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I slowly lower myself to the floor, too shaky to stay upright. When I look down, I notice the skirt of the dress has a dark stain on it.
“You came on the dress,” I say in a monotone.
Victor breathes heavily and leans against the wall. “I did,” he answers. “We wouldn’t want to leave anything for Pavone to find.” While I watch, he takes the dress I hadn’t tried on yet and uses it to wipe his cock.
“Victor!” I hiss. It’s bad enough that we’re making a mess of the dressing room, with the mirror all fogged up and with handprints and finger-lines all down it, but he doesn’t need to ruin two dresses to boot.
I suppose I’ll be buying both of them, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to wear the red dress without thinking about Victor… which was probably the point.
“The wedding rehearsal,” Victor says once he’s tucked himself back in. “Your family will be there, correct? As will Pavone’s closest friends. That’s when we’ll hit him.”
It takes me a moment to come back to reality and remember we were supposed to be talking about Pavone’s assassination. Not having sex. Not worrying about buying dresses. But about getting out of this fucking wedding to begin with.
I nod. “Yes,” I agree, still a little dazed. The rehearsal and the dinner that follows will be the best place to take care of this. The easiest. I should’ve thought of it myself.
Victor finishes putting himself back together, not a hair out of place, while I’m still sitting on the floor. He gives me a strange smile. “Wear the red dress to the rehearsal, since you won’t get to wear it at the reception.”
Then he opens the door and steps out.
Angelo immediately enters, grinning widely. “Damn, that was a show. Victor’s a fucking bastard but he knows what he’s doing.”
“A show?” I hiss, quickly getting up to my feet and pulling up my underwear. “What do you mean, it was a show? You couldn’t see anything!”
“I could hear you, Princess.” He licks his lips. “By the way, need help cleaning up down there?”
“He didn’t come inside me,” I mutter, still wondering why I feel a little disappointed about that. It’s better this way. There’s no evidence of the fuck, only of my arousal and climax. As long as I have time to settle down before Pavone’s daily inspection, he’ll never know the difference. “He got it all over the dress, though.”
I look down at it with a sigh.
“Yeah, I know, Princess,” Angelo says. “I heard it all. But maybe there’s still a little bit of Victor inside you.” He puts an arm around me and draws me close. “Come on, I scared the clerk a lot to get her to leave us alone. Let me have my reward too.”
“Your reward? For what? Bringing Victor here?” I glare at him—or try to; it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “You don’t get rewarded for that.”
I squeak when he lifts me up, and I instinctively throw my arms around his shoulders.
“Fine.Yourreward, for putting up with Victor. How’s that?” Angelo sighs loudly. “Of course, since nobody’s keeping watch outside, no clue when the clerk will come back at this point… she might overhear me trying to convince you.”
In other words, he’s not going to give up until I say yes.
And even though I’m already painfully sensitive from my recent climax, I sigh and give in. He sets me down on the bench and spreads my legs, crouching between them as he claims his reward with his hands and tongue.
I end up buying all the dresses just as an apology to the clerk. It’s Pavone’s money, anyway.
15
LUCIA
Ishower when I get back, and I have an hour where I relax by myself in the bedroom before I hear Pavone’s steps thundering up the stairs. He has a very distinctive gait, as if he needs everybody to know that he’s on his way.
I get up from the bed and stand in the middle of the room, arms folded across my chest. I’ve come to dread these evening visits more than anything else. If I’m lucky, it’s “only” an inspection. If I’m not… I never know who Pavone is going to bring along to witness my degradation. At least Vanessa is being kept out of it. That’s the only consolation I have in all of this.
Pavone doesn’t knock. He simply enters the room. He seems a bit put out to see me standing already. After the first time he’d pulled me out of bed, I’d learned to anticipate him.
Rossi and Angelo follow in Pavone’s steps, waiting near the doorway—reminding me that I can’t run.
“Heard you went shopping today,” Pavone says. “You spent twelve thousand dollars on dresses?”
“Was that the amount?” I ask, playing dumb. “I wasn’t paying attention to the price tags. You told me to get whatever I needed.”
