Page 20 of Gloves Off

My eyes close, my palm comes to his chest, and under his dress shirt, I feel his granite muscles tense. People are applauding and cheering. I guess they can’t see how uncomfortable he is, kissing me. He probably hates my perfume, too, because he’s not even breathing. His lips don’t move. It’s like kissing a statue.

We pull apart. He blinks, stunned, like I just stabbed him in the gut.

“That was the worst kiss of my life,” I whisper so only he can hear, smiling serenely like the besotted bride I’m supposed to be. “That was like kissing the dead body at a funeral.”

A terrible kiss and absolutely no spark. Exactly what our marriage will be.

His eyes dart all over my face. There’s something weird in his expression—confusion. Or maybe surprise. Bemusement?

“That’s not how I kiss.” He frowns.

Relief covers up the fading sting of rejection. Imagine if the kiss with Volkov was actuallygood? Then I’d have real problems.

Deep down, though, I’m a little surprised. I hate the guy, but I have this annoying feeling he’s incredible in bed. I don’t know why I think this—these hockey players are rich, gorgeous, and famous. They don’t need to be good at sex.

Not that I’m thinking about it. And not that I think Volkov is gorgeous, either.

We thank the officiant, thank the witnesses, and walk back toward city hall to file the certificate.

“Put your arm in mine,” he demands under his breath as we walk, as the onlookers call their congratulations.

My pride crackles with defiance at him telling me what to do, but I force myself to slip my hand over the crook of his arm. His arm is like a steel bar, and the fabric of his suit is smooth and high-quality. Wherever he goes for suits, they know what they’re doing.

Inside city hall, it’s much quieter.

“I’ll file the marriage certificate.” He sends me a dismissive look, like when the officiant asked if he wanted to kiss me. “We’re done here.”

So arrogant. Before I can say something sharp and devastating, the elevator doors near us open and he steps inside. They close and he’s gone without another word.

“What, no wedding night?” I mutter to myself as I head to my car. “I thought we had something special.” I glance around to make sure no one can see before I free-throw my bouquet into the nearest garbage can.

And like that, I’m married.

CHAPTER 10

GEORGIA

“Volkov is a machine,”my dad says at dinner that night, shaking his head with admiration. The food in my mouth turns to dry sand. The Storm game is on mute in the other room so my dad can keep an eye on the score.

He’s a huge Storm fan.

Across the table, Jordan and I look at each other. After getting to know them while we were roommates in university, she’s close with my parents. She always comes to these dinners, and tonight especially I need her here for support.

“Can we turn the game off during dinner, please?” I ask with a forced smile.

My dad looks at me like I’m ridiculous. “This is an important game.” His eyes go back to the screen. It’s the only time he’s distracted from his family, when hockey’s on. “It sounds like his work ethic is beyond any of the other players. That’s probably how he’s had such a long career.” He looks to me. “You should study him in your program. The guy recovers from injury like no one else.”

I’m well aware. I clench my molars together. Jordan makes a muffled noise behind her hand, and I point my fork at her. “You better be choking and not laughing.”

My dad gives me a teasing look in between glances at the game. “Georgia, you always get so twitchy about the guy. Do you have a crush on him or something?” His eyes glint and my mom laughs.

Jordan’s eyes bore into me.Do it now,her expression says.

“He’s going to win the Norris trophy again,” my dad says.

I take a deep breath. Photos of the wedding are already surfacing online. I don’t want them to find out from someone else.

Ugh. That terrible kiss. My stomach rolls at the memory. “I have something to tell you guys.”

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