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?”