…”

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