SAVANNAH

A heavy presence wakes me. He sits there, silently glaring at my sleeping face.

"You cost me 1.3 million dollars Gattina," he states, but bothering to look at me.

"You are pretty, sure. Bellissima, infatti. But that doesn't help me with my money."

(Beautiful, in fact.)

His accent is thick, and he pronounced words weird.

For instance, instead of saying money, he says mon-e.

The point of this, was to show how hot his accent is.

To clarify, it's hot as hell.

"And I'm pretty sure your pussy isn't magical. So... Unless you happen to have a first born to sell me, you're screwed."

I scrunch up my nose.

"How does a newborn equate to almost a million and a half dollars?"

"It screws with you emotionally," he shrugs nonplussed.

"Now, back to business. How are you going to pay me my money, Savannah?"

"How do you-"

"I'm Luciano Vitale. Don't ask stupid questions, yes?"

"Noted."

He nods, getting up from the bed I was laying on.

He walks to a panel of windows looking out of them pensively.

"Savannah, for someone who loves to talk, you are irritatingly silent when I ask you a question. So answer me: how will you return my money?"

Now, I'm angry.

How is it my fault he lost his illegal shipment of drugs or women or pigs, or whatever?

I mean, it's not like-

Oh, yeah. As I think about it, it may have been my fault a little.

Just a smidge though. Mostly, it's his fault for having 1.3 million dollars of illegal merchandise.

Otherwise, he could sue me.

I smirk triumphantly at the thought.

"I don't know why you look as if you've won anything, mia piccola gattina. You have lost. You have lost everything."

"I own you now baby. I own you, and I'm the last person in hell you'd want to cuff you."

"I'm not scared of you," I say bravely.

He chuckled lowly, flashing towards me and pinning my to headboard by my throat, straddling me.

"Oh, little kitty. I'm going to destroy you," he nuzzles his face in my neck, nipping at it,

"And my God, I'm going to enjoy it."