Page 12 of Tangled Vows

Waves of heat rush into me at his admission, which have nothing to do with the weather or the temperature. For once, I am flattered. Leonid is not intimidating me. He’s just showing his admiration, and I can’t help but feel excited. The mystery surrounding him and Ivan is undeniable. Charming.

Caught in this charm, I eye Leonid first before bringing my attention back to his friend. More cool water washes over my tongue as I discover I need the refreshment. These men don’t bother hiding their admiration. This time, it’s their gazes that do all the talking.

Flustered, I set the empty glass down. I don’t need either of them to elaborate on why I was brought here today. Their motives are more than obvious.

Chapter Seven

Clare

“Dinner. Tomorrow night at 8.”

Leonid’s last words back on the boat were a shock to me.

Frankly? I enjoyed our little meeting. It was not what I’d imagined. I really thought those two would play good cop, bad cop in order to terrify me into telling them about my relationship with the Armenians. Ivan would be the good cop, advising me to reveal my—non-existent—secrets. Leonid would be the muscle, flexing his enormous arms and pecs and yelling in my face.

Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I did sense that there was something business related behind this meeting. Leonid mentioned my application to the Blue Dolphin once. He wouldn’t have done that without good reason. Nevertheless, when I explained to him why I had done so, I got to see more of his human side. The man laughed out and banged his large palm onto the counter before his gaze met with Ivan’s. Then, Ivan just nodded to him, and neither of them brought it up again.

Other than this, the hour and a half I spent on that insanely extravagant yacht just breezed by. The two of them took me on a short tour. On the top deck lay a stunning swimming pool. With the sun scorching my skin, I wished I’d brought a bikini. Yet, how could I have known? I couldn’t have imagined that this urgent meeting would turn out so well.

The next morning, one of their men brought me a present. It was a gorgeous, floral dress with the tag still on. Hours later, I put it on and went out on the small balcony. Gazing out over the small gardens behind the safe house, I smooth my hands down the dress over and over again, remembering Dr. Yuschenko’s warnings about the Bratva.

These men are ruthless, and you think you can be all cheerful and relaxed around them? Are you really that naïve?

My brain has a scary way of reminding me who I’m dealing with. They’re not blue-collar men, working nine-to-five jobs. They’re hardened criminals. I don’t know what kind of crimes they’ve been involved in, but they’re not knights in shining armor. Not that I believe in those anyway. All I want is someone to treat me as his equal.

Still, I can’t look past what happened back on that boat. Okay, I don’t have so much experience with men, but I do recognize certain circumstances. There are clues I don’t miss, and there were plenty aboard that yacht.

One? Leonid’s longing stare. My God, I’ve seen men who look at me like I’m a juicy steak, but there’s nothing like this man’s penetrating gaze. Other guys’ eyes say “I want to fuck you.” His said “I want to devour you. To mark you as my own, if it’s the last thing I do.” When I ducked my head to sip some water, his eyes dipped down to my cleavage and lingered there for a moment or two. Afterwards, his gaze darted back up to my mouth, and then, to my eyes.

Two? Leonid and Ivan never left me alone. We spent almost two hours on that boat together, and neither of them seemed willing to do anything other than hang out with me. Once they’d taken me on that tour, they were constantly on my flanks, showing me the features of the yacht, as if I were a potential buyer.

Their gazes held so much promise. There was a certain spark in their eyes. Their occasional touches on my back were meant to guide me to their preferred spot, like the second bar on the top deck. Leonid led me in and let his fingers roam down my lower back before smoothing them back up to the top of my spine. He rested his hand on the back of my head for several moments and gave it a tender stroke.

There’s some serious tension thrumming beneath my skin. Deep down, I don’t want this to be just dinner. Alas, when that thought lingers in my mind for a minute or two, a strict voice comes to scold me.

What the hell are you thinking? You want to play games with them? A couple of mobsters? Why? Do you have a death wish? Stop daydreaming, you silly twit!

By the end of this notion, doubt has already crept in. What if I’m misreading the signs?

They mean to protect me. They’ve been doing that since we crossed paths in that warehouse. Perhaps all I saw aboard the boat was just that—protectiveness. Care. Friendliness, along with the will to keep me out of the Armenians’ clutches. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s nothing physical. I do think they will be friendly tonight, even though my naughty side demands more than just smiles and friendly glances.

The balcony door slides open behind me, yanking me out of my thoughts. I flip around; Dr. Yuschenko’s standing just behind me.

“They’re here for you, Ms. Jensen,” he informs in his gravelly voice. He steps aside and I stroll back in, a wave of excitement washing over me.

His soft smile somewhat calms my nerves. He strokes my elbow, causing me to look back at him.

“Be careful, little one. Watch where you put your trust. Just because something shines, doesn’t mean it’s gold.”

A warning.

That’s what I take this as.

He means to warn me about those two.

I tip my head down and smile back to demonstrate my appreciation.

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