Page 10 of Tangled Vows

I’m a nervous wreck in the passenger seat of the Mercedes.

I have no idea where Ivan is taking me. Yes, he mentioned seeing Leonid, but where in the world is that? A high-rise? A basement? A dungeon, maybe?

The views may be fantastic, but they’re not enough to distract me. Large buildings give way to the clear blue ocean before more structures jump back into the picture. The best I can do is gaze out over the calm sea in the hope that this man and his associate will be nice to me.

I must admit that Ivan has been very polite so far. Back in the safe house, he didn’t raise his voice; he actually asked me to follow him. There was no dragging. He didn’t put a gun to my head or threaten me. In spite of this politeness, I can’t be sure of his intentions. I can’t have faith in a man that walks around carrying two guns at all times. I noticed them when he bent down to pick up his car keys. Truth be told, he didn’t try to hide them. He wanted me to see that he was armed.

Of course, it’s impossible for me to hide my tension. I’ve been chewing on a fingernail ever since we left the safe house. I keep throwing glances at Ivan’s profile, as if I’ll manage to look into his brain at some point.

For all his niceness, however, he’s been secretive about why Leonid wants to see me. He keeps repeating, “Patience. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Well, thanks for nothing, you moron.

He could’ve been the ideal package.

Apart from the threatening and dangerous aspects.

Later, the Mercedes rolls into a bustling marina. In a matter of seconds, I look on in amazement. There are dozens of yachts. The smallest must be fifty feet long, shades of gray and white across the hull bathing in sunlight. In total, those boats probably cost more than entire city blocks.

Ivan turns left and into a reserved spot along the shimmering waterfront. My fingers wrap around the door handle; he gives me a stern look.

“Don’t,” he commands. “Opening that door before we stop will make the car think it’s being stolen.”

“Oh,” I gasp in surprise. The Mercedes comes to a gentle halt.

“We shouldn’t leave Leonid waiting, Ms. Jensen,” he says in his baritone and pushes his own door open.

I suck in a deep breath while he jogs around the corner of the car, his gaze on a nearby yacht. Seeing a woman draw near, holding the leash of her little white dog, I feel like a peasant in a gathering of royalty. My blue sundress and my white strappy flats are cheap. My hair is bundled in a ponytail, unlike the approaching lady’s. She’s in chic couture, and her dog is wearing a nice pink bow around her neck. I step out, bringing my attention back to Ivan.

“Where are we?” I haven’t even finished my question and I’m already dreading the answer. In my mind, there’s a good chance I’ll be held captive in one of those floating palaces.

A soft grip on my elbow doesn’t provide an answer. If anything, it just adds to my fear. It’s short lived, however, as Ivan lengthens his strides and leads me away from his vehicle.

“We’re going to a secure location, Clare. Trust me.” A water taxi comes into view as we pass by a huge reddish yacht.

“Trust you?!” I exclaim, unable to believe my ears. “You kidnap me, you won’t say where we are or where we’re going, and you expect me to trust you?”

“Clare...” He calls out my name through gritted teeth, making me regret my decision to express my frustration. “Where would you be if we hadn’t saved you from those bastards?”

And there it is.

The moment of truth. The moment when things become so much clearer. But that doesn’t mean they’re crystal clear. Yes, these hardened criminals saved me from another evil bunch of thugs, but I still have no idea about their intentions.

I stare up at those dead serious eyes, my elbow suddenly free of his grasp. A light touch on my back later, and he’s guiding me to the water taxi.

“You’ll see there is nothing to worry about,” he claims, his tone just a tad softer. I step over the railing, my shoes sending vibrations across the metallic floor of the taxi.

In silence, Ivan takes the wheel. The engine rumbles into life, water gurgling behind the little boat. Bubbles bursting, he sets off without looking back at me. He leads us through the parked yachts with precision; he must’ve maneuvered a boat like this in the past. No amateur would steer so carefully through such narrow spaces. If anybody asked me to do this, I’d be terrified. I’d crash into three or four of those insanely luxurious floating mansions.

Near the mouth of the marina, the noise from the engine begins to subside. It’s then that I find out our destination. If anything, it’s spectacular. Sparkling gold and blue paint adorns two enormous decks atop what looks like the most breathtaking floating elegance in the entire marina. If I was impressed before, I am literally stunned now. My lips part in half-amazement, half-shock as I realize the level of luxury. As the water taxi reaches the front of the yacht, I throw a look back. Some of the Miami skyline is hiding behind the enormous boat, allowing a glimpse of three or four buildings.

A smooth chuckle snaps my attention forward. I’m starting to wonder if all Russian men are so full of themselves. Ivan is wearing one hell of a cocky smile, oozing with confidence. He picks up a rope and breaks eye contact before docking the boat.

I’m holding in a snarl—it’s safer to hide my anger in front of him. He may not have been hostile, but he hasn’t been what I’d call friendly, either.

He guides me towards twin staircases sweeping up the front deck, and I notice enormous masts and satellite domes. The next question in my head is rather inevitable.

What the hell am I doing here?

---