Savage Little Games: Chapter 7

When I wake up, Salvato is nowhere to be found, and it is nearly noon. I get my shower, with the bathroom door locked of course, then put on the dress I wore last night wishing I had clean panties and clothes.

Not that there is anything wrong with my panties. Seeing Dante Salvato naked and sleeping next to him didn’t get me hot or anything. I barely noticed the constant throbbing ache between my thighs all night long. Hopefully he didn’t feel the pelvic floor lifts that wouldn’t stop on his side of the mattress. Once he left this morning, the pulsing stopped, and I was finally able to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the tone he used when he yelled at me this morning that made my hormones calm down.

Salvato is a pain in the ass, but I don’t want him pissed off at me. Men have probably been shot for talking to him the way I have. Arguing with him. Calling him names. Since I want to remain bullet free, I make a promise to myself to try and be more agreeable and less bitchy today.

After all, it wasn’t Salvato who cheated on me or punched me repeatedly. If anything, he’s been weirdly protective of me since seeing the bruises.

I would prefer to work every night to get paid than take his money, though. The power imbalance between us is big enough as it is. The last thing I want to do is give Salvato something else he could hold over my head. In seventy-five days, I’ll be free of him, and Mitch will keep messing up his life, but at least it won’t be my fault if someone kills him.

When there’s a knock on the bedroom door, I’m not sure why I expect Salvato to be standing on the other side. He doesn’t have to knock before going in his room.

The door opens before I can walk over to it. The two women who start inside both freeze and stare at me, one with her arms full of towels and the other pushing a vacuum cleaner.

“Oh!” the first one with towels exclaims. “I am sorry. We thought the room was vacant.” They both gape at my face, the black eye that doesn’t look any better today. There’s no way to even try and hide it without my makeup.

“You’re fine. I can leave if you need me to get out of your way,” I tell them right before heavy footsteps sound in the hallway.

Apparently, the women are familiar with the stomp of those dress shoes because their eyes widen as they glance at each other in panic. They must have seen his bad side before too.

From this morning to now I had somehow forgotten how much room he takes up, not just his size but with the added arrogant swagger in his charcoal suit. Thankfully he doesn’t look as angry as he did earlier when his gaze lands on me.

“Mr. Salvato! We didn’t know you had a guest,” one of the women blurts out. “Please forgive us.”

“I should’ve notified you that Vanessa would be staying here. Do what you need to do, we’re leaving,” he tells them. “Ready?”

“Ah, yeah. It’s just…”

“What?” he snaps as he pulls out his phone. His fingers fly over the screen typing a message, refusing to look at me.

“I, um, need some makeup.”

Lifting his face to mine, he says, “No, you don’t.”

“No? So, you don’t mind if everyone who sees us together assumes you did this?” I ask as I gesture with my hands to my face.

“Fuck,” he mutters in understanding. “Give me a second.”

He turns to leave, and I can’t help but ask, “Any chance you could also find me a change of clothes and a pair of panties during that second?”

That has him putting his phone away as his gaze drifts to my lower body. I can see the question on his face. He’s wondering if I’m wearing any panties or not. He rubs his index finger over his bottom lip in what I’m starting to think is his tell for when he’s thinking dirty thoughts.

“You’re going to be the death of me, butterfly,” he grumbles before he strides out the door.

When the women continue to silently watch me, I realize there’s a stupid, triumphant smile on my face. It’s fun seeing Dante Salvato flustered. “He didn’t hit me,” I assure them.

“No. No, of course not,” they reply like they never doubted it for an instant.

“We’re not sleeping together either,” I feel the need to inform them. “Well, we are sleeping in the same bed but nothing else.”

“We’ll just come back later,” the woman with the vacuum responds before they both scuttle out the door.

“Do I want to know where this dress and the panties came from?” Vanessa asks in the elevator on the way downstairs.

“No. And I’ll need the dress back.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

I adjust the sleeves of my suit, wondering how much shit I’ll pay later for stealing the emerald dress from her closet without asking. It matches Vanessa’s eyes, which is why I picked it.

“Can I keep the makeup?” she asks.

“Yes.” Eli’s already finding the replacements for all of that shit. The designer dress isn’t as easily substituted.

“I wouldn’t need any new clothes if you would just let me go home.”

“If I say you need new clothes then you do,” I tell Vanessa as we make our way through the casino to one of the three boutiques. “I have to look at you all day and night for the next seventy-five days. I’m bored with seeing you in little black dresses. Butterflies are supposed to be bright and colorful.”

“It’s your dress code, remember?”

“So, I should’ve changed it just for you?”

“No. And you wouldn’t even know I exist if I hadn’t refused your offer for a quickie in the bathroom that first night.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure once would be enough with you.”

“Oh, but it’s enough with everyone else you sleep with?” she asks as we weave through slot machines and game tables. She’s so small next to me that my neck hurts when I try to see her face. I would love to know if she asked the question because she’s jealous. Too bad she either has a damn good poker face or truly finds me revolting.

“Usually, yes. Not one time, though. More like one night. A lot can happen in a few hours.”

Vanessa groans. “Women who are smart would be scared of you.”

“But most aren’t, are they?” I point out. “Are you scared of me? Is that why you refuse me? Do you think I would be too rough with you?”

I’m not sure if I would prefer that she hate me or fear me.

“No.”

“So, you like it rough and hard?”

“That’s…I’m not talking about this with you.” I can see enough of her face to know she’s blushing.

“Then what would you like to talk about while we walk across the entire resort?”

“Can’t we just play the silent game?”

“You’re the only woman I’ve shared my bedroom with, one of the few people I’m willing to converse with, who I’m completely honest with, and you just want me to shut up?”

“Yes. We’re not going to be friends, or anything else, Salvato. I’m here because you manipulated me, remember?”

“I remember. If you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to manipulate you.”

“Right, blame me for not being wise enough to see how amazing you are or whatever. Maybe, I just have common sense and know better than to willingly stroll into a hungry lion’s den wearing nothing but Lady Gaga’s meat dress.”

Unable to help my grin, I say, “Oh, butterfly. You don’t know me at all. Unlike a lion, I can’t ever be tamed.”

“How about lying down in a den of vipers?”

“There’s no antivenom for my bite.”

“Fine. You’re a one-of a kind savage beast no one survives. Maybe that’s why I’ve avoided you.”

“Glad you finally have a better perspective,” I say as we reach the boutique.

“Wow,” Vanessa says as she stands outside the enclosed glass store. “I bet one dress costs more than everything in my entire closet at home. The closet that’s just a few miles away from here…”

I don’t bother telling her that I have men packing up her things to bring to her later tonight. She would only be furious that I directed them to break into her apartment.

Ignoring her, I begin to sort through the sizes on a rack of dresses, choosing petite smalls.

“You’re not going to let me veto any selections, are you?” Vanessa asks with a scowl.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Within minutes, my arms are full of clothing. I’ve never been a fan of shopping before but knowing that each item I choose will slide over Vanessa’s bare curves is a nice motivator. I especially love picking out all of her new panties and matching bras.

“Pajamas, too?” she questions when I add a few hangers to the top of the pile. “Your choices for sleeping attire don’t look like they’ll keep me very warm.”

“That’s what I’m for.”

“Ugh,” she groans. “And the bathing suits?”

“Unless you prefer to skinny dip in my pool and hot tub. That’s fine with me.”

“No, I prefer a suit that covers me, not these tiny triangles and strings that wouldn’t cover a mouse’s tits or ass!”

Smiling, I tell her, “They’ll cover the most intimate areas. I could require you to remain naked all day every day.”

That threat finally has her shutting up.

When we’ve been through the entire store, I take her hand and pull her toward the dressing rooms. “Time to try these on.” I choose the last room—the biggest one. It has an armchair squeezed inside as well as plenty of mirrors and a long leather bench.

After locking the door behind Vanessa, I dump the pile of clothes on the bench before heading for that chair since this is going to take a while.

“What are you doing?” Vanessa asks as I get comfortable.

“I’m paying for the clothes, so I’m going to watch you try each and every piece on before I buy them.”

“Dante!” she exclaims, and we both seem to realize it’s the first time she’s called me by my first name. Progress already in less than twenty-four hours.

“Yes, Vanessa? That wasn’t a complaint on the tip of your tongue, was it? Just to remind you, as part of our agreement, I didn’t promise not to look at you, did I? Another rule you’ll have to learn to deal with during our time together. It’s the least you can do for your ex-boyfriend’s life, isn’t it?”

She stares at me, emerald eyes narrowed for one long moment. “You, sir, are no Richard Gere.”

“Who the fuck is Richard Gere?”

“The actor from ? He wouldn’t have insisted on watching Julia Roberts try on all the clothes he bought for her. While he may have been a rich prick, he was still a gentleman.”

“I’m the furthest thing from a gentleman, though.” Pulling out my knife from my pocket, I twirl it in my fingers. “So, take your clothes off.

.”

“If you want to watch me try on clothes, then I guess I don’t really have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“I don’t just want to see you undress,” I tell her honestly. “I also want to see where your other bruises are on your body. It’s for your own good, butterfly.”

“Right. Sure,” she says as she turns to the pile. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Anywhere you want, but we’re not leaving this room until you try on every single item.”