Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  We have a lifetime together for me to prove to her how much I love her.

  I reach behind her and shut off the shower. Still, she clings to me. I hold her to me with one arm and reach for a towel with the other. In silence, I towel her off, then wrap her up, sling a towel over my waist, and carry her to bed.

  I toss the towels to the floor. We don’t dress but climb under the covers exhausted. I lie on my back, pull her up to my chest, then drape the blanket around her. She’ll sleep fitfully tonight, but every time she wakes, I want her to feel me around her.

  Protecting her.

  Shielding her.

  Loving her.

  Chapter 22

  Caroline

  “May I serve you tonight?” I ask. It’s one week since the ambush on our compound, and Tomas has allowed me to return to the kitchen. At first, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and I had to follow him literally everywhere. From meetings, to trips he made, meals and the like, I was his shadow through it all.

  Ok. I still am.

  But the past day or so he’s lightened up a bit. For Tomas, that means he smiles a bit more. The crease in his forehead has softened, and he speaks in gentler tones.

  Sometimes.

  Today, he seems preoccupied again, and he doesn’t look up when I speak to him.

  “Tomas?”

  He looks to me and blinks as if just seeing me. “Yes?”

  “May I serve you today?” I’ve made one of his favorite meals, a baked fish with vegetables and bread I’ve baked with my own two hands.

  He pushes back from the table and reaches his arms out to me. I go to him without question. He needs me.

  Lacing an arm around my lower waist, he slides me onto his lap, closes his eyes, and nestles his nose in my hair. He inhales, then sighs deeply.

  “Not today, baby. I don’t want you even that far away from me.”

  I sigh. Something is troubling him again.

  I signal the waitstaff.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Tonight, I’d like you to bring our food to us in the privacy of our room, please.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Tomas tightens his grip around me and nods but doesn’t speak. He likes this idea.

  “Come, husband,” I say, rising from his lap and taking his hand. “Join me?”

  I can tell when he needs me. As leader of the Boston Bratva, he bears the weight of responsibility no one else does. And though he never crumples, sometimes he bows under the weight of it before rising again. When he’s disturbed or riled, it’s my job to quiet him.

  Though I don’t like when he’s upset, it fills me with joy to see the worry lines around his eyes soften. To know that though I have no power or responsibility within the brotherhood, I minister to the man who leads them all. I sit on his lap and massage his shoulders or rub his back. Sometimes I kiss him. Sometimes I get on my knees and worship his cock or bow to him and let him have his way with me. He’s a dominant man with strong sadistic tendencies, but it’s a privilege to submit to him. I love letting him work out his aggression with his flogger or his belt. Every time he takes me to the erotic edge where pleasure and pain meet, I trust him a little bit more.

  But we’re only halfway down the hall when his phone rings. I wait as patiently as I can while he answers it.

  “Yes.”

  He grunts into the phone and scowls at me as he listens but says nothing at first. “Fine,” he finally says. “Meet me in my office.”

  I sigh when he hangs up the phone. “What about your dinner, Tomas?”

  “Dinner can wait,” he says tightly, taking my hand and turning around toward the hall that leads to his office. “Stefan has paid us a visit.”

  “Stefan?” I’ve only met Nicolai’s father once, when he officiated at our wedding. “What’s he doing here?”

  He huffs out an aggravated breath. “I have no fucking idea.”

  But he’s told me how he views Stefan as a father-like figure, so if Stefan is here to visit, Tomas will drop everything to see him. We walk in silence to the office. It’s quiet here tonight. After the showdown with my brother, Andros, and their men who ambushed us, we had to deal with the aftermath. Because Tomas has had me go with him to every meeting, I know that Stefan played a hand in mediating when San Diego wanted to war against us. Stefan and Tomas had a secret meeting with my brother’s superior, the pakhan. And the end result was not only peace between the two brotherhoods, but an ample payout in retribution for the pain San Diego inflicted on us.

  Ilya is recovering. He lost a finger thanks to Andros, but I daresay the boy is stronger than he was before. And having been through what he has, he now follows Tomas’ instructions with utter precision. And he’s so very good to me, Tomas has hinted about assigning him as my primary bodyguard in his absence.

  We reach the office, and Stefan is already waiting outside.

  “Tomas,” he says, nodding to my husband and shaking his hand. “Caroline.” He embraces me and kisses first one cheek, then the other. He takes both my hands in his and beams at me. “You look lovely tonight.”

  “Careful,” Tomas grunts, though his lips quirk up at the edges. I know he’s only joking good-naturedly, though.

  “Relax,” Stefan says. “You two look perfect together.”

  “You’re getting soft in your old age,” Tomas says. “Where is Nicolai?”

  “Nicolai’s back home,” Stefan says, but offers nothing else at first. “Let’s go sit down.”

  Tomas opens his office door, ushers Stefan in, and takes me with him. Instead of sitting by his desk, he has me sit on the little loveseat. Stefan sits in an armchair directly across from me, Tomas goes to pour everyone a drink. I decline, but Stefan and Tomas both take shots of vodka.

  Tomas settles down next to me, tugs me so that I’m flush against his side, and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  “Marriage looks good on you, brother.” Stefan smiles at him.

  “Thank you,” Tomas says. He squeezes my hand. “Caroline makes it easy.”

  “That pleases me.”

  They sit silently for a moment. “What brings you here, Stefan?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about the San Diego brotherhood,” he says. “How have things gone? Have they upheld their end of the agreement?”

  “Absolutely,” Tomas says. “They’ve been nothing but compliant.”

  “Good,” Stefan says.

  Tomas grows serious. “Now to the real purpose of your visit?”

  Stefan smirks. “There’s no pulling anything over on your husband. You know that, Caroline?”

  I smile. “Oh, I do.”

  Stefan nods, bringing his fingertips together. “I came for a reason you likely won’t suspect, Tomas.”

  “Oh?”

  Stefan nods. “You’re right. I have grown softer in my old age, yet harder in others. More stubborn, as it were.”

  Tomas waits.

  “I left Nicolai in charge in Atlanta,” he says. “Because I’d like to step in as temporary pakhan for the next two weeks.”

  “What?” Tomas looks perplexed, but Stefan carries on.

  “You two need a proper honeymoon,” he says. “In the past few decades, as I’ve been in this position of leadership, I’ve witnessed countless unions. Those that go on with business as usual often struggle over time. But those that make their relationship of paramount importance? They thrive.” He pauses, giving the words time to settle, before he continues. “And I want to see you two thrive. No one deserves it more.”

  “You came here to tell me to take a vacation?”

  “No, Tomas. Not a vacation. A honeymoon. In fact, your brothers have already made the arrangements.”

  My heart is lighter than it’s been in weeks. Time alone with my new husband?

  Oh, hell yes.

  “Do it,” I whisper. “Tomas, we must.”

  “Must we?” he says tightly.

  “Of course. You don’t want your brothers�
� gift to be in vain, do you?”

  “Caroline,” he says warningly, but Stefan nods.

  “She’s right. They’ve given up their own time and money for you. Step away, Tomas. Let others take control for a little while.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder. “Please?”

  Leaning over, he kisses my cheek, then shakes his head. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can ask while giving me that look that I could refuse. Alright, little detka. We shall go.”

  I’m elated with this turn of events, so excited I can barely contain myself.

  I’m going away. With my husband. Alone, just the two of us.

  He leans over and whispers in my ear. “You are in so much trouble.”

  My pulse races with excitement. I lean over and whisper back. “I can’t wait.”

  Epilogue

  One week later

  I sit in the darkness, by a crackling fire, nestling a cup of hot spiced cider in my hand. Tomas pokes the logs then rests his stick on the ground and sits in the fold-out camp chair next to me. I lay my head on his knee and close my eyes. The warmth of the flames and sounds of the flickering fire make me sigh with contentment.

  I never knew I could have anything like this. My love for him is endless, my joy complete. What I have here with him, this love between us, is so vast, it’s unfathomable.

  Beyond measure.

  “You know, poking it doesn’t actually change anything,” I say teasingly. “I know it’s probably some innate part of the male species to continually ram sticks into fires. I bet the Neanderthals did it. It doesn’t mean you need to.”

  “Did Neanderthals even know how to use fire?” he asks. “I thought they were alive before fire.”

  I smile. He would ask something like that.

  “You ought to know. You’re a direct descendent.”

  That earns me a hard whack to the ass I feel straight through my fleece-lined leggings. “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself,” he says, but his tone is teasing. I’ve never seen him so relaxed. We’re staying at a cabin deep in the woods in northern New Hampshire during peak foliage, surrounded by a canopy of burnt orange, deep red, and golden yellow. It’s as far away from civilization as I’ve ever been, and I love it. The cabin itself is immaculate, with an enormous king-sized bed covered in a handsewn quilt, large stone fireplace, rustic kitchen, and running water—my one request.

  In the morning I make pancakes and fry bacon on a cast iron griddle, while he brews coffee on the stove. We eat until we’re sated, hike deep into the woods, roast marshmallows by the fire at night, and make brutal, savage love whenever we feel like it.

  In short, it’s heaven. And we’re here another week.

  “You know,” I muse, while I watch a log snap and fall in the fire before me. “I like that the money San Diego paid covered our honeymoon. It seems fitting, somehow. Like it’s a dowry or something.”

  “Or something,” he mutters. The money they were forced to relinquish more than paid for our honeymoon. I’m glad that it did, though I don’t know if he cares much. He wants as little to do with San Diego as possible.

  “You know what else?” I wonder out loud.

  “You’re wondering a lot, Caroline. Why don’t you rest that mind of yours a bit?”

  I yawn widely. “I don’t want to.”

  I could fall asleep just like this. By the fire, with the warmth of the flames surrounding me and my husband’s fierce protection beside me. I can’t even remember what I was going to ask him. It doesn’t matter. I have everything I need, right here. Well...there could be one more thing...

  Minutes or hours later I wake when Tomas stands with me in his arms. I blink and yawn. “Why are you carrying me?”

  “You fell asleep,” he explains. “And it’s time I get you to bed.”

  I’m so sleepy now.

  My head hits the pillow, and he tucks me into bed.

  But there’s something I need to tell him.

  As I’m drifting off to sleep, I can’t keep it in any longer. “Tomas?” I end on a yawn.

  “Yes, love?”

  I roll over with my back to him. “My period is late.”

  His arm slung around me tightens. “Your what?”

  I yawn again. “My period.”

  He sits straight up in bed. “My God,” he says. “Are you serious?”

  I can’t help but giggle. “Totally.”

  He’s walking around the cabin, pacing. “Are you ever late?”

  “Not at all.”

  “My God,” he repeats. “Where can we get a test?”

  I laugh and smile to myself, half asleep. “Nowhere near around here. But that’s okay. We can take one when we get home.”

  Maybe it would’ve been smarter to tell him when we were closer to a pharmacy. He reaches a hand to my belly. “Any kicking yet? Are you ill?”

  I snort. “God, no. We have to test. And even if I am pregnant, it’s way too early.”

  “We have to test,” he mutters. I fall into a deep sleep.

  Two months later

  “Twins,” the doctor pronounces. Tomas beams, stands, and paces the room, running his hands through his hair.

  “Twins?” he asks.

  “Twins,” the doctor repeats.

  I only swallow hard and watch my husband absorb this information. Two babies instead of one? I bite my lip. I’m overwhelmed and a little awed.

  “Don’t you worry, baby,” Tomas says. “I’ll hire a nanny. You already have a cook and cleaners. You’ll see how easy this is.”

  Is he crazy? But still, it’s cute how excited he is.

  “If you say so, handsome,” I say with a smile. “Can you tell the genders?” I ask the doctor.

  “Looks like a boy and a girl.”

  I grin at Tomas and he grins back, beaming at me with so much pride, my heart squeezes.

  “I love you,” I tell him.

  “And I love you.”

  Seven years later

  “Be careful,” Tomas says. “That’s hot!”

  “Honey, she’s been using a skillet for a while now.” I grin. “She learned from the best.”

  “From the best?” he says with a teasing scowl. “How many times have we seen the doctor for a burnt hand or a cut with a kitchen knife?”

  I wave a hand to brush him off. “Oh, don’t be silly. A chef must learn to use real tools.”

  “Real tools my ass,” he mutters.

  “Or real tools on my ass,” I mutter back in his ear, so only he hears.

  “Darling, not in front of the children,” he says with mock reproach.

  “Afraid you’ll get me pregnant again?” I whisper back. “Hard to get a pregnant woman pregnant.”

  I rest my hand atop my swollen belly and smile at him. I never dreamed I’d have any children, much less two sets of twins.

  “And anyway, I wasn’t talking about me, but Camila.”

  Shortly after we came back from our honeymoon, I asked Tomas to hunt down the chef my brother fired. It seems so long ago now. It took some time, but he found her, and to my delight, he hired her for our own kitchen. It makes my heart squeeze to see Camila working alongside my own children.

  We’ve long since outgrown the lavish apartment in the compound and have settled down in suburbia just north of Boston. The Boston Bratva is alive and well, though the San Diego brotherhood collapsed after failed leadership about five years ago. The men I knew have scattered to different brotherhoods. I’m grateful. Knowing they’re no longer banded together somehow makes it easier to live my new life. To accept that I have a new family, and I’m the mom in this one.

  “This looks delicious,” Tomas says approvingly at the simple meal of grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup. Our daughter, the spitting image of me, shoots him a toothless grin.

  “Thank you, daddy,” she says.

  “Let’s hope it’s edible,” her brother says.

  “Edible?” Tomas repeats. “Behave yourself and be kind t
o your sister.” But he shoots me a wink. “That’s a pretty big word for a little boy. Must come from all those books your mother reads you.”

  “Must be.” We eat while the kids chatter about their friends at school, the playdate at the park, and how they can’t wait for the leaves to change.

  “Mom, today I learned about California,” my daughter says. “The teacher showed us pictures. I want to go some day.” I freeze, but Tomas takes it in stride.

  “San Diego is a beautiful place to visit,” he says. “What is it that you want to see there.”

  “The zoo!”

  He lapses into great details about a zoo in Maine, and my daughter claps her hands, San Diego forgotten.

  But I’ll never forget it.

  And I’m glad that I won’t.

  Remembering where I came from, and the pain of my past, gives me reasons to be grateful for the simple blessings of my life.

  Though still bound to the Bratva, Tomas works hard to make sure his family is distanced and protected, and I do the same. We maintain as much normalcy as we can, and most days are perfect, simple perfection.

  “Will you tell us about your family someday, mama?” My daughter looks up at me with her large, curious eyes.

  I smile at her. “Sure thing, baby. My family is made up of my fearless, fierce husband. Two precocious six-year-olds. And soon, another set of babies that will grow into mischievous children.”

  She smiles. “You’re talking about us.”

  “I am. And Uncle Nicolai and Aunt Marissa, Uncle Yakov and Aunt Yvonne.”

  My daughter takes a big gulp of milk and swipes her hand across her mouth. “We have the best family.”

  Sometimes family isn’t bound by blood but loyalty. Sometimes family is found, not born.

  I reach for Tomas’ hand across the table and squeeze.

  “The absolute best.”

  Author note:

  Thank you so much for reading The Ruthless Doms! Read on for more previews of books you may enjoy.

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