by Jane Henry
To my surprise she actually giggles at that, and it’s the prettiest little sound I’ve ever heard. It cuts through the tension, and I feel the lines around my mouth softening a bit.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No,” she says again. “You’re the beast, remember?” Her eyes come to mine, so beautiful and momentarily trusting. “You have fits of rage like he does, but deep inside I wonder if you’re as tender as he is.”
I roll my eyes. “Fairy tales,” I mutter. “I have no time for that, and I’m not sure I like being called a beast.”
But she’s still holding my hand and gets my attention with a firm tug. I look back to her. She’s grown serious now, her luminous eyes wide and sincere. “Fairy tales are the dreams we grew up with,” she says. “And though real life isn’t a fairy tale, there are parallels we can all draw from.”
I’m tempted to roll my eyes again, but she’s so sincere I can’t bring myself to do it. “Fair enough,” I mutter, which makes her laugh again. I’m not sure what she finds so amusing, but I enjoy her laughter. It loosens something in me. “It will be rare for you to see me enact violence as I did today,” I tell her. “I have men who work as my strike force. And if I do have to punish someone personally, I’ll do my best to keep you apart from it.” Then my stomach tightens. “Unless someone threatens your safety again.”
I don’t realize I’ve clenched my hand into a fist until she winces, her fingers trapped in my grasp. I release her so quickly her hand falls to my lap. I take the wipes from her and remove one before I dab her chin, then clean her off in silence. She sits still, allowing me.
“Or unless I’m the person you’re punishing,” she says, casting me a look through lowered lashes that’s at once fetching and coy. My cock tightens, my pulse throbbing at the thought of her earning a real punishment. Though I want her obedience, a part of me hopes she gives me reason to administer punishment. Pleasure and pain, dominance and submission, the need to control and master fuels me. Deeply erotic. Intoxicating. Dangerous, if not consumed in moderation.
I swallow hard, needing to both change the subject and find answers to what troubles me. “Tell me, Caroline,” I say, making sure there’s both command and sympathy in my voice. I want her obedience and even her fear but finding the answers to the questions I have are crucial. If I push too hard, she’ll hide from me.
I wait until I’ve captured her gaze and she drops my hand. We’re sitting so close in the small, intimate interior of the car that our knees brush.
“Yes?” she asks. Her chin quivers. She knows I’m going to ask her things she doesn’t want to answer.
“What’s your brother like?”
Her startled blink tells me she didn’t expect me to start there, but I need to know who he is and what fuels him.
Her frank expression tells me she hides nothing when she replies. “My brother,” she says with a bitter note in her tone. “Is a complete and utter asshole.”
I’m not surprised, but it isn’t enough of an answer.
“Tell me more.” Though he’s below me by quite a bit in rank in the Bratva, his rank within his own brotherhood gives him power and prestige. His position is something I need to be wary of.
“He is the type that preys on the innocent,” she says. “A bully, as it were. When he was a child, he found a cruel man who lived nearby that bred his dogs and sold the puppies for profit. My brother’s favorite pastime was taking the pups that didn’t sell and drowning them to earn pocket money.”
I listen without comment, allowing her to continue. “He will do anything and everything to earn more power in the brotherhood, even if it means selling out his own brothers.” She laughs mirthlessly. “Or sister.”
I nod. “Did he treat you poorly?”
Holding my eyes, she nods. “He did.” But she says nothing more.
I note this with calculating precision. He’s given me no reason to get on a plane and hunt him down, not, at least, according to protocol. When he mistreated her, she didn’t belong to me. That said, I’ll find a reason to seek retribution for what he’s done.
“Why did one of your brother’s men wish to take a picture of you?”
At first, she doesn’t answer, worrying her lip as she gazes out the tinted window, muted houses and buildings flitting past us as we drive on.
“For Andros,” she whispers. At the paper-thin skin at her temple, a tiny light blue vein throbs. Her voice shakes, but she continues despite her evident pain in discussing this with me. “Andros will not like that I’m gone. My brother didn’t tell him until the last minute, and he made sure Andros was not one of the men who brought me here.”
“Who is Andros?”
Her answer is swift and vehement. “The devil incarnate.” The tone of her voice is chilling and harsh, her eyes narrowed in utter hatred.
I need more than that. I’ll find out who Andros is, as well. Anyone that causes that type of response in her… But I plod on carefully, so she doesn’t retreat.
“I’ve met some evil men in my line of work,” I tell her, keeping my tone casual. “In fact, I’d say most of us had a bit of the devil in us. Some more so than others.” I stare at my clean hands that were covered in another man’s blood only minutes ago. If she knew what I’ve done to get where I am, the steps I’ve taken within the Bratva to rise to power…
“Not like him,” she says, her tone frigid. “I’ve met many of you. You live by a code of conduct. And yes, some of you do wicked things.” She sighs, looking out the window. “The truth is, most of you do. I know this.” Shaking her head, she crosses her arms on her chest and pulls inward. “But I’ve never met a man with soulless eyes until I met him.”
He hurt her. The wounds he inflicted may be hidden, but she bears the scars of something terrible and cruel.
I’ll find out what he did if it kills me. I start with the most obvious question, though I know before I ask her that she won’t tell me.
“What did he do to you?”
Predictably, she pinches her lips together, rubbing her hands up and down her arms as if she’s freezing cold. She won’t say, and I suspect it’s because she doesn’t trust me. Not yet. She’s just seen me beat a man and threaten to end his life. Why would she?
I’ll find out what he did to her, if it takes me a year to earn her trust and respect. Even if I have to hire someone to investigate. I’ll find out what he did, and he will pay.
“Caroline.”
Though I know she won’t tell me more, it’s still unacceptable not to answer me when I speak to her. She looks to me, her eyes still shuttered after speaking of Andros.
“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” I chide. “It’s imperative that you obey me and respond when I speak to you. This time, I won’t insist, but in the future I will.”
At my challenge, her gaze narrows on me and her lips pinch tighter together. I’ll have her answer me.
“Are you a virgin?”
A beat passes before she responds. I watch as she swallows hard. “You didn’t want to know that before you took me? Didn’t you want someone pure and untainted?”
“Answer the question.” She will learn to obey me and answer my questions.
“No,” she says, and at first, I think she’s defying me. But no, she’s answering my question.
“You’re not a virgin?”
She snorts derisively. “Do you find it surprising that a woman who looks like me isn’t a virgin? That someone would actually want to put his—”
“Enough.” I can’t wait to get home to my own room where my tools lie at my disposal. One good round with a rattan cane ought to curb that tongue of hers. I wait until she’s closed her mouth and sits silently before I continue. “Now that I have your undivided attention, this is as good a time as any to talk about your duties to me as my wife.”
“Oh? Do go on,” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm. “When you’re through, can we discuss your duties to me as my husband?”
/>
Yes, she will definitely be giving me reason to punish her. I can’t help but smile at her when I squeeze her knee. “I’m well aware of my duties to you as your husband.”
A faint color creeps up her neck and tints her cheeks, and she swallows hard. I love making her flush like that.
“To begin, you’ll stay in my bedroom,” I tell her, and when her brow draws together, confused, I explain, “In the past, some pakhans have given their wives permission to wander freely, but for me that will be imperative.”
“Right. So… always? I’m not allowed to leave the room?”
“You will,” I tell her. “I’ll give you freedom if you earn it. But what I mean is you will not have a room apart from me.”
“Fair,” she says, but I imagine she looks a little relieved. “In fact, I’d prefer that.” I don’t ask her why, but it pleases me she acquiesces to this readily. Some of my other demands will be harder for her to swallow.
“You’ll be expected to obey me. I’ll demand obedience, respect, and honesty from you.”
“Of course.” Though she verbally agrees, her body language gives me a different response, her rigid spine and fiery eyes promising me that earning her obedience and respect will be a difficult task.
“You’ll accompany me to social obligations, both within our brotherhood and with extended brotherhoods.”
Her lips part and her eyes widen a little, but she swallows and nods. I’m a little surprised by her response. “Do you… do you have many social obligations?” she asks.
“As pakhan, I do.” I continue to list her duties. “I’ll expect you to bear my children—”
“No.”
I didn’t expect such a defiant and immediate response. She explains herself promptly. “I will not bring children into Bratva life,” she says. “Never.”
Though I dislike the defiance in her voice, I can’t help but admire her tenacity. The woman’s will is made of iron.
“Caroline, married couples within the Bratva bear children,” I explain to her. “We will need an heir to take on my role when it’s time.”
“No.”
We will see about that. I will do what I have to. Impregnating my wife is crucial but doing so against her will puts everything else at risk. Plus, I hate the very thought. I want to come home after a hard day of work to a wife that’s eager for my return, not plotting my demise.
The window between us and our driver rolls down. “Sir, we’ve arrived at the airport.”
“We will speak more of this later,” I say, as we cruise to a stop.
“We will not.”
We’re about to exit the vehicle. My men wait for us and will attend us on our journey home, and when we arrive more of my men will greet us. She will not speak to me this way.
I reach for her jaw and grasp it in my hand, noting the way her eyes widen when I yank her gaze to mine. “That’s enough,” I tell her. “No more defiance from you. No more backtalk. If you speak out of turn again, I’ll remove your privilege of speaking.”
Her eyes are molten embers. I can feel her jaw clench as she glares at me.
“Fine.”
I shake my head, and she growls a little. I hold her more firmly.
“Yes, sir,” she manages through clenched teeth.
“Good girl,” I tell her with sarcasm. She’s not a good girl at all but a very, very naughty one.
The door to our vehicle opens and our bodyguards and escorts wait outside. I put my arm out for her to take, which she does without comment. I lead her to where our private plane waits, the entryway by the gate surrounded by my men, armed.
“That’s the plane we’re taking?” she says when we arrive. The plane stands right outside this window, right near the loading dock.
“It is,” I tell her. “Private, and the swiftest in our fleet.”
“Excellent.”
The woman needs a good, hard spanking over my lap then a good, hard fucking to tame her. To start, anyway. It’s a shame we won’t have room or privacy enough on the way home, though I’ll be sure we do after we arrive.
“Are you a nervous flier?”
“I haven’t flown enough to say,” she explains. “Though my last trip I was nervous before I got on, so yeah, I probably am.”
What the hell did they do to her before they brought her to me? Still, I know she was afraid of coming at all. Now it looks like my wife is nervous.
We board, and I have her sit right beside me. This is a first-class flight, only two and a half hours long, so there’s plenty of room for both of us, as well as private TV’s, music, and in-flight food and drink. I’m curious what she’ll choose as entertainment. I want to know everything about her.
“Do you need something to help you for the flight?”
She shakes her head, but she’s already white knuckling the seat.
The attendant brings us a menu. I order Caroline a glass of champagne and orange juice.
“What if I don’t want that?” she says, her lips pulled into an almost-pout.
I shrug. “You could fight me if you’d like. But it’ll help you relax for the flight. And if I were you, I’d save my fight for something bigger. A little drink can help loosen you up.”
The pout loosens a little. When the drinks arrive, I pour the champagne and orange juice in one glass for me and another for her.
“Cheers. To our honeymoon.”
“Cheers,” she says, clinking the glass with chagrin and a sigh. She says nothing about our honeymoon. We both know we aren’t the traditional couple, and we won’t follow the usual methods or customs.
She may not like her circumstances or me, and I’ve already accepted that. But given what she’s come from, I hope I can offer her something at least a little better.
I have two more days to consummate this marriage.
When she finishes her drink, I pour her a second.
“Drink.” Wordlessly, she holds my eyes and obeys. “This is delicious,” she says. “Do you drink often?”
I shrug. Social drinking is a way of life for me and my brothers, though I hold my liquor well. “My father was a mean drunk and I vowed I would never follow in those footsteps. You?”
“I never drink,” she says, while she upends her glass and polishes off her second. “I’m too much of a control freak.” She finishes her drink and places it on the tray in front of her, then leans her head back and closes her eyes. “But for now, I’d like to rest.”
I wait until she falls asleep, her head tipped to the side. She’s never had alcohol. She was mistreated at the hands of her brother, and her brother’s friend.
What does she secretly long for? Fantasize about? What is it that her heart longs for?
I make it my mission to find out.
Caroline
“Caroline.” I’m in my bed, covered in blankets, and Andros has broken into my room. I’ve fastened bolts and locks but no matter what I do, he finds a way to me. This time, I will fight him. He will not take advantage of me. Not now. Not ever again. Under my pillow I’ve hidden a knife. If I can only take it out, when he pulls back the covers, I will plunge it between his ribcage and twist it until he bleeds out to his death. I reach for the knife, but I can’t find it. My fingers search fruitlessly for the cold metal blade but find nothing.
“Caroline.” The voice is more insistent now, and I’m being shaken. I don’t wake yet, because I’m still in a panic, trying to find the knife.
“Caroline.”
I blink awake, staring into Tomas’ dark brown, concerned eyes.
“We’ve just landed,” he says. “We’re here.”
My head feels as if it’s been stuffed with cotton, the taste of the drink he plied me with now sour in my mouth. I forgot that a plane ride to Boston would take fewer than three hours. I stretch, ignoring the way my heart still pounds in my chest. I don’t remember what I dreamt about, but it’s left a sad weight on my chest that only worsens when I remember where I am and where we’re going.
/> I’m married to a fierce beast of a man who expects obedience and submission from me. I know no one in his brotherhood and don’t even know anything about Boston. I’m tired, my body still on West Coast time and not yet used to the three-hour time difference. Everything is new to me, but considering where I’ve come from, that isn’t a bad thing.
I have so many questions for him, but it’s time to exit the plane. He takes me by the hand and leads me down the small ladder that leads to the runway. It’s a little chilly and rainy, and I shiver. A full dozen men stand at attention as if we’re royalty and they’re prepared to do his bidding.
Hell, maybe we are. I don’t know anything about this group at all. I know that Tomas is pakhan, and with that bears the weight of responsibility and prestige. Does he command the respect of fellow leaders? The way his men look to him is a far cry from the way my brother’s men did. They look to Tomas with respect and deference, their eyes on me curious but detached. I saw what he did to the man in Atlanta. They likely know to keep their distance from me.
Good. I prefer it that way.
Tomas is shaking hands, and they’re clapping him on the back, congratulating him in Russian.
“Sir, we’ve prepared a banquet tonight,” one of the men says. “To celebrate your marriage.”
“Excellent,” Tomas says. “Thank you.”
The man goes on to list the political officials who will be in attendance, as well as the prominent local businessmen. I cringe inwardly but don’t respond. I hate the idea of being paraded around in front of a crowd of beautiful, wealthy, and influential people. Hate it.
But when I remember the litany of duties I have as his wife, I sigh. I have no choice. Not this time.
And even if I did… would I choose another road? Tomas is fiercely protective. Though the beating he gave the man in Atlanta terrified me, the very memory making my stomach clench in fear, I like knowing he will not let anyone harm me. It feels nice to be cherished by someone, even if the only reason he treasures me is because he’s proprietary. Because I belong to him.
