Catching Bianca: A Dark Mafia Romance (Shadows of Obsession Book 4)
Catching Bianca: Chapter 35

The bathroom smells like coconut. I never paid much attention to the scent, but since Ryder pointed it out, it’s somehow become more potent. A haze of steam clings to the mirror as I coat my lashes with mascara, my makeup darker than usual.

It matches the dress molded to my body. The deep green fabric almost glitters in the light. It’s short. As short as the other two dresses I wore to Scarlett, but with thin straps crisscrossing over my back, this one toes the line between elegant and sinful.

My dark hair flirts with my shoulders, tumbling down in soft waves, and the four-inch heels make my legs look amazing if I do say so myself.

I smooth my dress one last time before stepping into Ryder’s bedroom. The cool air of the condo caresses my exposed skin. Ryder sits on the bed, adjusting the sleeves of his white shirt.

The second he glances up, his expression turns feral. His eyes darken, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he slowly straightens to his full height.

“Fuck me,” he grits out in a rough voice that sends a jolt of heat right through me.

“Maybe I will.” I keep my expression playful, arching a brow. “Like what you see?” I spin around, showing off the low back.

He crosses the room in three long strides, the scent of his cologne messing with my head when he stops so close I feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re cruel,” he says, his hands hovering over my hips.

“Cruel?”

He takes another sweep of me, lingering on the hemline barely skimming the tops of my thighs. “So fucking cruel… How am I supposed to keep my hands off you?”

“You’re not.”

“But I have to.”

I pull back, a flicker of doubt clouding my judgment.

Ryder notices. Of course he does. Sometimes I think he can see inside my head, hear every insecure thought.

He grabs my hip and tilts my chin up. He exhales, his forehead nearly touching mine as he leans closer.

“I can’t parade you around Scarlett like some trophy. I told you: showing people you’re important to me gives them another reason to hurt you.”

“Why doesn’t Carter share your sentiment? Why doesn’t Broadway? They don’t hide their women.”

“They didn’t consider the consequences and now it’s too late.” His jaw tightens. “Broadway’s feelings for Violet are the reason she was almost deported. Vaughn knew he’d crawl through fucking hell to keep her around and he used that. I don’t want him or anyone else using you.”

“You said yourself that I’m already a target, Ryder. Carter said so too. Vaughn already tried grabbing me, and he doesn’t even know about us.”

“You think I enjoy this?” he clips, his temper rising. “You think I don’t want to sit you on my lap in Scarlett and show every asshole who can’t stop staring at you that you’re mine?”

“Am I?” I cut in. “Am I really yours? Or is it just proximity and convenience?”

His eyes flash with anger. “I’m falling in love with you so fucking fast it makes my head spin. You’re mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if that means cutting off my hands to keep them off you in public.”

“I… Ryder, I—” My voice falters, my mind scrambling to process what he said.

The L word.

He cups my cheeks, his thumbs brushing my skin. “You’re mine, baby,” he repeats. “And I’m yours. Nothing to do with convenience or proximity. That’s bullshit.”

My heartrate picks up, the emotions I’ve been trying to hold on a leash flooding my system. I reach up, tangling my fingers in his hair as I pull his mouth to mine.

The kiss is fire. Desperate, consuming, electric. Confessions without words. Declarations in every sweep of our tongues. He wraps me in his arms, one hand sliding down my lower back while the other cups the nape of my neck, holding me against his chest.

The world falls away. Stops spinning. Flattens. Implodes around us and rebuilds again. New, shiny, full of trust, love, and affection like I’ve never experienced.

Ryder breaks the kiss, touching his forehead to mine. “You’re cruel,” he whispers again, a small smirk tugging his lips.

“You’re exhausting,” I shoot back.

“And you’re mine.”

The words settle in my chest, filling the empty spaces I didn’t know existed. For the first time ever, I feel steady. Whole.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, then step out of his reach.

I understand why he won’t show me off, but that doesn’t mean I agree with his reasoning. It doesn’t mean I like it. It also doesn’t mean I can’t make his life a little more difficult.

“I’m not wearing panties, so good luck keeping your hands to yourself.”

His smirk vanishes, replaced by an animalistic, predatory look that makes heat pool low in my belly. He pounces, grabbing my waist to pin me against the wall. He towers above me, quickening my pulse. I love how big he is. How he hides me in his arms and shields me from the world.

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he grits out, dipping his head for a kiss as I turn away at the last second.

His lips graze my cheek.

“No, no, no,” I say, lilting my voice like I’m addressing a misbehaving child. I tap his chest with each word as I add, “You said no touching.”

“We’re alone,” he counters, his tone caught between warning and desperation. He tries kissing me again, tilts my chin with his fingers, but I duck under his arm, twisting out of his grasp.

“Hands to yourself, sir,” I tease, tugging the hem of my dress back in place.

Ryder groans with pure frustration. He rakes a hand through his hair, his chest heaving with the effort to rein in his desire. I almost moan when he betrays his lack of self-control by adjusting himself in his pants.

“That’s how you want to play?” He steps closer, his hands hovering over my cheeks before falling away. “You’re on. Let’s see who lasts longer.” He grabs the doorknob and glances over his shoulder. “Don’t make yourself an accessory to murder by letting anyone touch you.”

***

A long line of partygoers, dressed to impress, stretches down the block as Ryder parks outside the club. He throws the keys at one of the three bouncers at the door, a silent order to park his car at the back of Scarlett. Music spills out onto the street, the bass so potent the pavement vibrates under my shoes.

Ryder walks beside me as we bypass the crowd, heading straight for the entrance. He doesn’t touch me, but his hands flex open and closed, like he’s fighting an internal battle.

Good. Let him writhe.

I hope he’s uncomfortably hard all evening… as hard as I am wet, my arousal sticky on my inner thighs. I’m already regretting this little game. Just knowing it’s a game heightens my senses and elevates the aching need.

An order for him to take me back home clogs my throat, but I swallow the words. I have the upper hand. I’m not a quitter.

Patience is a virtue. And patience is rewarded. Though, in this case, I bet it will be a divine punishment once we get back home. Ryder fucks like a machine when his temper kicks in.

We enter the club, greeted by a symphony of chaos. Heat and smoke tango through the air together, while strobe lights paint everything in flashes of neon. The familiar scent of alcohol blends with expensive colognes and perfumes.

Arthur waits inside the VIP area, his spine straightening when he spots us. “I owe you both an apology.” He inhales deeply as if bracing for a long monologue.

“No, you don’t,” I cut in before he spirals. “It wasn’t your fault. Things just… happened.”

His gaze shifts to Ryder. “I should’ve been more careful. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Ryder doesn’t respond. He glares like he’s wondering whether to throw a punch or let it slide.

I elbow his ribs, regretting the decision when a fit of shivers makes me tremble at the contact.

This is insane. We had sex this morning. I should be sated. I would be if this game weren’t so thrilling. If not for the predatory looks Ryder’s been giving me since we left the apartment.

The desire in his eyes speaks volumes. I feel like he’s undressing me inside his head whenever he looks at me. My skin tingles with anticipation, the low ache building in my belly making me feel like I’m about to combust.

“We’re good,” Ryder says, his attention back on Arthur, tone clipped, but sincere. “Shit happens. The main thing is that Bianca’s safe. You’ll know better next time.”

Arthur’s shoulders sag. He bobs his head in what I assume is some respectful gesture and glues his back to the wall flanking the entrance.

“Come on, Hailey’s getting impatient,” Ryder says, his hand brushing my lower back for a fleeting second.

“I thought you said no touching.”

“You made the task damn near impossible.”

My triumphant smile grows wider as we weave toward the table where Hailey and Violet sit on a plush loveseat, their men engaged in a casual conversation close by.

I have no idea what they’re talking about but their relaxed stance tells me it can’t be anything heavy. They’re all wound up tighter than piano strings whenever they discuss business.

Violet waves me over, her face lighting up as I slide into a leather chair beside them. “Fashionably late?” she teases, her voice loud enough to carry over the music. “I wonder why.”

Ryder’s molten gaze burns through me from across the table, every look coursing a fresh wave of heat through my veins.

It’s unbearable. The tension. The need.

Hailey leans forward, looking between me and Ryder while he takes a seat beside Koby. “So,” she says in a hushed voice. “You and Ryder?”

“Broadway told us,” Violet adds. “Denial is no longer a river in Egypt. Spill it.”

“Broadway has a big mouth,” I mutter, accepting a drink from one of Carter’s soldiers. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” They say in unison. “We need details.”

“The sex is amazing,” I blurt out, pulling out the big guns.

Hailey’s jaw drops, and Violet lets out a scandalized laugh. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and not elaborate.”

Hailey turns pink, but her curiosity overshadows her embarrassment. “How amazing are we talking?”

I glance at Ryder, my smile growing. He’s chatting with Koby, he’s relaxed in that false way that masks the lust beneath. His attention isn’t fully on the conversation, eyes flicking to me every few seconds, and each time, they’re a touch darker.

“It’s like… he doesn’t just touch me; he consumes me. Makes damn sure I never forget who I belong to.” I take a sip of my wine. “But it’s not all gold. He drives me up the wall, too. Like tonight. The no touching in public rule is torture.”

Hailey tilts her head. “Why won’t he touch you?”

“Because he thinks it’ll make me a bigger target.” I air quote, rolling my eyes for good measure.

I glance at Ryder again, catching the way he scrutinizes me while Koby talks. He’s not even trying to be subtle. His jaw is tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shifts in his seat. My eyes dip lower, under his table, and I catch him adjusting his hard cock. The sight sends a flush up my neck.

“He’s overreacting. Carter and Broadway don’t hide us and we’re still alive,” Hailey reasons.

“Ryder doesn’t care about logic.” I drag my eyes back to the girls. “He just cares about keeping me safe.”

“He will,” Violet says. “You trust him, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

On more than one level. I trust that he’ll keep me safe. I also trust him enough to let him in, let him see every corner of me, no matter how messy or broken.

The heat of his stare burns my cheeks, and I glance at him once more. Another hot flush slams into me, so potent it feels like I’m running a fever. I can’t sit still. I need a break, a few moments to splash my chest with cold water.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say, standing abruptly.

I don’t wait for permission. I navigate my way into the hallway, the clicking of my heels swallowed by the surrounding noise. The air’s cooler here, but it fails to calm the heat rushing through my veins.

A firm hand wraps around my wrist. I barely have time to gasp before I’m yanked into a dark storage room, the door slamming closed behind me.

I’m spun around, my back pressing against a shelf. “You’re killing me,” Ryder growls, leaning in.

The raw need in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat through me, and for a moment, I’m on the verge of giving in. But this game is too good to end prematurely. I’ve never been this turned on in my life. As uncomfortable as that is, seeing how much keeping a distance costs Ryder is glorious.

“Couldn’t wait?” I ask, my pulse racing as I press gently on his chest so he’ll step back. “No touching, remember?”

His jaw ticks, frustration palpable as he leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You want me to beg, baby? Because I will. On my knees. With my face between your legs.”

The image his words paint shatters the last of my resolve. I grab him by his shirt and yank him lower, our mouths crashing in a kiss so intense it feels like a free fall.

He grabs my thighs, hauling me up, his whole body pressing into me as I wrap my legs around him. The shelf digs into my back, but I ignore the sting, consumed by how Ryder’s lips move against mine, claiming and devouring like he can’t get enough.

I tangle my fingers in his hair, arching into him. His grip tightens as he latches onto my neck, kissing, sucking, and nipping.

“Ryder,” I gasp.

“Fuck. I love it when you struggle to say my name.” His hand dips under my dress, one finger testing how wet I am while his teeth nip at my collarbone. “So ready. So desperate.”

I grab his hard cock through his pants. “So are you.”

He inhales sharply, then sinks into my mouth again, the kiss even more urgent, more desperate while I keep rubbing his length, and his fingers skim along my entrance.

He breaks away, his forehead against mine, breathing as ragged as my own. “We need to get back.”

“Do we?” I squeeze him a touch harder than before, earning a shaky exhale.

“If I don’t stop now, I won’t stop at all and I’m not fucking my girl in a storage room.”

I grin, catch his lower lip between my teeth, and pull before releasing it. “You lost. What did I win?”

“Whatever you want, Summer.” He sets me down gently but doesn’t let go. His hands stay on my hips, his thumbs brushing small circles as he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I’ll give you anything.”

“I want to sit on your face.”

He freezes, his jaw tight, hands on my hips grasping harder as if he’s anchoring himself. “Grab. Your. Bag. We’re leaving.”

I run my fingers down his torso. “We just got here. It’d be rude to leave now. Patience, baby.”

“I don’t have any left.”

“Find some.” I peck his nose and duck under his arm, exiting the storage room before he can haul me over his shoulder and carry me straight to his car.

My legs are still trembling when I re-enter the VIP section. I run my fingers through my hair and adjust my dress before joining the girls, ever so casual.

Violet’s knowing grin tells me I’m not fooling anyone. “Bathroom, huh?” She bounces her eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up.” I grab my drink to busy my hands.

“You’re glowing,” Hailey chimes in.

The two of them are as exhausting as Ryder.

I dart a quick glance at him. He’s reclaimed his seat beside Koby, his arm draped over the back of his chair, the relaxed posture a big fat lie. His hungry eyes flick toward me, his jaw tight, his fists clenching and unclenching on the armrest.

“I’m not glowing,” I argue, though my heated skin says otherwise. “Violet’s glowing. How are you feeling, anyway?”

“You think you can change the subject that easily?”

Before I can answer, the atmosphere shifts. A subtle unmistakable ripple of tension rolls through Ryder, Broadway, Koby, and Ryder, their attention on the VIP entrance. I look across, a boulder settling in my stomach.

Jax Hall strides in, the jagged scar on his throat a reminder of how close Carter came to killing him. Ryder’s told me the story, but he refused to share the details of their meeting last week.

Leilani’s right beside Jax, her shoulders hunched, hands clasped in front of her like she’s bracing for impact. She’s wearing a beige babydoll dress that makes her look even more fragile. Her ink-black hair spills over her shoulders, wide brown eyes darting nervously around the room.

“She looks worse than last time,” Violet points out. “She’s sweet, but she looks terrified.”

“Look at Koby,” Hailey whispers.

I’ve got used to his easygoing smirk, permanently fixed in place like it’s tattooed there, but it’s nowhere in sight tonight. His entire body draws taut, back straight, hands gripping the armrests of his chair, eyes locked on Leilani. He stares, unblinking, and shudders when Jax places a hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

“He’s… intense,” I say.

“He was like that last week too,” Violet whispers. “He looks ready to beat seven kinds of shit out of Jax.”

She’s not wrong. Koby leans forward, his jaw tight, murder on his mind when Leilani flinches as Jax leans down to whisper something in her ear.

I sip my drink as if the wine might counteract the unease rooting itself to my bones. Leilani looks around, our eyes locking for a second. I offer her a small smile. Judging by the way her shoulders curl inward you’d think I’d slapped her.

“Do you think Jax hurts her?” Hailey asks quietly. “He wasn’t particularly cruel when I was at Noretto’s.”

“I don’t know,” Violet admits. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Hailey sighs, her gaze ping-ponging between Koby and Leilani. “This won’t end well. Something’s brewing between Jax, Noretto, and Carter. I don’t know what, but Koby needs to get his shit together. He can’t act until there’s a plan, and I know there isn’t one yet because Carter’s been jittery all week.”

“I don’t think he can sit on the sidelines much longer,” Violet muses. “He doesn’t look like he’ll remain seated for long. I don’t think it’ll take much for him to snap.”

Hailey cringes. “I don’t like it when Koby snaps.”

“Why?” I ask.

“You thought Broadway’s head-cutting stunt was terrifying? Wait till you see Koby lose it.”

My stomach twists at the memory. Somehow, I can’t think of anything worse than gifting your girlfriend, the soon-to-be mother of your child, a severed head. I check on Ryder and replace him already watching me.

He gives me a faint smile—inaudible reassurance—then he and the other men rise to their feet while Leilani stilettoes toward our table.

Koby’s eyes trace her every move.