Page 53 of Gloves Off

“Should I...” I’m already backing toward the door to the garage. “I should leave.”

I don’t want to meet them.

He shakes his head. “Don’t bother. She’ll find you.”

A cold knot gathers in my stomach.

For someone to turn out like Alexei Volkov, his parents have to be truly awful. Cold and brutal, like him. They raised him in an ice cave, making him do thousands of push-ups before his daily breakfast of gruel and old, dried bones. Emotions disgust them. They probably both have short, practical military haircuts, and take freezing cold showers every morning.

I’m already using all of my energy to deal with him, but three Volkovs? I’m going to crumble.

Beneath my hesitation, though, Iamcurious about them. He married me for their citizenship, too. He must care about them.

The doorbell rings. My stomach turns over with nausea. His eyes meet mine, hard and callous.

“If you’re rude to my parents in any way, if you say anything to offend them, we’re done. The deal is off.”

Stunned and hurt, I blink at him. “Okay,” I say, feeling two inches tall.

Just when I thought his opinion of me couldn’t get any lower, it does. I swallow and brace myself.

CHAPTER 27

GEORGIA

He opens the door,and I’m ready for Ms. Trunchbull fromMatilda,mean and bitter. Towering over me at seven feet tall.

The woman on the front step is tiny, though, barely reaching my shoulder, holding a potted plant, her warm smile reaching ear to ear. Behind her, a tall man gives my husband a friendly nod.

She starts talking to Volkov in fast Russian, eyes shining as she launches into the house. She gives him a playful tap on the ribs, saying something in a scolding tone. I catch the wordSvettain there.

When she sees me, she falls silent and her smile broadens, the apples of her cheeks popping.

She’s adorable. I could put her in my pocket. This can’t be his mother.

“You must be Georgia,” she says in a light Russian accent, handing the plant to Volkov, who’s staring at it with a dark expression.

She beams harder, coming at me with outstretched arms. Is she going to try to strangle me? Is her warm, welcoming smile a distraction while she elbows me in the solar plexus?

“Maria Volkova. So happy to meet you. My Alexei didn’t say a word about you. That’s how I knew you were pretty.” She looks me over like she’s pleased with what she sees. “But you’re more than pretty, aren’t you? You’re beautiful.”

I blink at her. My words don’t work.

Maria wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight. I’m frozen. She’s hugging me. Alexei’s mother is hugging me. She smells nice, like lilacs.

She tilts her head at my giant pink crystal. “That has a very good energy.”

“That’s what I said.” I smile in surprise. “Alexei thinks it looks like a—” I clamp my mouth shut, and Maria’s lips press together. The man behind her coughs like he’s covering a laugh.

“That shape and size can be very intimidating for men.” Maria nods with a serious expression, but her eyes glitter. She gestures at the man behind her. “This is Alexei’s father, Nikita.”

The large man looks like an older version of Volkov, has the same dark, almost black hair but with silver at the temples. Same brutal lines of his face. His eyes are kind, though.

“Nikita Volkov,” he says in a low voice, with a strong Russian accent, holding his hand out.

We shake hands. “Georgia Greene.”

“Good to meet you.”

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