Page 122 of Gloves Off

“You want to get out of here?” I ask.

She glances around the event space. “Are we allowed to leave?”

“Sure. Dinner’s over. We can do what we want.”

“Okay.” She holds my gaze, and I can’t read her expression. “Let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER 57

GEORGIA

We makeour way back to the hotel room in tense silence.

She left him at the altar,a voice whispers, a protective surge rising in my blood.

And the way he looked tonight, watching his highlight reel. My chest aches. More than ever, I regret recommending him for retirement. I was acting on my tangled and blurry emotions.

In the elevator, our eyes meet, and my pulse skips a beat. The air is thick with tension. We’re not supposed to mess around, but the knowing interest in his eyes says he doesn’t care.

I don’t think I care, either. I forget why we weren’t supposed to.

Inside the room, he holds my gaze, removing his jacket and loosening his tie, undoing the buttons of his shirt while my heart pounds in my ears. His mouth tilts and he takes a seat in the chair across from the bed. He leans back, spreads out, and watches me, so wildly handsome and serious. The image is like an advertisement in one of my fashion magazines—stacked muscle, dark, possessive eyes, and a knowing smirk.

It’s thewho can break firstgame. My competitive instincts wake up.

A memory flashes into my head: his tight, jealous expression at my sleep shirt, the one from an old hookup. That shirt is how I’m going to win this game.

When I open my suitcase, though, it’s not there. None of the undergarments I packed are.

I hook a finger beneath a plum lacy strap, lifting the garment. It’s high-end, similar to what the designer sent along with my dress. My blood starts to hum. I’m smiling, though.

“Volkov.” I turn, holding it so he can see. He lounges in the chair with an undeterred expression. “What the hell is this?”

“No idea.”

“Where’s my stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“My panties, Alexei. You messed with my bag.”

He must have done it this morning. He said he’d bring my bag to the arena. Why am I smiling?

“Maybe I just like buying you things.”

I let out a high laugh of disbelief. “After years of making fun of me for shopping? I doubt it.”

It’s some kind of sick power game he’s playing. I should hate being controlled like this, and yet I get a flutter between my legs at the idea of wearing lingerie he bought for me.

He wants to play a game? I’m in.

“How thoughtful of you.” It’s the hotel room all over again.I am here to play. “Guess I should try it on.”

“Guess you should.”

I can’t get a full breath as I turn my back to him, feeling the weight of his attention. It’s different than the hotel room. I don’t know how. Maybe it feels like we’re playing for fun now, instead of a way to get back at each other.

Off comes my dress and heels, leaving me in the undergarments the designer sent.

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