Ruthless Triad--the COMPLETE boxset collection, page 1
RUTHLESS TRIAD - THE COMPLETE BOXSET COLLECTION
VICTOR HER RUTHLESS CRUSH, VICTOR HER RUTHLESS OWNER, VICTOR HER RUTHLESS HUSBAND, HAN, PHANTOM
THEODORA TAYLOR
Ruthless Triad - the COMPLETE boxset collection
by Theodora Taylor
Copyright © 2022 by Theodora Taylor
First E-book Publication: July 2021
Editing: Authors Designs
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CONTENTS
Victor: Her Ruthless Crush: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 1
FALL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
WINTER
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
SPRING
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
SUMMER
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Victor: Her Ruthless Owner: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 2
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part II
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part III
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Part IV
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Part V
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Part VI
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Victor: Her Ruthless Husband: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 3
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part II
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part III
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Han
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part III
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Phantom
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Special sneak peek of - WAYLON: Angel and the Ruthless Reaper
Waylon Episode 1: Payback's a....
Waylon Episode 2: AITA?
Waylon Episode 3: What the hell, Ant?
Waylon Episode 4: Is This How I'm Going to Die?
Waylon Episode 5: A Pause
Waylon Episode 6: You curious about me, Nurse Angel?
Also by Theodora Taylor
About the Author
VICTOR: HER RUTHLESS CRUSH: THE VICTOR TRILOGY BOOK 1
1
DAWN
I should've known my life was about to change as soon as I spotted my dad standing outside the gates of Tokyo Progressive, our international high school. We'd been living in Tokyo for three years, and our father had never picked us up from school. Not once.
"Shit," Byron signed when he saw Dad. "Think coach called him about the fight?"
My heart swelled with pity for Byron. I hated that Jake Nakamura and his friends ganged up on him today after basketball practice. Again. But I knew he still wasn't ready to tell dad why.
"Don't say anything to him about what happened," Byron signed as if confirming my conclusion.
"I won't," I signed back.
"Promise me," he insisted.
"I promise!" I put extra emphasis on the sign for PROMISE to reassure him.
Then we both stopped signing because we were getting too close to the gates. Dad's signing wasn't the best. Weirdly, he’d picked up Japanese much faster. Half the time, he depended on my mother saying everything she signed out loud.
But just in case, we didn't want to risk him seeing our conversation. If dad knew what was going on with Jake Nakamura, he'd insist on solving it. And Byron didn't want that.
My brother ducked his chin as if tilting his head at just the right angle would keep dad from seeing the purple and yellow bruise already developing over his left eye.
It didn't.
"What happened to your eye, Ronny?" Dad demanded as soon as we walked out of the school gates.
"Basketball game," Byron mumbled. "Caught an elbow."
Dad took Byron by the chin, his expression concerned but skeptical. "You want me to talk to your coach? Back in my day, laps were the only way to get guys to stop throwing them elbows."
Byron let out a weak chuckle. Dad had rigid, sky-high expectations for both of us. But he was also nice and pretty funny in a dad way. Neither of us ever wanted to disappoint him. Especially Byron.
"What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" I asked to save my brother from answering Dad's question about calling the basketball coach.
Dad let go of Byron's chin. "You okay with going on the subway by yourself today? I've got to take your sister somewhere."
Okay, vague. A weird prickle of foreboding popped off in the back of my head. But I guess Byron wasn't nearly as loyal to me as I was to him. He took dad's question as the perfect chance to escape.
"Okay, see you at home," he said in a rush. And then he was out of there. So fast, I imagined animated cartoon plumes of smoke coming off his feet as he headed toward the station that would take him back to Adachi-ku, the ward where we lived.
Dad started walking with me in the opposite direction.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"The Roppongi district," Dad answered. "What happened to your brother's eye?"
>
I shrugged. "It was like that when he came outside."
"And you didn't ask him about it?"
God, I wanted to tell my dad the truth. Maybe Jake would stop terrorizing Byron if I just told him everything. But I promised Byron I wouldn't, and the fallout would be huge if I did. It could totally upend our lives.
"No," I decided to reply.
That answer was true if you stood on your tippy-toes and stretched a little. I hadn't asked Byron what happened because I knew what went down as soon as he met me in the hallway outside the gym.
Dad went quiet. For so long, I thought for sure he was thinking of ways to grill me even harder.
But then he said, "You're good at keeping secrets. That might come in handy. I need you to do me a favor. Actually, it's a favor for one of Mr. Nakamura’s associates.”
Mr. Nakamura was Jake's grandfather and Dad's boss. I'd learned early in my childhood never to ask questions about what Dad actually did for his bosses. But when we lived back in New Jersey, he worked for a bunch of Italians with a lot of tattoos who always wore suits. And now that we’re living here in Tokyo, he worked for a bunch of Japanese men with a lot of tattoos who always wore suits.
I wouldn't say Mr. Nakamura was yakuza—especially not out loud. But I wouldn't not say it either.
"A favor,” I repeated, my voice as careful as careful could be.
Why did I have a feeling this had something to do with last weekend when Byron and I accidentally ran into Dad at that club in the Roppongi district?
He'd been in full guard mode, coming down the steps from the VIP section in front of Mr. Nakamura and a few other Asian guys dressed in suits. Dad was one of those guys who was always scanning, especially when he was on the job. So he’d spotted us before we’d even had a chance to think about trying to turn away and hide.
We’d given him a guilty wave. But he hadn’t waved back, just stared at us both angrily, “like what the hell?”
Technically, the club was only for people over twenty, Japan’s legal drinking age. We probably wouldn't have gotten in if Byron weren't so tall. He also had that cool, vaguely brown foreigner look that was always in demand inside Tokyo's hottest nightclubs. Byron was so good-looking; it almost made up for him dragging his decidedly uncool, dumpling of a sister into the venue behind him.
Dad took a step toward us. And I braced myself for him to come over and ask what the hell we were doing there, sipping on alcoholic drinks.
I didn’t mind getting caught. Clubbing with Byron had been more fun than I’d anticipated. We’d gotten tipsy on Grasshoppers and danced ourselves silly before Dad showed up. I’d figured getting grounded for at least a month wasn’t so bad a price to pay for the awesome night we had.
I liked staying home most Saturday nights anyway. My mom pressed me so hard about my schoolwork, it was usually the only chance I got during the week, outside of art club, to dedicate some serious time to making art.
I'd only come out with Byron that night to help him feel better about having to return to Tokyo Progressive—or ToProg as all the students called it—for a second term after what happened with Jake toward the end of the first one. And the truth was, I was getting tired. I wouldn’t have minded if Dad told us right then and there that it was time to call it a night.
But before he could come towards us, one of the older guys coming down the stairs beckoned Dad over.
He looked to be around the same age as my dad but with a lot more salt in his otherwise ink black hair. I had a feeling he wasn’t one of Mr. Nakamura’s guys. He came off a lot more intimidating than a minion, and he had a lot more visible tattoos. They crawled above the closed collar of his shirt and over the hand he’d beckoned my father with for what looked like a short conference.
I probably should have chosen that moment to leave. Byron had been tugging on my arm, clearly ready to ghost. But something had kept me there, rooted to the spot. I’d had this weird feeling that they were talking about me.
A feeling that had been semi-confirmed when Dad glanced back at me, then nodded at the super-tatted Asian guy who’d been doing most of the talking.
And then…
Well, nothing. In the end, Dad had just walked out with his group.
He never confronted us. And to our relief, he didn't bring it up to our mom, who would've lost her shit if she'd known we’d been out clubbing, not studying with mutual friends like we’d told her.
That was five days ago. And now, here was Dad saying he needed a favor for an associate of Mr. Nakamura’s who lived in the same expensive district where he’d caught us underage clubbing.
As we walked toward a station with trains that only went in the opposite direction of our apartment in one of Tokyo’s less expensive wards, I had to ask, "What would a friend of Mr. Nakamura’s want from me?"
"It's the son of Mr. Nakamura’s associate, actually,” Dad answered as we stepped onto the station’s down escalator. “He needs some ASL tutoring."
"Tutoring?" I repeated. "Is he Japanese?"
That would sort of make sense. Back when Byron was still popular, the other kids in his Deaf Studies track were always asking him to teach them bits of American sign language.
"No, he's a Chinese boy, hoping to go to college in America someday. He already has a private tutor for everything else, but his guy can't teach him ASL.”
"Why ASL? Is he hard of hearing like Byron and mom?"
Dad made an agitated sound like I was asking him too many questions. "He doesn't talk. That's all I know."
