Page 20 of Tangled Vows

I was just about to call Ivan and ask to see him.

We need to know where we stand with each other. This uncertainty isn’t helping anyone, least of all her. Clare’s confusion was obvious the last time I saw her. I can understand that. Two men had taken her to bed, and they seemed to have no problem with that. Two men she thought were tough and with egos the size of my yacht, had agreed to share her.

If I’m honest, I would be confused, too, if I didn’t know how deep my bond with Ivan is.

That’s our difference.

Ivan and I grew up together. We were barely fifteen when we joined the Bratva. We had to go through all the hardships of the life at a very young age. I can still recall my Pakhan’s words when his men brought us to him for the first time.

“You boys will have to grow up fast.”

Of course, we didn’t know what he meant by “grow up.”

We found out when we started doing things adults should be doing. Ivan and I were big, and we both looked older than fifteen. So, for about a year, we were Yelchin’s main collectors. We had to pay visits to people who had borrowed money from him and pick up payments.

Anybody who didn’t have the money was taught a lesson. Some cuts and bruises were enough. A second delay equaled a harder lesson. One or two cracked ribs, a busted jaw or a nose and that’s it. In case there was a third delay, our instructions were clear.

“Bring him to me.”

This order used to come from the Pakhan himself, because he didn’t want any misunderstandings.

So, we did. After that, neither of us knew what happened to the poor bastard in the same room as Yelchin. We got an idea as we walked away, though. The screams painted a pretty good picture...

“Blue Dolphin. 8 o’clock. Doors open at 9. We’ll have plenty of time for a chat before the music gets too loud in here.”

“Good. See you at 8.”

I stay at the rooftop lounge, sounds of my people working faint in my ears.

I can’t help but wonder what Ivan’s got in mind for Clare. He doesn’t hide his affection for her. On the contrary, he’s been very clear from the beginning. She’s struck a chord in him; even a blind man could see that. What I don’t know is what he wants from her. And I hate to say it, but asking him directly is not an option.

Behind that calm façade hides a very violent man. I don’t mind violence, but I’d rather avoid it when possible.

Later, the thumping of footsteps on the iron staircase announces Ivan’s arrival. I stand behind the small table between two leather armchairs and take a deep breath. Amid the tension of the past few weeks, the last thing I want is an argument with my brother. He clicks the door open and enters, his expression relaxed as he extends his hand.

“Welcome,” I shake his hand. “Have a seat. Drink?”

“Not now, thank you,” he says. “Is it always so crazy down there or am I just lucky?”

“That’s why I employ twenty-six people here, Ivan,” I explain, sitting down across from him. “The lounge is large and a lot needs to be done before doors open every night.”

He exhales hard and leans forward before propping his elbow on his thigh. “I’ll get right to the point. It’s been killing me for days. The other night with Clare, uh...” He pauses for a long moment, his gaze darting from the floor to the table and back to the floor. “What the fuck was that, Leonid? Because it wasn’t just casual sex. We’ve done that together, and the other night was nothing like it.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, bratishka,” I add, putting some force in my voice. “I agree that the threesome we had previously was just casual sex. There are lots of other things at play with Clare. Intimacy. Care.”

“Fuck, Leonid.” Ivan scowls, dragging his gaze away from me. “I know. How the fuck did this happen to us? What did she do? Put a spell on you and me?”

I roll my shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. But this...?” I pause and gesture at him and then me. “This is worse than what she did the other night. I mean, look at us, Ivan. Here we are, in my rooftop lounge, not inspecting escorts. Instead, we’re talking about some girl that hooked us.”

“I never said I was hooked,” he claims, the weakness in his tone showing how little he believes his own words. He may be able to fool himself, but he can’t fool me.

“Oh, hold the bullshit, will you?” I cringe and scratch the back of my head. “You wouldn’t have asked to see me if you hadn’t been thinking about her.”

He sighs, shifting his gaze back to me. “Okay. I like her. I’m not going to deny it anymore. Now—”

“What do we do?” I finish the question for him. “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this: I’m not going to step aside. I’m not letting you have her.”

“Neither am I,” he declares, his tone as stiff as his glare. “But I’m not going to let this screw up our relationship, either. We’ve survived worse than this, Leonid. I’m sure we can work out a solution. And I don’t mean repeating the other night. This was a one time thing. Let’s not do it again.”

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