Sometime later Vincent wakes me. It takes me several seconds for his face come into focus once I open my eyes. “We’re ready. Please get dressed.” The hand he places on my arm gives me the chills and I pull away. The bedside light is flicked on and I have a chance to get a good look at him before he leaves my stateroom.

Why does he have to look exactly like James?

I dutifully put on the clothes and exit the cabin.

Vincent is waiting for me in the hallway wearing a dark blue suit with a tie that matches. Gone are his hoodie and boat shoes. He looks like a businessman now instead of a beach bum.

He gives me a quick smile and then I’m ushered up to the helipad and into the waiting ’copter before I even have time to think. I don’t know how long I slept, but it feels like late evening now. Almost all day if I had to guess.

Did he drug me? With the cocoa?

I don’t ask where we’re going. I stopped talking to him after he said he was James. I mean, please. These people treat me like I’m an idiot. He thinks I don’t know the difference between a stranger and the man I’m in love with?

God, did I just admit I love James?

I turn my head in the ’copter so the impostor can’t see me, and I grin. I’ve barely spent any time with James at all, but I know what I feel, and it’s love.

I miss him so bad.

Why did he drop me off?

I mean, yes, I can follow the logic. He was probably freaked out when that guy drugged me and maybe he thought I’d be safer on the yacht.

I probably would be safer on the yacht.

But I’m not on the fucking yacht. I’m in a goddamned helicopter flying to God knows where. And all this stuff about James being crazy—yeah, I can see that too. He’s totally psycho. I grin again. But that’s just part of his charm.

What girl does not fantasize about taming a wild man? Well, I never have until now. But that’s how I feel about it. James Fenici is one of the most dangerous men in the world and he wants to take care of me. He wants to love me and sleep with me. He listens to what I have to say and he puts all the violence aside when I’m next to him.

Grown men are terrified of him. Global organizations haven’t been able to kill him. And yet when his cock is in my mouth, he gives me all the power.

I could get drunk on that power I have over him. I could get off on that power too.

I want my James.

I’m not even remotely interested in what this stranger who looks like him has to say about anything. I don’t care if he’s the one I was promised to. What kind of man accepts a six-year old girl as his wife?

Sick. That’s sick.

James was the one who said no. James was the one with integrity. James was not insane when we turned six that year. He was untouched by all the killing that came afterward. And he was taken prisoner that first year. Left somewhere horrific for a long time, the notebook said. That’s bound to change anyone. And that’s not his fault.

The helicopter finally starts to descend just as the sun begins to set and even though I must’ve slept all day, I’m so tired.

“We’re about to land.” Vincent’s voice crackles though my headpiece.

I look over at him and before I can stop myself, I smile. His face catches me off guard a little. I mean, they are identical. The eyes. The haircut. The broad shoulders that taper down to the perfectly proportioned waist.

“I hope you like it.”

I cut the smile and add a nod. What does he want me to say? I’m not staying here. I’m not gonna be his wife. I do not give a shit what promise was made. I belong to someone else.

A few minutes later and we are on the ground and everything becomes all rush, rush. I have never understood the hustle involved with boarding and disembarking a helicopter. Why must they pull me along like we’re in some kind of war zone?

I go with it. Vincent’s grip on my arm is tight. Tighter than is normal. And I wonder how worried he is about me running off into some unfamiliar woods as he drags me away from the rotating blades and ushers me up a series of steps that lead to the back patio of an imposing Mediterranean-style mansion.

Even though the Spanish tile roof and warm stucco exterior might look welcoming in bright sunshine, the dusk makes it look ominous. “Where are we?” I finally ask as we slow our pace and he straightens out his shirt collar.

“North of Santa Barbara.”

“How the hell did we get to Santa Barbara from Newport Beach in a sailboat?” More importantly, how will James find me here? I’m not all that up on my American West Coast geography, but I think that’s a fair distance.

“We motored up the coast,” he answers back. “It’s difficult to navigate up the California coast in a sailboat.”

“We must’ve been hauling ass.”

“Language, Harper,” he says, only half paying attention as he reaches for my hand.

I shake it off. “Don’t,” I growl at him. “I might be your prisoner for now, but I’m not your fucking child to admonish.”

He snatches my hand and yanks me into his chest. “Manners, Harper Tate.” His steely gaze transfixes me. His green eyes flash. “I was told you have them. Was I lied to?”

I match his gaze and refuse to bend. “I have manners. But I’m not sure you deserve them.”

He loosens his grip on my hand and exhales. “Please,” he says, pressing his fingertips to the space between his eyes like he has a headache. “I don’t like the language and I don’t like the attitude. We’re both tired. We’ve been through a lot. And we’re going to freshen up and have a nice dinner so we can chat.”