Page 35 of Gloves Off

I think about the guy she was talking to earlier, and frustration courses through me all over again. “I guess so, Hellfire.”

Forty-five minutes later, I’m hit with her next move.

I sit in the front room, reading through team emails on my phone, when she descends the stairs. My eyes land on her shoes, first. Sparkly, strappy, and sky-high.

Fuck-meheels.

CHAPTER 16

GEORGIA

My horrible husbanddoes a double-take at my outfit, gaze snagging on my legs, my waist, my neckline, my hair before his jaw tightens.

His lip curls in disgust. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

I dug all the way to the back of my closet for this dress. Long sleeves, a low square neckline, a mid-thigh hem, every inch covered in copper sequins. Bold and loud and showy. A showstopper, my mom called it when she gifted it from one of her film sets.

His disapproval makes me see red.Fucking asshole!every cell in my body chants. Liam never liked me wearing flashy stuff, either.That sure is bright,he once commented about a dress I wanted to wear to a mixer for the new medical students and their partners. He didn’t like attention being drawn to me when it could be on him.

“Yes, Volkov.” I summon all the feminine power I can, straightening my shoulders. His eyes flick back to my cleavage, and I get a hit of satisfaction. “I want everyone to know howinsecureI am.”

Clothes say something about us. They’re a way to communicate with the world. People see what we wear and interpret a message, whether we mean it or not. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. Sometimes I wear sweatpants, my hair in a messy bun, and a T-shirt with a hole near the armpit I’ve had since university, and I don’t care what message people infer.

Tonight, though, after the blowup we had this afternoon, I’mwearing a dress that saysI’m not backing down.I’m ready for a fight. This dress saysI know I look goodandeat your heart outandI don’t need you.

Something flashes in his eyes. On a normal person, I’d call it regret, but I’m sure the only thing Volkov regrets is that he didn’t twist the knife in deeper.

“Besides,” I tuck my phone and cards into my clutch, “I’m sure your teammates won’t mind.”

I love my body. I’m hot. I have nice boobs and a great butt. I’m toned and strong from soccer. My body is awesome. Do I look like my mom or Darcy, petite and thin? No. But different doesn’t mean worse, or less.

It’s what I always say to the girls at soccer: you don’t need to look like the Photoshopped people in magazines to be gorgeous.

It’s clear what body type Volkov prefers, though, as his gaze finds the hem of my short dress, and he looks like he’s going to be sick.

He stares at me, unamused, before his gaze flicks to my heels. “Never miss a chance to show off, do you?”

The silver lining of this whole situation is that Volkov was forced to marry a woman he doesn’t find hot. These hockey players are used to getting everything they want. They’re so competitive, and they love to win. He won’t be able to change this ass or these boobs, though. He’ll have to live with them for an entire year.

My mouth curves into a smug smile. I’m about to make an aloof comment and breeze out of here, when something on the foyer table catches my eye.

A small bouquet of bright yellow flowers sits in a short vase. Each bloom is the size of a large coin. They’re not ugly, they just don’t look like a typical floral arrangement.

“For you.” He watches me with a weird look in his dark eyes. Interest mixed with... not amusement. Entertainment.

He’s laughing at me, but I don’t get the joke.

“For me.” I arch an eyebrow. Why would Volkov buy me flowers? “Are they poison or something?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Now, why would I poison my wife, Doctor?”

He probably got them as a gift and is just messing with me. “I can think of a few reasons, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

The car ride is silent and tense.

How the hell am I going to do this for an entire year? Maybe I can move out but leave enough of my things at his place to make itlooklike I live there.

“What, are you nervous or something?” he asks, breaking the silence.

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