Page 13 of Ruthless Obsession (Royal Bastards MC Chicago, IL Chapter)

SOPHIE

I still can’t believe that arrogant, possessive biker had the nerve to lock me in a fucking cell—for four days.

Four.

Fucking.

Days.

Today, he just waltzes into the torture chamber to collect me like he did nothing wrong.

He deserved that kick to the chest for leaving me locked in his personal jail cell.

When he caught me trying to escape and kissed me, then pulled me up into his arms I thought he’d take me to bed, and we’d cuddle.

He tricked me and held me captive in his basement.

A part of me is happy he came for me. I just thought he’d come sooner. Like later that evening. But when I saw Tonya I knew he wasn’t coming. It hurt. It hurt so badly knowing he threw me away.

Deep down I knew he locked me up not just for attempting to run but because he truly wants me in his life.

Mavis was clearly in pain, and he still bathed me and washed my hair. His strong fingertips working my scalp felt amazing.

But I couldn’t let him see how badly I needed him just then. How much that touch undid me.

Now, I sit in the steaming bath I dreamed about from the moment I was thrown into that cell. My body aches like hell. My limbs are sore, my arms weak, and my ass? Feels like someone beat it with a hammer. Numb after night one. But at least here, in this heat, I can pretend it’s fading.

Why didn’t Tonya tell me he was hurt? He looked pale, unsteady. Bandages wrapped around his side. And still… he came for me.

Almost an hour later, I finally climb out of the tub and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look darker, more hollow than I remember. My curly hair is piled into a bun, conditioner still soaking in. I wrap the towel around my body and step out of the bathroom.

A neat stack of clothes waits on a plush gray chair.

On top. One of his t-shirts.

I glare at the sleeping beast on the bed. Still wearing those soaked shorts like the stubborn biker he is.

No way in hell I’m wearing his shirt.

I find clothes in the closet I’d gotten off the rack. I slip into a pair of lavender leggings and a yellow tank top. Naturally, my hand curls around my wrist where the zip tie was.

When I emerge from the closet, he’s still asleep.

Good.

I step out his bedroom and close the door behind me.

A part of me doesn’t want to leave him. I can tell he’s really going through it.

I peer over the balcony. Legos has his arm wrapped around Tonya.

He stares at her lovingly while her fingers twist in his long black strands.

He’s so intimidating. Who would’ve guessed a man like that could find love?

“Sophie, you, ok?” Tonya asks glancing up at me.

“Yes,” I’m going to sleep.”

I continue down the hallway and into a spacious guest bedroom.

“Sophie?” I turn to the voice.

“Yes?”

“I warmed up some chicken noodle soup.” Tonya held out the bowl. “I remember you spit it onto the floor the other day.”

The scent hits me instantly—comforting, rich, warm. I had refused to eat it before, not because it tasted bad. It was actually amazing. But I was pissed. Stubborn.

“Thank you,” I murmur, lifting the bowl to my nose, letting the steam roll over my face like a balm.

“You might be the first person who’s ever hated my cooking. The guys at the clubhouse lick their plates clean.”

“Tonya, I could’ve cooked.”

“Could we trust you not to poison us, then sneak out the back?” Her voice is dry, but her eyes are serious.

“I told you how he felt about you upfront. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me. For, what, the hundredth time in the past four days.” I set the bowl and spoon on the nightstand and sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was hurt?” I feel the tears biting the backs of my eyes.

“You were so pissed at him I didn’t think you cared.”

“Tonya, it’s hard to like a person who holds you at gun point and locks you up.”

She sighs and visibly swallows. Tears pool in her eyes. “When Webbs and Flock opened the door to the mudroom I gasped. Blood was pouring from the gunshot wound. He yelled Sophie! Sophie.”

My heart aches.

“He wanted you. Needed you. It was touch and go for days. But the second he could walk on his own he went straight to you. I don’t think he ever wanted to lock you in that basement. And I know he didn’t want to leave you there that long.”

I look away, blinking hard. My chest aches. He almost died .

“Thanks, Tonya… for being here. For me. And for Mavis.”

She pulls me into a hug. “Eat and relax.”

I squeeze her back. “I will.”

Tonya releases me, walks out, and closes the door behind her.

I sink on the bed and shove a spoonful of the chicken noodle soup into my mouth. My eyes roll in the back of my head. This is the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had.

I ponder on her words. He called my name after he’d been shot. How can I stay mad at him? I don’t know.

Twenty minutes later, I’m resting under the blanket. The air-conditioning has to be set on North Pole cold.

Tonya’s done enough. I’ll wake up in an hour and check on him. I can help Mavis.

Deep down I want him near. I long to smell his scent. What’s wrong with me? Am I falling for my captor.

∞

I stand at the side of Mavis’s bed, reading the labels on the medication bottles lined up on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep as his eyes slowly blink open.

“Just looking,” I say flatly.

My gaze sharpens. “Why were you in my room last night?”

“You know why,” he replies, voice scratchy but sure.

“Oh, right. You decided to crash in the chair instead of my bed so I wouldn’t knee you in your gunshot wound?”

“If you’re not here to take care of me, leave,” he mutters, sitting up and planting his feet on the floor. He sucks in a breath as he tries to stand.

Without thinking, I reach for his arm and steady him. “Don’t be stupid,” I snap. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he growls—but he leans into me anyway as I guide him toward the bathroom.

His blond hair is a mess, like he’s been dragging his hands through it all night. He hisses as he clutches his side. Seeing this powerful, unbreakable man—reduced, vulnerable—makes my chest tighten. I shouldn’t care. He held me captive in a jail cell. But damn it, I do.

I grab his toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste across the bristles. Same thing he did for me yesterday. We move around each other in silence, but I feel his eyes tracking me like I’m the only thing that exists in the room.

As he brushes, I pour mouthwash into one of the little white paper cups. Then I turn on the shower. The water starts to steam.

I’m wearing a tank top and bed shorts, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Before I came to his bedroom, I’d already showered in the guest suite bathroom.

Last night, Mavis was sleeping in the chair in my bedroom. I know much of the pain he’s in is because he slept in the chair.

He drops his shorts on the floor outside the shower glass door.

Stiff. Long. Thick.

Is he just hard because it’s the morning? Or because he’s in my presence.

He steps into the shower and sits on the bench, and I focus on the task at hand.

I gently wash his battered, tattooed body, careful not to disturb the bandage.

But the temptation is brutal. His cock’s standing at attention, and he knows damn well what he’s doing to me.

His smug smirk is all the confirmation I need.

Later in the day, I cook dinner for everyone. I take small bites of the parmesan crusted chicken, cauliflower, and roasted potatoes in front of Tonya so she can see I’m not trying to kill them.

I set Mavis up on the U-shaped Sofa, placing a pillow behind his head. He takes a few bites of food, then falls asleep at my side.

“Legos, I understand you’re an expert at stacking bodies like Legos.” I smile before pushing more food into my mouth.

Tonya’s jaw slacks. “What the fuck?” she mouths.

“Is Mavis pillow talking at night?” he asks.

“Yes,” I chuckle.

“Don’t tell people I pillow talk,” Mavis murmurs as his hand slides over my knee.

I don’t push it away. It seems his meds are making him drowsy and handsy.

Nothing I’m not used to with him. The man loves to cuddle.

It was odd being held by a stranger. At the same time, it felt comforting.

Mavis has that way about him. The big sexy biker who showed me his dick the first day we met. But I don’t like bikers. Not anymore.

“I have a special way of stacking things up when my brothers and I run into trouble,” Legos says.

Tonya peeks at me and mouths, “Thank you,” as her hand runs along Lego's inner thigh.

“Dinner was delicious,” Lego adds.

“Thank you.” I smile.

I stand and grab the empty dishes.

“Sophie, I’ll eat mine later,” Mavis says, his voice low.

“Mavis, I’ll help you upstairs,” Tonya offers, rising to her feet.

“Relax with Legos. I’ve got him,” I say, not looking at either of them.

“Your bed,” Mavis mutters under his breath.

“No, Mavis—we are not sleeping in the same bed.”

Tonya and Legos watch us intently.

His eyes pop open. “What are you going to do put me out of your room again, captive,” he grits out.

“This time I’m locking the door,” I yell.

“Sweetheart, keep it up and I’ll lock you in my room.”

I slam the plates together in the stack, the clatter echoing off the walls. “You locked me in a fucking jail cell, Mavis. And now I’m supposed to forget that, let you kiss me, and sleep next to me. Fuck no, asshole.”

“Asshole? Whoa,” Lego’s laughs.

“You got your hands full there, Ruthless,” Lego chuckles.

I stalk toward the kitchen and glare over my shoulder. Mavis attempts to rise.

“Don’t even think about it,” I snap. “I’ll help you into bed and that’s it.”

In the kitchen, I pause, chest heaving. I place the dishes in the sink with a little more force than necessary, take a breath, and load the dishwasher like it personally insulted me.

When I exit the kitchen, I notice Tonya helping Mavis up the stairs. I walk toward them.

“Tonya, I got him,” I say.