Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  I look at her in silence, and she meets my steady gaze. I call her wife, and yet we’re as unalike as two people could be, as well as total strangers. At least I think so. The truth is, I don’t know anything about her.

  Well, that’s easy enough to remedy. But not until I’ve put some damn food in me.

  “Are you always angry?” she asks.

  I look at her in surprise, because the question actually gives me pause. Her question doesn’t anger me. It’s honest, and not necessarily disrespectful. I’ll have questions for her, too.

  “No,” I tell her. “Though as pakhan, much responsibility falls on my shoulders. I don’t like when I give an instruction and it isn’t obeyed. I expect those who are under my authority to do what they’re told.”

  “Clearly,” she mutters.

  “Clearly,” I repeat. “When that doesn’t happen, I do get angry. But that isn’t a constant.”

  “Good to know,” she mutters, pursing her lips and looking away.

  “When we get back to Boston, you’ll have duties as wife to the pakhan. To begin, you’ll see someone who will help prepare you for the day,” I tell her. “As my wife, you must be presentable at all times.”

  She purses her lips but doesn’t say anything.

  “My men are trained to obey, and each of them demands obedience from his partner. They will expect that you have learned to obey me. Do you understand that?”

  “Yeah,” she says, but a sharp look makes her amend herself. “Yes, of course.”

  Perhaps we’ll join them for breakfast after all. It will be what they call an “educational opportunity.”

  “So we begin today,” I tell her, rising to my feet. “Take my hand and join me for breakfast.”

  We go to the door and she actually giggles to herself.

  “What?” I ask her. “Something amusing?”

  But she shakes her head and won’t tell me, trying to sober, but the corners of her lips tug upward.

  “Caroline,” I prod. “Tell me.”

  “Fine,” she says with a sigh. “You’re just like the beast,” she says. “Join me for dinner, rawr.”

  The beast? Who the fuck is the beast? Her comparison annoys me, even if I am secretly pleased that she’s amused.

  “Did the beast whip his pretty little wife’s ass?” I ask pleasantly, and she quickly sobers then sighs.

  “That I don’t know,” she mutters.

  We walk in silence to the dining room, her little hand tucked into mine. When we arrive, Marissa and Nicolai are sitting at a small, circular table nearby. He nods, and Marissa stands to greet us.

  Caroline flushes when Marissa gives her a quick hug and a probing look, as if to see if I’ve abused my new wife. Nicolai clears his throat and pulls Marissa’s hand to make her sit.

  The waitstaff brings us bacon, eggs, and toast. I allow Caroline to take her own place, and she quietly eats.

  “Hungry?” I ask curiously as she polishes her plate off.

  “Starving,” she says, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “And that was delicious.”

  “Did they not feed you well in your home?” I ask, finishing my own breakfast.

  The question brings a fire to her eyes once more. “Clearly, I’m not underfed.”

  Oh, no, we won’t go there.

  “I only meant were you hungry before you came?” My tone is hard, commanding, reminding her not to get snappy with me and I hate when she makes deprecating remarks about her body.

  She merely shrugs. “It wasn’t that,” she says. “But I preferred being in the kitchen than out of it. And there were people I didn’t want to see, so I—” Then it’s like someone flicks a switch. Her eyes shudder and her lips clamp shut. I look at her in surprise. What caused such a drastic response from her? “I preferred being in the kitchen,” she repeats.

  I nod, lift my hand, and order more food. “Do you?” I ask. “Do you know how to cook?”

  She snorts out loud. “Know how to cook? Yes, certainly, though my brother hated if I spent time in the kitchen. Still, I learned from the best.” For the very first time, her eyes light up and she clasps her hands beneath her chin. “I was passionate about it,” she explains. She doesn’t need to tell me. I can tell just from the light in her eyes.

  “I see,” I tell her with a nod. “Perhaps you can work with our chefs back in Boston.”

  She’s holding the crust of a piece of toast when she freezes, the food halfway to her mouth. She swallows hard.

  “You’d let me do that?”

  Some choose to train with a stick, others with a carrot. I choose both.

  “If you learn to behave, there are many things I’d allow you to do.”

  If she knows she can pursue what she calls her “passion,” perhaps training her will go easier on the both of us with one contingency: she needs to prove she’ll do as I say.

  Marissa watches us keenly from where she sits, pretending she isn’t listening to every word we say, so it comes as no surprise that when we rise, she leans over to talk to Nicolai and says something. He’s staring at his phone frowning and nods absentmindedly for her to go. I watch her curiously as I take Caroline’s hand and lead her out of the dining room. I’d bet money that she’s up to no good.

  Nicolai stands and gestures for me to wait. “I’ll see you off,” he says. “I need to take a call. You good, brother?”

  I nod. He kisses Marissa on the cheek then leaves abruptly. Marissa follows behind us. She has something to say to me.

  “Go ahead of me,” I tell Caroline. She nods and does what I say. Marissa immediately pounces when Caroline is several paces ahead.

  “You have to woo her, you know,” she says, giving me a piercing look. Honest to God, Nicolai needs to keep a better handle on his wife. If she were mine…

  “I don’t need your advice, Marissa,” I tell her. “Mind your own fucking business.”

  “This is my business,” she says, then to my shock, she grabs my arm to stop me. “Let me ask you a question, Tomas.”

  I will have to talk to Nicolai. She oversteps.

  “Go on,” I spit out, not even bothering to attempt to hide my anger.

  “Would you prefer to be wedded to a woman who adores the ground you walk on? Who does what you ask without question, because she’s eager to please you? Or would you prefer to be married to a cold, detached woman who only does what you say out of fear of punishment?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” I tell her honestly. “All I care about is that she obeys me.”

  Her eyes cloud and she purses her lips. “That isn’t true, and you know it. If you’d only take the time to really win her, to really get to know who she is and how she ticks, you may find that she is far easier to get along with than if you force her hand.”

  “I don’t remember asking you,” I tell her, pulling away. “Now no more of this or I’ll call Nicolai.”

  “Just think about it!” she yells down the hall as I march toward my wife. “Please, just think about it.”

  And dammit, I can’t help but do just that.

  Goddamn Marissa.

  Chapter 6

  Caroline

  I have no idea what Marissa said to him, but his eyes are narrow and that stern brow of his is drawn when he takes my arm, firmer than before. “I’ve ordered our bags taken to the car,” he says. “We’ve got a ride to the airport.”

  “Yes. What was she saying to you?”

  His lips thin and his jaw firms, and a cloud passes over his features. “None of your business.”

  “Alrighty then,” I mutter. This guy is a barrel of laughs. I’ve had the briefest moments of fleeting thoughts that I might actually learn to fall for him one day… a little. He’s hot as hell, and maybe will make a devoted husband. And hell, the way he commands my body with the faintest touch or wisp of seduction.

  But just as soon as the idea comes to me, I dismiss it.

  There’s no way I’ll fall for a man like him. He’s a veritable
caveman like my brother, and I despise my brother almost as much as Andros.

  I barely even see where we’re going until I realize we’re exiting, and a car idles at the curb waiting for us.

  “Tomas!” One of the men who was in the dining room earlier stands nearby, his phone up to his ear. He shuts it off and gestures for Tomas to join him.

  “Stay here,” he orders. And then he’s gone, though not far.

  I wonder what Boston will be like. I’ve always wanted to visit but I’ve never been allowed to leave our home in San Diego. I wonder how much Tomas will allow me to explore.

  I sigh and close my eyes, leaning against the car, as Tomas speaks to his friend, willing myself to be anywhere but here. I hate being out of control like this and at the mercy of another. It grates against everything I stand for. I start when I hear footsteps approach, and step instinctively closer to the door of the car when I see it isn’t Tomas but one of my brother’s men.

  I know instinctively that Tomas considers me his, now, and will not take kindly to anyone speaking to me. But he’s deep in conversation with his friend, his back to us, and doesn’t notice. “Get away,” I say.

  “There you are,” he says, ignoring me. I don’t even know this one’s name. A newer recruit, he works under Andros, but that’s all I know about him. He’s thin and lithe with oily blond hair and a scraggly beard, his green eyes both hungry and beady. I wonder what he’s doing here. I don’t know all the ways of the Bratva, how the others should treat a man of a leader, but I know he shouldn’t be here. He’s bold as hell coming anywhere near me.

  “Andros wants a picture,” he says.

  “Tell him to go to hell. I’m married now.” It’s the first time since I took my vows that I actually feel almost pleased to say this.

  But the man pulls out a phone and flicks it on, then raises it. The son of a bitch isn’t giving anything to Andros. On instinct I flip him off. Instantly, he turns livid, his eyes narrowed in anger and he launches at me, his fist raised. I cringe and scream blocking my face, prepared for the attack.

  “You stupid bitch,” he growls. “Think you have the right to—”

  But he doesn’t get any further when he’s lifted straight in the air and away from me. I gasp when he howls and flails, until I see Tomas’ furious face. In a second, the body of my assailant flies into the air in an arc before he lands in a sickening thump on the ground. Tomas steps over to him and kicks him viciously. I wince when he places his boot on the man’s neck.

  “Tell me what he did, Caroline,” Tomas says evenly before he drags the guy up off the ground. He holds him by the back of the shirt, dangling like a piece of clothing hung on a line. This time it’s an easy matter to do what my husband says.

  “He demanded a picture for my brother’s friend,” I say, my voice shaking but determined. “When I told him no and flipped him off, he tried to hit me.”

  Tomas grows deadly quiet, the only indication he’s breathing at all his flared nostrils. I haven’t known him for long but already know that the stillness means danger for the man on the ground. In the background, Nicolai stands with narrowed eyes, a weapon drawn, and a few paces away, I see the man who officiated at our ceremony watching as well. Tomas takes a deep breath in then lets it out and pulls his gun from his pocket. He eyes the man on the ground.

  They speak in Russian. Tomas yanks the man’s phone out of his pocket and tosses it to me. I catch it mid-air.

  “Call your brother on video chat,” he orders. My hands shaking, I obey. Aren picks up on the second ring, glaring into the camera.

  “Caroline? What the fuck? You stupid bitch—”

  It’s like their pet name for me. I clench the phone so hard my knuckles whiten. When Tomas’ furious gaze lands on me, he signals for me to train the camera on him.

  “I’ll tell you what the fuck,” Tomas says furiously. “I married your sister yesterday. And one of your men tried to attack her today. Why he thought it wise to come within a mile of her makes no sense, but I thought you’d want to heed my warning.” He cocks his gun and bends, pointing it at the back of the man’s head. The guy he’s got pinned starts crying like a baby, and it sickens me. He knows with one pull of a trigger, he’s dead. “If any of your men ever come within a mile of her, I’ll kill them. Do you understand me?”

  My heart begins to beat more rapidly. He won’t allow any of them near me. That includes Andros.

  And if I’m honest, I want Andros to disobey, if only to give Tomas a reason to make good on his promise.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry,” he says. “I have no idea what he was doing or why he was anywhere near her.”

  “I do,” I bite out. Tomas looks to me, his hand on the gun shaking with rage.

  “Andros sent him,” I say to Aren. Aren’s eyes narrow on me, but he doesn’t respond, well aware my bear of a husband stands just paces away.

  Then my brother is apologizing, bending over backwards to tell Tomas he had nothing to do with it. This is a side of him I’ve never seen, and I’m a little in awe that he cows so easily to Tomas. Clearly, there’s much at stake here. He gave me to Tomas for a reason, and he doesn’t want to incur Tomas’ wrath.

  “Would you like me to do you a favor, then?” Tomas asks. “I’m happy to pull this trigger.”

  The man on the ground whimpers, his eyes shut, and he begs for mercy.

  “No?” Tomas shakes his head. “That’s a shame. But I’ll honor that as long as you make it clear to your men that your sister belongs to me. Also?” He turns the full force of his glare to my brother. “You ever call your sister a stupid bitch again, I’ll personally fly to San Diego and you’ll deal with me. You’ll treat my wife with respect or suffer the consequences.”

  He gestures for me to hand him the phone, puts his gun away, then lifts the guy on the ground up by the shirt. He may not have shot him, but this is far from over. Tomas rears back and hits the man so hard in the jaw I can hear bone snap. Then knees the man so harshly I wince and begin to cry as he unleashes the full punishing power of his fists. I can’t look. It’s brutal and savage and terrifying. I scream and cover my mouth with my hands when strong arms pull me away, turning me from the brutal scene. Nicolai pulls me away, shielding me from the beating. He brings me over to the waiting car, but I can hear Tomas from where I am.

  “I hope you never forget my face. I hope you fucking know who you crossed today.”

  Opening the door, Nicolai shoves me in and locks the door. I cover my face with my hands, my emotions tight and unchecked.

  He’s vicious. Savage, even. But hell, I need a savage in my court, and Christ is he ever. The way he told my brother to respect me…

  I roll down the window with shaking hands, needing to see what happens next. Nicolai’s on the phone, issuing sharp commands, and within a minute, several large SUV’s pull up to where we stand. To my shock, Tomas comes to me, yanks open the door, and pulls me out. His fists are covered in blood when he grabs my arm, fingerprint splotches of blood painting my pale skin. I yield to him, allowing him to drag me around and yank me to his chest.

  Somehow, I intuitively know he needs this. He needs me. He captures my mouth in a hard kiss, his blood-stained fingers slipping on my chin as he grips me so hard, he’ll leave marks. He’s holding my face to his with one hand while his second hand is raised with his phone.

  I blink when he releases me. He took a selfie?

  Then a second later, I understand why. He nods to Nicolai.

  “Sending you a picture of me and my wife. Make sure you release that to every fucking Bratva in America and beyond. Tell them that the woman who was Caroline Koslov no longer bears her brother’s name.” He pauses, and there’s a note of raw pride in his voice when he continues. “She is now Caroline Dobrynin. My wife.”

  Chapter 8

  Tomas

  I swear I don’t even see straight as we drive to the airport, my vision still blurred with rage. I’m thankful we have a driver, because I wouldn’t trust
myself to drive right now. I’m shaking, still. I regret that I didn’t put a bullet in that man’s head. If given the chance again, I won’t hesitate.

  It takes me a minute to realize that she’s unfastened her belt and come around to sit beside me.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” I order. “It’s dangerous to drive without one.”

  She holds my gaze for a moment before she obeys with trembling hands and looks away. Caroline is no submissive, but I think she’s a little shell-shocked. I gentle my voice.

  “Caroline, look at me.”

  She brings her large eyes to mine, wide and fearful, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “This is a brutal world,” she says in a whisper. “And I will never get used to it.”

  I run my thumb along her tears and drag the wet to the splash of blood on her chin, using the salty water to clean her. I press a button on the door. “Do you have anything at all I can use to clean up?” I ask the driver.

  “Certainly, sir.” Through the opening between the back and front seat, he lowers the divider and hands me a small package of wipes. He’d probably have a sewing kit, breath mints, and a safety pin if I asked him.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, hitting the privacy screen button so we’re alone again. But before I can open the package, she reaches over and takes it from me, tears open the top, and yanks out a few damp wipes. Taking my bloodied hand in both of hers, she wipes the red off of me. I watch, mesmerized, as the white towelette becomes stained in pink.

  “This is a brutal world,” I agree, using the very words she did. “And I don’t ever want you to get used to it.”

  She looks up in surprise, then looks away again, finishing cleaning one hand before she takes the second in both of hers. I like the feel of my rough hands in her softer, gentler ones. I can’t remember anyone holding my hands like this, and it seems fitting the first person to do so is the woman I’ve taken as wife.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, as she rubs a clean wipe along my skin, wiping away the traces of the brutal beating I just administered.

  I’d fucking do it again.

  “If you grow used to violence, you become complacent,” I tell her. “I fight hard to let the violence sharpen me, not dull me.” I sigh. “Believe it or not, Caroline, I’m not typically a violent man.”