Catching Bianca: A Dark Mafia Romance (Shadows of Obsession Book 4)
Catching Bianca: Chapter 6

Days pass in a blur. Vaughn hasn’t brought up the awkward conversation where he compared me to his wife again, neither has he commented on how alike we are.

That doesn’t mean he’s stopped making me uncomfortable.

If anything, the feeling increases every time he downs one glass of whiskey after the next.

I catch him staring, eyes hooded, mouth parted, tongue wetting his lower lip. Three nights ago he pulled my covers up higher when he thought I was asleep.

Warm whiskey breath fanned the side of my face as he leaned over my bed. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest the whole time he was sitting beside me. It felt like an age before he tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear.

It took everything in me not to flinch away, bolt upright, and scream. I held still, the stench of alcohol wafting in the air hinting that a verbal scuffle would not go down well.

I didn’t want him comparing me to my mother again, telling me how beautiful he thought I was, or staring at me with a mixture of embarrassment and something else… something indecent I tried to forget.

Come morning, he acted as if nothing had happened. Of course he did; he had no idea I’d heard and felt him. Maybe he didn’t remember a thing. Given his rapidly increasing intake, that wouldn’t be surprising.

I, on the other hand, remembered every second and kept my distance, nose buried in a book all day long despite barely keeping my eyes open. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, too scared of how forward Vaughn might be after a few more drinks.

You’re sick. He’s not into you. He’s just looking after you.

Yes, and while that sounds more reasonable than the thoughts plaguing my mind, a small part of me remains apprehensive, to say the least.

Especially since I’ve caught him watching me more often.

When he’s sober, he averts his gaze immediately, but when he’s not… he doesn’t. He stares, the intensity of his eyes burning my cheeks every time.

That’s why I’ve stopped looking at him whenever he opens a bottle for his daily ritual. I keep my head down, focusing on the pages of yet another book. Thank God there’s a bookstore three streets over, or I’d be killing time with crossword puzzles.

Vaughn hijacks the TV for surveillance, so that form of entertainment isn’t available.

I’ve stayed awake the last two nights: eyes closed and mind racing, ears perking up at the slightest sound. Vaughn didn’t brush my hair away again… no, he grew bolder. He moved from his wheelchair onto my bed twice.

What he did was anyone’s guess. I didn’t dare look, but I felt the heat of his scrutiny as if he held a match against my skin.

It’s a miracle he couldn’t hear my pulse thundering. I was wound up tight, ready to strike and claw his face if he touched me, but he restrained himself. Once he moved back to his wheelchair, he heaved a long, resigned breath.

Losing sleep at night means napping during the day while Vaughn’s sober, but three days on borrowed time are catching up to me fast…

The longer we’re on the run, the more I question this entire thing. It made sense at first. I was kidnapped by the mafia for crying out loud. Running seemed like the best option to ensure I wouldn’t be held captive ever again. It made even more sense after Vaughn told me about Blaze and Octavius… the things they put Hailey and Violet through.

It made sense… right up until it didn’t.

The longer I’m alone with Vaughn, the more I notice how paranoid the man is. He’s losing his mind. I think he has been for a while. Probably since Mom got sick and he started making those questionable choices he told me about.

Every word he speaks about Mom and Hailey is filled with regret. He hates that he failed his wife, but knows he had no hope of saving her. I think it lessens the burden on his shoulders.

But Hailey… nothing can ease the pain of failing his daughter. His choices were the reason for the nightmare she lived both before and after her accident.

Now, he’s fueled the fire by betraying the man Hailey loves. The man who murdered his own father to keep her safe.

Since I learned that little detail, I can’t stop thinking about what Carter’s loyalty and devotion mean.

It makes sense that Vaughn’s hiding, but I can’t figure out why I’m hiding along with him.

If I dissect Carter’s behavior, I can’t see a single reason he could hurt me. I don’t think he would… unless Hailey wanted it.

Which brings my thoughts to Blaze Noretto and Octavius Grey. What’s their reason for wanting me dead?

Do they even want that, or is it another lie Vaughn conjured?

Closer to the end of my captivity, I didn’t mind Blaze. He promised he wouldn’t hurt me unless Vaughn failed, then reassured me every step of the way that it wouldn’t come to that. At some point, I believed him.

From the moment he arrived at Vaughn’s house with an army of identically dressed men, Blaze was a perfect gentleman.

Polite, friendly, calm.

He didn’t hurt me, didn’t say a single bad word in my direction, didn’t manhandle me into cooperation.

The gun he pressed to Vaughn’s temple took care of that.

While I hadn’t known Vaughn for long, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if Blaze shot him because I didn’t cooperate. He made a show of threatening my life as his goons led me to the car but retracted the threats once Vaughn was out of earshot.

I was nothing more than a compelling reason for Vaughn to dance like a circus monkey.

“Blackmail goes a long way in this business,” Blaze said as he handed me a flute of champagne in the back of his limo. “And Vaughn is particularly prone to blackmail. You’ll be free to go as soon as he completes his task.”

I was scared. Of course I was fucking scared. The man had a gun. He was surrounded by oversized men dressed in black, seemingly ready to take a bullet for him. I was whipped from a steady, boring life into the heart of the mafia.

But my fear didn’t last long.

Blaze made sure I was comfortable, kept me informed of Vaughn’s progress, and told me it wouldn’t be long now.

It took a while before I believed his words, but after days without any harm coming my way, I had to admit that temporary captivity wasn’t all that bad.

Lonely, boring, and free of the horrors I now know Hailey and Violet experienced.

When Blaze let me go, I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Not because I feared him… because I feared not wanting to leave.

Stockholm syndrome at its finest.

Noretto has this way about him, an aura of gentle dominance that quickly became appealing.

I realize considering him attractive in any way was wrong. Stupid. Immature. Thankfully I caught myself, banishing the thoughts from my mind before they took root. Still, not falling for my captor doesn’t change the fact that he has no reason to hurt me.

He has no reason to want me. Vaughn, maybe. Though I doubt he cares about the ex-cop much. Carter, on the other hand, does want Vaughn dead.

Vaughn. Not me.

If everything Vaughn’s told me about Carter is true, then he’d only be trying to replace me if Hailey wants to meet me.

After all, we are sisters.

Running is tiring. I miss my life, my job. I might not stay in touch with my parents or have friends I keep in touch with regularly, but I love my little flower shop. The longer we stay hidden, the more I hate myself for reaching out to Vaughn in the first place. I should’ve walked away the moment I learned my biological mother was dead.

I just had to dig deeper, didn’t I? As if knowing why she abandoned me would help me live a better life.

“I know you hate this,” Vaughn says, making me jump.

I’ve been so deep in my head I didn’t hear the wheels of his wheelchair move… He’s close now, inches from my bed.

“I don’t understand why you think I’m in danger. If Blaze wanted to hurt me—”

“You’re safe until he or Octavius decide they need me again. They took you away once.” He pauses, straightening up, his shoulders squared back. “I can’t let it happen again, sweetheart. I can’t lose you. I’ve failed too many times already.”

I swallow hard, ignoring the peculiar, unpleasant feeling sliding down my spine whenever Vaughn calls me sweetheart. It could be considered an innocent term of endearment. One a father would use when addressing his daughter, but Vaughn’s voice is loaded with more than paternal care.

And so is the heat behind his blue gaze.

“You did what they asked,” I insist, voicing my concerns. “What else could they possibly want from you?”

“They’ll think of something, trust me. Octavius had big plans before Willard got in his way. The evidence has evened out the playing field. Now they’ll be looking to strike.”

He runs a heavy hand down his face, inhaling a deep breath. His tone changes from the agitated, on-the-verge-of-losing-his-patience growl to a calmer, more patronizing register.

“As much as Hailey despises me now, she wouldn’t stand by if my life was threatened. Sooner or later, Blaze will figure that out. They’ll use me to manipulate her and, by extension, Carter because he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her from harm, be it physical or emotional.”

“Wouldn’t it be wise to ask Carter for help? If he won’t kill you, he—”

“He’ll use me like the others,” he cuts in, his voice breaking. “I’m tired, sweetheart. Tired of being a pawn, tired of dancing to their tune, tired of paying for the mistakes I made while trying to save your mother. I want a fresh start… with you, safe.”

I shudder again, a cold dead hand clutching my throat. The way Vaughn stares at me turns my insides into hard knots.

My imagination is skewed. He’s not really attracted to me, is he? He’s protective in a healthy, stepfather kind of way. It’s been so long since anyone cared for my well-being, for my safety, that I must be misinterpreting the signs.

Come to think of it, I doubt anyone ever cared.

I hide my face in my hands, my headache intensifying.

“Whatever they’re planning,” Vaughn continues in a soft, lulling tone, “whatever they might use me for later, I can’t risk them hurting you. I’m sorry for your current lifestyle, but I’m working on a more permanent setting. We might move to Europe soon. We’ll be safer there. New identities, new lives.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Europe? Together? Does he think I’ll leave my life behind just like that?

I’m not the one they want. It’s him.

“I can’t do that,” I say on a sigh, digging the pads of my hands into my eyes as if that’ll ease the headache. “They’re not after me, Vaughn. I’m useless.”

“You’re a bargaining chip,” he clips, his temper flaring. “They’ll use you to manipulate me. I can’t be Grey’s pawn forever, Bianca. I can’t keep doing his bidding, and he won’t stop using me until I’m good and dead.”

Then maybe you should let Carter kill you.

I shudder at the thought. Who the hell am I to even think this way? What happened to the girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly?

The past three months happened.

Everything I’ve ever known shattered around me. Things I’ve only seen in movies played out right before my eyes. Mafia, guns, blood, blackmail… this shouldn’t be real. This shouldn’t be happening in the twenty-first century.

Where the hell are the cops? The FBI, CIA, DEA, and all the other abbreviations?

Vaughn must understand that he is the obstacle here. That without him in the picture, Hailey would be safe, well taken care of. That I would be safe, and so would Violet.

Over the past two months I’ve heard countless stories from Vaughn. He makes countless excuses for his poor choices, oblivious to the fact that he’s the root of everyone’s problems.

I don’t say it out loud. I can’t tell him he should roll over and die already. It’d spare everyone more trouble.

I can’t keep running forever.

Vaughn and I met because I reached out to him. It’s only fair that I decide when this friendship ends.

The longer I’m locked in one room with him, the more of a monster I see. He might be filled with regret, but he’s still a methodical, calculated cop beneath the mask.

He’s a selfish man. There are moments when I wonder if he has another agenda for keeping me here. Maybe there’s more to this. Maybe I’m his pawn now.

“I need air,” I say, climbing off my bed, vision blurring with unshed tears. “I’ll go down to the shop. Do you want anything?”

“A bottle of whiskey,” he replies on autopilot, watching the street. “Actually, make it two, sweetheart. Keep your head down.”

Yeah, yeah.

Maybe I should take up drinking. A few glasses of the amber liquor might calm my nerves. It mellows Vaughn out a bit.

“Two. Got it,” I say, reaching for the door handle, the room key in my back pocket.

An elevator trip downstairs and I exit the building, hiding my identity under the hoodie. Rain pelts down from the sky, the air thick with an incoming storm.

Vaughn believes that both teams, Carter’s and Grey’s, are running facial recognition on us. Whenever I’m out, I keep either my hoodie or a baseball cap low enough to obscure most of my face, eyes cast downward, avoiding cameras.

I feel like a criminal roaming the store. The cashier follows my every move, as if waiting to catch me stealing. After seventeen evenings of buying whiskey here, he regards me with disdain.

I’m back twenty minutes later and Vaughn’s asleep in his wheelchair, head on his shoulder, mouth parted, a half-empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. Not much further down than it was when he stopped drinking last night.

I settle the two I bought beside it, tiptoeing toward my bed. It’s barely past six in the evening, but our sleep schedule is fucked beyond recognition. I’m not surprised he’s fallen asleep, holding on to his empty glass.

With a book in hand, I curl into a ball under the fluffy blanket, focusing my attention on the words printed on paper. At the bottom of the page, I realize I have no idea what I read.

My temples pulse with the lingering headache. The dreaded feeling of sleep deprivation makes my mind hazy. I shake my head once, then again, and again, fighting to stay awake.

Whenever Vaughn crashes like this, he’s out for ten hours straight, loading his batteries for another fortnight of surviving on short naps. He won’t be up until the morning hours… all the alcohol will be burned out of his system by then.

My defenses fall, everything that kept me awake crumbling. It’s okay to close my eyes while he sleeps. He hasn’t done anything inappropriate, save for staring, and he barely put a dent in tonight’s bottle.

He’s not drunk. Not even close. It takes more than two glasses to inebriate Vaughn.

Yeah, it’s okay to sleep.