Dirty Revenge (Dirty 3)

“I need you to sit up so I can wash your back.”

She opens her eyes slowly, as if even doing something that simple hurts. I’ve never been in that much physical pain before, so it’s hard for me to understand. I do understand emotional distress, however.

She grabs onto the side of the tub again and starts pulling while I put my hand on the smoothness of her back and push her into a sitting position. Her entire body trembles as I wash her back. I move quickly so she can relax again.

I put the soap away and grab the nearby bottle of shampoo. It’s not a feminine scent. It’s the kind I use. Fresh and manly. She will smell like me if I use it, and I can’t resist.

She notices the shampoo and dunks her head under the water to soak her long tresses. I squeeze a couple of drops of the shampoo into my hand and then massage it into her hair, hoping it will work on the tangles as well as the dirt.

Gia moans loudly.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask, stopping, afraid she has an injury covered by her hair.

She smiles up at me sweetly. “No, sorry. You massaging my head like that feels incredible.”

My jaw falls open a little when I massage the shampoo into her head again, and the same sound escapes her lips. It sounds like I’m doing much more to her body than just shampooing her hair. It sounds like I’m rubbing an area much further south. I can only imagine the sounds she makes when she comes.

I sigh. I need to wait days, weeks, months until I try to hear those types of sounds from her. And even then, I don’t think she will find sex with me enjoyable enough to gasp and moan at my touch. She will probably fight me off, instead.

I finish shampooing and help her dunk her hair back, rinsing the suds from her hair.

She runs her hands through her hair, working to untangle the strands.

“Give it time,” I say when I see the disappointment at her hair not untangling.

She nods.

We both need to give ourselves time.

I grab a towel from the cabinet while we wait for the water to drain out of the tub. When the tub is empty of water, I wrap the towel around her and carry her back to my bed. I sit her on the edge of the bed and help her dry her body and hair before I head to my drawers and pull out one of my T-shirts and boxer shorts. It feels strange to be giving her the same thing to wear Dante gave her.

But when I hold out the clothes for her, she takes them with a warm smile.

I help her put the clothes on and climb into the bed.

Her eyes fall closed the second her head hits the pillow.

“I’ll have Michi bring you food soon.”

“Mmm.”

I crack a tiny grin. I don’t know why you are in my life, Gia Carini, but you have turned all my plans upside down. I’m not even sure what I want with you, beautiful. My cock knows what he wants. But what do I want? Why did I take you? Why did I save you? And what happens next?

I sit in my favorite chair in the living room with a scotch in my hand. It’s late. Almost three in the morning, but I prefer the night. I like the darkness. It hides my emotions well. No one can discover any of my secrets if they are buried beneath the dark blanket of night.

I stare at my bedroom door I closed hours ago. Gia slept for two hours before I woke her to eat the soup and grilled cheese sandwich Michi cooked. She’s been asleep since after she finished her dinner. I considered sleeping in the bed next to her, but I stopped myself. I didn’t care if she was comfortable or not, but I knew if I slept in the same bed with her I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Fucking her will be so much better when she’s healed.

Instead, I sit in my chair drinking my scotch. It’s not an expensive brand. I don’t drink it for the taste. I drink it because it dulls my emotions. So why bother buying an expensive bottle?

I have a theory about Gia Carini. I think I know her better than she realizes. I’ve barely spent any time with her, but I know enough. My job is about reading people, and I can read her like an open book. The signs are all there. I don’t have to read the file I had Adela do on her to know who Gia Carini is. She may have thanked me for helping her escape this evening, but that was then. I don’t expect any more thank yous. From now on, the real Gia will come out. The one that will do whatever it takes to save herself.

I don’t have a TV, and even if I did, I wouldn’t turn it on to help the minutes pass. I don’t open a book or play music either. All that I have to pass the time with is my scotch and the ticking of the clock in my living room. It’s enough. Just thinking about Gia is enough.

I hear the familiar crick of the door.

I don’t react. I don’t smile or frown. I don’t gasp or growl. This was what I was expecting.

The door cracks open further until I can see the shadow of Gia standing in the doorway holding onto the doorway like it’s a lifeline.