Page 11 of Tangled Vows

I clearly don’t belong onboard. I’m just a simple girl from Oregon. I’d never been anywhere near the ocean until today.

Once we’d climbed quite a few steps of polished teak, Ivan gestures me ahead through French doors. I blink against the brightness of floor-to-ceiling windows, their sheer size taking my breath away. They must be twice the size of my whole apartment.

I scan the room, Ivan’s footsteps on the hardwood floor audible over mine. The wall to the left showcases a full bar, bottles on separate shelves over a long counter. A mahogany pool table sits across from the bar, a small portion of that wall featuring a rack of cues. Plush leather couches with their own tables complete this luxurious image.

A rough scrape on the floor tells me that Ivan and I are not alone. Sure enough, a tall athletic figure rises from behind the counter. His expressionless face sends chills down my spine. Leonid is dressed sharp in a dark, tailored suit and a steel-gray shirt that match his eyes.

I freeze on the spot, feet bolted to the floor, the moment our gazes meet across the room. And just then, I realize I’m not looking at the man who saved my skin from the Armenian thugs. There’s no softness in those eyes. There’s no relaxation in his posture. All there is, is a man exuding determination and confidence.

“Sorry for today, Ms. Jensen.”

Once he curls his index finger towards me, awareness shoots up and down my body. He reaches back to grab a bottle of gin and leaves a few slices of lemon on the counter. I throw nervous glances over my shoulder at Ivan, who is not really being helpful. He just brushes past me while I ask myself if I’m overreacting.

Was I right to fear these men? Have I just seen too many mobster movies? Is all the violence I’ve seen in those responsible for my feelings towards them?

“Have a seat,” Leonid’s masculine voice tears the silence once more, compelling me to move forward. “There’s a lot we need to discuss. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Well,” I clear my throat, seating myself on a stool. “Just some water. Thank you.”

Producing a bottle of mineral water, he shifts his gaze back to me. I’m wetting my dry lips, my heartbeat still fast.

“Ms. Jensen, although this meeting is unplanned, let me clear the air on something,” he begins, pouring water into a tall glass. “Nobody in my organization means you any harm. If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be here today. Is that understood?”

I swallow a gulp of my own saliva, processing his words. “I’m trying to understand, Mr. Kovalev. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying you mean to hurt me. It’s just that your actions have confused me. I mean, what’s with all the secrecy?”

He gives a snort of amusement. “The people who took you and the other women are on the prowl. They’ll leave no stone unturned to find you. You must understand, Clare. To them, you’re a money-making machine. Without you, they won’t make jack shit. Your kidnappers’ bosses won’t have that.”

Ivan steps around the counter as my curiosity piques.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Your kidnappers will be dead if they don’t find you,” he explains, his friend cracking ice and clasping the same bottle of gin. “But that’s not going to save you or anybody else. Others will take their place, and they’ll have the same goal: locating you.”

And here I thought that fear had abandoned me.

No such luck.

It had just gone away for a few minutes, but now it’s come right back.

My nerves settle a bit when Ivan presses a glass of sparkling water into my palm. I offer him a hint of a smile to express my gratitude. There’s something fascinating watching these Bratva soldiers do something as mundane as serving drinks. It’s strange and captivating at the same time. Still, if their intentions are as good as they claim, I think hearing them out won’t cost anything.

“Let’s return to today’s events,” Leonid suggests, gin moistening his lips. “I summoned you here as a precaution. I had no intention of scaring you.”

Right...

And I’m the Queen of the frigging universe. I don’t buy that for a second.

“With all due respect, Mr. Kovalev, being dragged from a supposed safe house without explanation doesn’t sound like a precaution to me,” I disagree, keeping my voice down. “You could have told me why seeing me was so urgent. I’m still waiting for that explanation, by the way.”

“Business, Ms. Jensen,” he’s quick to answer.

Ivan is coughing into his hand. His attempt to hide his laughter fails. I can hear it loud and clear.

I duck my head to sip some of my water, hoping that my hair will hide my flushing cheeks.

At last, Leonid’s lips curve into a smile. His stern expression has vanished, this visual making my heart flutter in my chest. He tilts his head down and shakes it sideways once.

“Feisty,” he laughs. “I do like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

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