VICTOR: Her Ruthless Husband: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 3

By Theodora Taylor

You've never met an ex like Victor... 
DAWN:
Three dates with the monster.
That's the price he's demanding for my freedom.
With a growing secret inside my womb, I have no choice but to accept his deal.
But can I tangle with the silent beast without losing myself again?
VICTOR:
She's escaped, and I'm undone.
A crime lord brought down by one woman.
They're saying that I must let her go. That I'll never be able to win her back.
She says that too.
But failure is not an option. Losing her will destroy any humanity I have left.
She's my addiction. My only weakness. The woman I chose over everything else.
Three dates. If that's all I have to prove I'm the man she belongs with, then I'd better make them count.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theodra Taylor
• Release date: Oct 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781942167495

Book preview

1

DAWN

I wake up to Victor, heavy on top of me and moving between my legs.

Did you miss me? he whispers into my ear as he pumps into me with slow, powerful thrusts. His tone is cocky. And mean.

Still, an achy Yes comes tumbling out of my mouth as he fills me up again and again, touching places deep inside of me.

Yes, I’ve missed him. Missed this. Missed us.

But then I remember why we fell apart.

Why I ran. Ran as fast as I could from the monster currently overwhelming me with relentless pleasure.

Stop… My voice thin and weak.

But I can’t be weak. The stakes are too high.

A new wave of rage and determination swells inside my chest.

Get off! Get off of me! I pound my fists into his shoulders, shove at the fearsome tattooed dragon on his chest. I don’t want this! I don’t want you!

The scary dragon tattoo suddenly animates and comes to life.

What the…?

Do you truly believe you have a choice? the creature asks me, its voice gravelly and low.

With that terrible question, Victor’s body becomes heavier on top of me, heavy as a concrete statue.

I try to scream. But I choke underneath his cold, concrete body. I can’t scream. I can’t even make a sound.

I’m dying! I’m dying! I’m—

I wake up with a gasp, sitting all the way up in bed like they only do on TV.

Suddenly, I have a new sympathy for those made-up characters. Some dreams are so scary they fling you forward and catch you in mid-run.

My heart thrumming with terror, I cast my eyes around the dark room …and let out a sigh of relief. I’m not underneath Victor. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

In Amber’s and Luca’s guest house. Sleeping in the bedroom they so generously provided me, since there were few other places I’d be safe from Victor, the ruthless husband I’d left a little over six weeks ago.

For ten years, I had been his prisoner as a part of his need for vengeance against my father. Technically, he was supposed to let me go on May 26 th. My sentence served. But on the last anniversary of my sentence, May 25 th, I skipped out less than an hour after I’d arrived for his cruel date. And did I put it past him to demand that I reimburse him in some terrible way for that?

No….no, I really, really didn’t. Not after what happened on our last anniversary, when he pulled off a total villain trifecta of shattering my dreams, exposing our secret marriage to my father in the worst possible way, and proving to me beyond a shadow of a doubt who he truly was.

But that’s all over now.

I’m safe here at Luca’s and Amber’s.

I look over at the empty pillow next to me and confirm my new reality. I’m alone in bed. And Victor is—well, I don’t know exactly where he is. I just found out a few weeks ago that his Silent Triad criminal organization was based out of Rhode Island, not New York, as he’d let me assume during our decade-long, omission-filled marriage.

But the point is, he’s not here. I’m safe. I’m safe.

I bring my hand up to rub it over my belly reflexively. And so is this baby. My heart rate returns to a reasonable BPM, and the terror from the dream begins to fade.

Even so, I feel helpless and pissed off at myself. It’s been over a month since I last saw Victor, but I’m still having nightmares.

How long will it take for me to stop having them? Until the baby comes? Forever?

Dread twists my stomach, along with dehydration… I’m shaky and thirsty after all that nightmaring.

But as I make my way down the dark hallway towards the guest house’s cozy kitchen, fear ramps back up inside of me. Every shadow is shaped like Victor. Maybe I should ask the Ferraros for a night light…

But, no… they’re already doing so much for me. Plus, I’m about to have a baby in seven more months, if my calculations are correct. I don’t want to give them the impression I’m a baby too, incapable of living on my own, much less taking care of an entirely dependent newborn.

You can do this, Dawn, I insist as I reach the kitchen at the end of the hallway. You can handle the dark.

I flip on the kitchen light. Only to gasp again.

Victor’s sitting at the kitchen table. A nightmare come to life.

Terror and disbelief cramps my belly. What…? What are you doing here? I demand.

This time, I know it’s not a dream. Instead of speaking out loud as he did in the nightmare, Victor raises his hands to answer my question in sign language, his preferred method of communication, since he’s mute.

Mute, but more powerful than almost any speaking man I know in real life.

That’s proven by the fact that he’s somehow managed to get in here. And by his next dark words. Did you think you could escape me? That I would ever let you go? Especially now that you’re carrying my baby?

My heart stops.

How did you know? How did you know about the baby? The questions escape my lips before I can think to hold them back.

I know everything. He rises from his seat with the same malicious smile he wore when he informed me we were about to get married ten years ago, just five minutes before the ceremony. And this divorce you want? It’s never going to happen.

I don’t notice the divorce papers on the table until he snatches them up. They’re held together by a large black binder clip in a sheaf, thick and official. But Victor tears through them easily, ripping them in half like he’s the Incredible Hulk.

Then he throws the papers to the ground and signs, Time to go back to your prison.

No! No! You can’t make me! I scream. Someone will come.

I think of the promises that Amber, my unorthodox mafia wife divorce lawyer, made me: That she could free me from Victor. That as long as I stayed at the Ferraro’s estate in Alpine, New Jersey, no one could get in. That I’d be safe here along with my baby.

Guards are patrolling the grounds. Like, everywhere. I suddenly recall that, and the panic of finding him here in the kitchen clears.

I open my mouth to scream just like I told him I would.

But nothing comes out. Suddenly, I’m as mute as Victor.

I clutch at my throat. I can’t speak! Why can’t I speak? Why can’t I….

I look up at Victor, horrified. But he’s no longer standing next to the kitchen table.

He’s now sitting on the other side of a marble island counter. The same marble counter he sat at nine years ago on the evening of our first wedding anniversary, when he pretended to be playing along with my game of Operation Good As New—before showing me just how opposite of that fantasy he could be.

He regards me from his seat with a cool look and asks without signing, Aren’t you going to make me dinner for our anniversary?

Oh God, I’m back at the East Providence house.

But how?

Wait, who cares how? I’ve got to get out of here!

I try to run for the doors, but something yanks me back. Something on my hand….

I look to find the wedding ring I flushed down the toilet my first night at Luca’s and Amber’s guesthouse back on my hand. And it’s attached to a chain.

One with Victor’s ring at the other end. Victor, who’s always been so much stronger than me. And always will be.

I’m trapped! I’m trapped again, and this time, I’m at his complete mercy.

Speaking out loud again, Victor flashes me another malicious smile. I told you you’d never be able to escape me. But you might as well get that.

There’s a phone…a phone vibrating on the counter between us.

I wake up again.

But this time for real. The sun of a new day is shining through the window, and there’s no overly dramatic sitting up in bed. I just feel groggy, scared, and confused as I fumble for the secret burner phone I bought a few years ago. It’s vibrating—not on the kitchen counter at my Providence house prison—but on the bedside nightstand.

Hello? I ask without even pausing to check the caller ID. Only my family and Amber knows the number for this phone. And this early in the morning, it’s got to be the latter.

Dawn, it’s Amber. My savior lawyer’s crisp and efficient voice down the line, confirming my guess. Sorry to call so early, but I think you’ll want to come to the main house for breakfast. I’ve got an update on this divorce of yours. A real weird update. And I need to tell you this in person because you’re going to have a whole lot of follow-up questions.

2

VICTOR

---

Nanny? Nanny?

The little boy called out for the nanny who had brought him to this strange house with the promise of more sticky candy. His mother never let him have sticky candy. She’d said it was bad for his teeth. But Nanny gave him a piece at the park. And she said she knew a place where they could get more if the little boy were willing to sneak away from his guards with her.

After they gave his guards the slip, they got to ride on a train all the way to the mainland together, and then a real-life bus after that. The little boy had never been to the mainland or ridden on public transport before, and it seemed to him that his favorite nanny was taking him on a big adventure. They eventually arrived at a house that was only one story. And she told the little boy there was more sticky candy inside.

However, as soon as the door closed behind them, a man grabbed the little boy and threw him into a strange bedroom.

Perhaps it belonged to another boy. A pair of trousers and a red polo hung on the back of the locked door. But not a boy like him or any of his friends. The room was tiny, with nothing but a very small cot to sleep on and four dingy walls.

He had never spent time in or even seen a room like this in his life. And there was no candy that he could see.

But maybe this was a game. He looked everywhere for his promised candy, even pulling at the floorboards. Perhaps if he found it, Nanny and the man who grabbed him would let him out.

But he hadn’t found any candy anywhere. And no matter how many times he’d called for his nanny, who had always come right away before, she didn’t appear.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in this room. He wished he had paid attention when Nanny tried to teach him how to read a clock so that he could decipher the one on the wall.

But it had been a too long time. Nanny hadn’t come when he called that he needed to use the toilet. Eventually, he lost the battle to hold his pee, and then his pants became wet and soggy.

And that made him cry, Nanny! Nanny! even louder.

The little boy was also hungry. And the more he called out for the nanny who never responded, the thirstier he got.

Eventually, his throat became so dry. He could only croak, Nanny? Nanny? Where are you? I don’t like this game! Please come get me.

He fell asleep, crying and begging for a nanny who wouldn’t come. But he was awoken sometime in the night by the sound of the tiny room’s door opening.

"Tak-lun? Tak-lun, is that you?

Tak-lun. That was his Chinese name, not the English one that Nanny, his father, and everyone else used. Only his mother called him by that name.

Mama? The little boy lifted his head, and all the misery cleared away when he saw his mother in the doorway.

Tak-lun! she cried out.

The little boy’s heart soared. His beautiful mother appeared just as happy to see him as he did to see her.

But then he saw the man standing behind her in the brightly lit hallway. It wasn’t one of the guards that his father sent with his mother everywhere but the same man who had locked the little boy in this room.

His mother also looked over her shoulder at the bad man.

Let him go! she demanded. Her voice was very angry. He’s only a child.

The man didn’t move from his position in the hallway. Not even an inch.

Tell him no more crying. Keep him quiet, the bad man told his mother. Or else.

Or else what? The little boy’s heart stopped with the terrible realization that his mother hadn’t come to take him home. That she, too, was being forced to play this game.

In the next moment, his terrifying guess was confirmed. The guard shoved his mother into the tiny room and slammed the door behind her. Darkness encased them, followed by the small-but-ominous click of the door re-locking.

Mama? Mama? What’s happening? the little boy asked. I don’t like this game.

The bed depressed, and his mother pulled him into her lap, even though he’d peed his pants and she was wearing a pretty dress. It’s okay, Tak-lun. It’s okay. Everything will be all right. I promise you.

That was the last promise his mother ever made to him.

And she didn’t keep it.

---

Victor jerks awake with tears stinging his eyes, his arms still clinging to a ghost.

Another dream, he realizes after a few panicked moments. He swipes the moisture away. Another blasted nightmare.

More like suppressed memories, struggling to get out. He hadn’t thought about what happened when he was just a little boy in years—much less dreamed about it. But these memories disguised as nightmares have been terrorizing him for weeks. Ever since…

Speaking of suppression, he ruthlessly does the same with all the emotions that well up inside of him whenever he thinks about Dawn. She is out of his surveillance for the first time in fifteen years. Fear and rage would consume him if he let himself think too long about that.

He also has to mute her father, Darrell, laughing as he congratulated Victor for doing his job for him and turning Dawn’s love into hate. That was after he revealed that almost all the things Victor had accused her of, had in fact, been a fabrication made up by a DEA agent willing to do anything to make his sting a success. Even use his unknowing daughter in his plot to take down Victor’s father.

Before that moment, Victor had lived in the past. He’d done terrible things in the name of revenge. Until a month ago, he thought Dawn’s misery was the only thing that could make up for his father’s death.

But Darrell’s revelation had thrust him unceremoniously out of the past and into the present.

And the present—to borrow a word from his American-born cousin Phantom—sucks.

But this is only temporary, Victor reminds himself.

Fighting back the encroaching sea of remorse and regrets, he slips on his wedding ring and puts himself through his usual morning workout. Adding extra reps to his strength training to make it much more brutal.

You can fix this, you can fix this, you can fix this! Victor chants inside his mind as he hits and kicks a punching bag with weights strapped around his ankles and wrists.

You can fix this, you can fix this, you can fix this! He makes that vow to himself as he showers and gets dressed. It would be like that game of hers he refused to play nine years ago. Operation Good as New. But this time, it would work. He’d restore them to how they were in Japan. Before….

Before he ruined everything with ten unnecessary years of punishment.

He looks at the guy in the mirror. The one who has dark circles under his eyes from another piss poor night of sleep…and missing the woman he pushed away so many times.

You have to fix this, he tells that guy before making his way downstairs. The alternative, letting her go? He can’t even bear to think about that.

Luckily, Han was able to arrange a meeting with Luca Ferraro for today. And this meeting will be the first step to getting Dawn back. Victor ruthlessly focuses on that as he charges down the stairs to the dining room where their in-home chef has set up the usual breakfast buffet for Victor, Han, Phantom, and any staff and Silent Triad members who happened to be on the premises. However, it was an unspoken rule that only the three dragonheads were allowed to avail themselves of the buffet before 9 AM.

Phantom is already at the table when Victor arrives, eating one of those massive breakfasts favored by Americans.

Hey, cuz, what’s up? Phantom says through a pancake-stuffed mouth after Victor joins him with his own relatively light breakfast. Just a bowl of congee and some milk tea.

Not for the first time since Han arranged the meeting with Luca, Victor wonders if Phantom is up for the job of acting as his translator at this crucial event.

Of course, Victor would prefer his chosen brother. But, unfortunately, Han still hasn’t returned from Hawaii.

Han agreed to come back to Rhode Island after the fallout with Kuang. But then, just a few days later, he called Victor and Phantom on a group FaceTime to say that he was working a plan which he couldn’t talk about over the phone and needed more time in the Aloha State.

That call took place over two months ago, back in the spring. Now it was nearly halfway through the summer.

Has it really been over six weeks since Victor saw Dawn in any way, shape, or form? This is the longest he’s gone in fifteen years without knowing exactly where she was at any given hour of the day or having access to her whenever he wanted—though he’d gone out of his way to avoid using that easy access over the last ten years.

What a fool he’d been.

A hollow, lost feeling sweeps through him. A little boy crying in a tiny room. But he’s not that little boy anymore, he reminds himself.

He can fix this. I will fix this.

Are you ready for the meeting? he asks Phantom instead of returning his cousin’s greeting.

Phantom once again doesn’t bother to finish chewing before answering.

As ready as I can be, considering that we’re walking into this shit on Ferraro’s turf with zero intel. For all you know, these Italian bitches will gun us down as soon as we walk in. He spears another bite of pancake, this time adding a slice of bacon and some scrambled eggs on top of it. Perhaps he is challenging himself to see just how much food he could stuff into his mouth before becoming completely incomprehensible?

No weapons allowed, Victor reminds him. Not to reassure his cousin, but because he knows Phantom will try to sneak something in any way if he isn’t given a direct order.

His cousin throws him a severely grumpy look before asking, What happened to letting this chick go on May 26 th?

Victor answers Phantom as he plans to answer Dawn. She left before fulfilling her part of our agreement. So now her let go date is very much up in the air.

You know you sound like a psycho, right? Phantom asks.

Yes, Victor does know that.

But after six weeks without Dawn, he can’t bring himself to care.

Less than an hour after breakfast, Phantom and Victor arrive at Luca’s warehouse on the Jersey side of the Hudson River. It’s a large red brick building with casement windows and a sign painted on the front that declares it the home of Ferraro Disaster Management.

Okay, spread ’em, says a guy standing outside the warehouse’s open roll-down door. He’s got an accent nearly as tough as Phantom’s.

Just as Han’s liaison promised, Victor, Phantom, and their men are all weapon checked at the door. But still, Phantom brought along a backup plan.

Since there were no restrictions put on who could come to the meeting between their two gangs, Phantom ordered ten Silent Triad to accompany them. Bruisers with martial arts backgrounds. Just as Phantom and Victor used to be before DNA evidence became harder to surmount and they began delegating their dirty work.

That way, if they try to light us up, at least we’ve got a fighting chance, Phantom explained when they walked out of their mansion to find two other Audi’s idling behind the