Ryder: Hitman Mafia Romance (3 page)

Though, he’d have to keep his hands off her. If he messed up like that, it wouldn’t just be his job on the line, it would be his ass. Matteo was highly protective of his daughter. And while he trusted Ryder and all the other men he employed, no doubt he believed like Pia did, that none of them were good enough to date his daughter, let alone have casual sex with her. He was good enough to take a bullet for her, or get into fights for her, but not to be in a relationship with her.

He would shoot Ryder so fast if he found out they’d been together. No. He’d have to control himself. Have to find a minute to be alone and jerk off to relieve the pressure. He could fantasize about her all he wanted. That would have to be enough.

“We need to get back,” he said.

“I’m not ready to go back,” she said. But her voice was much gentler now. She didn’t scream or wave her hands around at him. She actually looked somewhat sad.

“Do you really want him to call the cops to come out here and find you?”

She thought for a minute, then shook her head. “Fine.”

Then he thought she could just text or call her father to tell him she was out here and was going to go for a ride or whatever it was she wanted to do. But she hadn’t thought of it, and now that he’d gotten her to comply, he certainly wasn’t going to suggest it.

They walked back toward the house. He hadn’t realized how far they’d come. They’d been running for a while. Her bare feet kicked at the grass as she walked. The night was growing chilly. She might be cold.

“Do you want me to carry you so your feet aren’t in the grass?” he asked.

She glared at him and her attitude was back when she said, “No.”

“Do you want my jacket? You look cold.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Okay.” They walked for another few minutes in silence, then she started shivering. “Still rather freeze than forgo your pride?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“Sure. Is it hard work?”

“What?” she snapped at him.

“Being such a brat all the time? Not giving in to anything or anyone ever? Always having to fight? Is it hard?”

She walked faster and crossed her arms tighter over her chest. His stride easily matched hers. He needed to stay close and be within a few feet of her at all times. That was the job. If she kept trying to get away from him, he’d even drag her into the bathroom with him. She might love that.

“Is it hard being such a jerk all the time?” she asked after a long while.

“Did it take you this whole time to come up with that?”

“See what I mean? Jerk. All the time. How does anyone put up with you? Oh, right. They don’t, because you spend all your time chasing after me. You’re pathetic.”

“Well, that answers my question, then.” He nodded to himself. He was getting to her. He could hear it in her voice.

“What question?”

“It’s exhausting trying to be so fake. It takes so much of your time and effort that it consumes you. It’s all you think about. How to be better and bigger than the next person so you don’t feel so small.”

“I don’t feel small. I don’t think you even realize who I am in this world.”

“Oh, I do. You’re a scared little girl who has to hide behind her name and her money to get people to like her. How many people have ever liked the real you?”

The house was in view now. She broke into a run, her bare feet sending gravel flying out behind her. His mouth pulled into a half smile as he broke into a jog to catch up to her. He’d gotten to her. Definitely. Struck a chord loud and clear. It was just a matter of time before he cracked her wide open.

After her stupid encounter with Ryder, she went back inside and tried to talk to her dad.

“But he’s mean to me!” she shouted at him.

Ryder had stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching as he was being paid to do.

Matteo looked at Ryder and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure he’ll be nothing but nice from now on.”

“Sure,” Ryder said. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“There, see?” Matteo said.

But that wasn’t enough. “Daddy, you don’t understand. He said horrible things. He called me rich and spoiled and said I was fake and had to hide behind my name and money.”

“Well…” Matteo crossed his arms. “He’s entitled to his opinion, I suppose. Pia, just don’t talk to him. He’s there to protect you, and he’s the best I have. I’m not going to put you in danger or assign someone less skilled to you just because you got your feelings hurt. Do you understand that you were almost kidnapped today? Do you have any idea what could be happening to you right now if Ryder hadn’t jumped in to save you? Did you even thank him?”

She shot a hateful look over at Ryder. Thank him? For being so late the guy almost took her? For letting him get away with it? “I’m not going to thank him. The guy got away and he almost had me. Besides, it wasn’t like I came out of it unharmed. My knee was bleeding and all my clothes are ruined, and do you know what kind of emotional damage I faced? This could take months of therapy to get over.”

“Then we’ll get you the best therapist around,” Matteo said. He came to her and kissed her forehead. “You are too important to me to take any risks. I’m sorry. Just ignore him and I’m sure he’ll do the same. He’s there to protect you, not be your friend. You don’t have to talk to him.”

It seemed like nothing she did was going to work. She’d need a more solid way to get him fired if she wanted to be rid of him for good.

She stormed up to her room and slammed the door shut before locking it. A minute later, there was a knock.

“What?” she said.

“It’s Ryder. My room is right next door, so if something happens or you need me, just knock or scream.”

“Right.”

She stood in her huge walk-in closet and carefully removed and put away her jewelry. She owned a massive collection of earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets, but she never seemed to have enough. Tonight, as she took off each piece, she inspected it more carefully than usual. She always checked her pieces for any signs of wear or damage. The instant a stone was scratched or went missing, or some of the finish faded, she’d get rid of it. Usually one of the maids or other servants would drool over it and she’d give it to them to keep them happy. They usually did an extra good job on her room because of it.

Tonight, when she looked at her ring, she saw several scrapes in the metal band. The ring was a large, flat black stone surrounded by gold. The band that held it to her finger must have been damaged when she fell. She had put her hand on the ground on the pavement, and that must have been when the scratches happened. She set the ring aside. Tomorrow, she’d think about who would be best to receive this gift. Who would benefit her the most to have it?

Luckily, the rest of her jewelry looked to be still in the perfect condition it had been in when she put it on that morning. She pouted at herself when she undressed in front of her mirror. The whole outfit, trash. She peeled off the sweater and looked at the dirt stains on the back and sleeves. Her jeans, of course, were shredded in one knee. Maybe some girls were into that look, but unless they were made to be that way, there was no way she was going out of the house wearing damaged Givenchy jeans. No way. She didn’t even know what had happened to the shoes she’d discarded. Someone had probably thrown them out already.

She wanted to cry over the shoes and her jeans. It was over two thousand dollars' worth of clothing that she would never get to wear again. The sweater was a disappointment, but she adored those rare shoes. No one had them, and she’d made a lot of women jealous because they couldn’t get them. And those jeans. They fit so perfectly. It was only the second time she’d worn them.

Her knee hurt. Once she was in just her underwear, she’d gone to her bathroom and taken a soft washcloth to her knee, dabbing the blood away. Then she’d put on her silk robe and gone to find one of the housekeepers who was good at medical stuff.

“Francesca, I need you to fix my knee,” Pia said to her, pouting.

Francesca was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for tomorrow’s meals. She put down her peeler, wiped her hands, and bent down to look. “What happened, Miss Pia?”

“A horrible man attacked me. I was almost kidnapped.”

“Oh my, that’s terrible.”

“Oh, yes,” Pia said dramatically. “It really was. I think I’m still in shock. I almost died tonight.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry.” Francesca went to the sink and washed her hands. “I’ll get the ointment and a Band-Aid.”

“Do you think it will scar?”

“No, no. It’s just a scrape.”

Pia huffed. “Just a scrape? It ruined my jeans! I had to throw them out.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Miss Pia. I just meant that it’s not deep enough to leave a scar. And it won’t need stitches.”

“Good.”

“We’ll get you fixed right up. Want to come into the hall bathroom with me?”

Pia followed Francesca into the hall bathroom and sat on the toilet seat while Francesca took items out of the cabinet. She first rubbed a cleaning pad over it. It stung a bit and Pia flinched, but Francesca blew on it and it felt a little better. Then she smeared some ointment on and covered it with a Band-Aid.

“How long does it need to stay on?” Pia asked. “I won’t be able to leave the house with it like this.”

“Oh, I think by tomorrow you might have a scab.”

“A scab?” Pia groaned. “This is horrible.”

“I think it will be healed up in a day or so. No need to worry. Get plenty of rest tonight.”

“Thank you, Francesca.”

Pia had walked back upstairs, feeling the Band-Aid move strangely against her knee with every bend and straighten. What an ass that guy was. And Ryder had just let him go. He was probably at home right now in his bed, sleeping away with no cares in the world. Here she was, injury on her knee, having to deal with a wardrobe decimation and now Ryder following her everywhere.

Where was he anyway? Hadn’t he noticed that she’d come out of her room? Wasn’t he supposed to be following her every move?

When she got back to her door, he opened his and stuck his head out. “Is your knee all better now?”

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why do you ask?”

“Francesca just fixed it up for you.”

“How did you know that?”

He smirked. “Really? As much as you know, you don’t know there are camera all over this house?”

She knew there were some, but she had to admit, she didn’t know the extent of them. When she’d found out they were being installed, all she’d cared about was that they weren’t in her room.

“Great. So you just sit in your room watching me on camera?”

“Would you rather I follow you around everywhere?”

“Definitely not.”

“Okay then.” He pulled his head back and closed his door.

She walked into her room and went through her evening ritual. Brushing her teeth and her hair, washing her face, moisturizing, applying eye cream and pimple cream and wrinkle cream. Then she rubbed lotion all over her skin, gave her feet a thorough washing and exfoliating, then slipped on the yoga pants and t-shirt that she usually slept in.

When she got into bed, her soothing eye mask over her eyes, she couldn’t make her head stop racing. It kept replaying the day. The feeling of the man grabbing her from behind, his rough hand on her mouth. Seeing Ryder jump in to save her. Then everything horrible he’d said to her all night. And everything horrible she’d said to him.

It was like a crappy song stuck on repeat. She wanted to advance it or shut it off so she could go to sleep. She kept seeing Ryder’s face, remembering how his body had felt pressed against hers. How he’d almost kissed her. He had almost kissed her, right? She hadn’t just imagined that?

Stranger, though, was that she wanted him to. Something about him turned her on. He was so far from her usual type. She liked clean cut, wealthy men from a decent upbringing. Someone with manners and class. Someone so far from what Ryder was that they weren’t even comparable. Ryder was broke, rude, dirty and scruffy looking, and who knew who his family were. Yet, the way he’d grabbed her and pressed her against the stables…she’d never been turned on like that before.

The other men she’d slept with had been fine enough. It was a decent time. Nothing life shattering by any means. But nice enough. With Ryder, though, just the thought of him made her wet. She had never felt that way about anyone before. Usually, she got off more on how badly they wanted her, how they’d beg to be let inside her tight little body. But Ryder? He wouldn’t beg her. He’d probably almost force his way in. And that thought excited her even more.

Her wired up brain jumped into fantasy mode. She imagined him pressing her against the stables, but this time ripping her shirt off. Or saw him driving her somewhere, then pulling over and jumping into the backseat where she was. Or following her into a room and bending her over a table. Or coming into her room while she slept and surprising her.

She’d gotten herself so excited, she did something she rarely found the need for. She touched herself. Once the rush of pleasure took over her, she got up and washed, then tried again to go to sleep after drinking some water. But she still tossed and turned. Maybe she needed something stronger than water.

Usually, red wine made her sleepy. She preferred white for that reason and she had to be careful if the occasion called for red, not to drink too much. She’d almost fallen asleep at a boring dinner party once, years ago, and her father had scolded her for it. But tonight, it would be perfect. Just one glass. Enough to make her sleepy and shut up her mind.

She padded softly down the hallway, pausing to look back at Ryder’s door before going downstairs. Was he asleep? Or was he watching her right now? She wished she still had her panties and bra on under her robe instead of this t-shirt and yoga pants. What was she thinking wearing this out of her room? She’d go shopping tomorrow for some cute nighties. Who cared if everyone said cotton sleepwear was better for your skin. She had to look cute at all times now. Especially if she wanted to trick herself into thinking any of her fantasies could come true.

Her feet hit the tile floor of the kitchen. She looked up, shocked to find someone standing there, leaning against the island counter, looking at her.

“Aren’t you missing out on your beauty sleep right now?” Ryder asked.

He was shirtless. Her eyes traveled over the bulges of muscles on his chest and stomach without her even thinking about what she was doing. He wore only boxers, his legs thick and dark under them. He was like a solid piece of rock, and she wanted to dig her fingers into him.

“It’s not sleep that makes me so beautiful,” she said.

“Then what is it? Cosmetic surgery?”

She glared and reached up to get a wine glass. She couldn’t reach easily and as she stretched on her tiptoes, Ryder came over and grabbed the glass to hand it to her. His body was so close when he did, that he brushed against her, sending heat rushing over her skin.

She snatched the glass from his hand. “What are you doing down here anyway, in
my
kitchen?”

“It’s your father’s kitchen, first of all. You’ve paid for nothing in this house. And second of all, I’m staying here for as long as I’m stuck watching you, so it’s my kitchen for now.”