Page 58 of Gloves Off

“Mhm.”

He blinks, eyes cold and hard. “That’s weird.”

Predictable. Just like Liam. I start walking to the library, where I left a few of my things last night, when his voice stops me.

“This isn’t going to be a recurring problem, is it, Doctor?”

God, I fucking hope not. “Don’t flatter yourself, Volkov.”

I’m grabbing my things from the library when a book slides out from between my laptop and my file folder.

Flowers and Their Meanings. The book is old, weathered, and dog-eared, with a broken spine. The pages are yellow with age.

I frown at it. I didn’t put this here.

Earlier tonight, Maria excused herself for a moment before she returned minutes later, wearing a private smile. She must have slipped this into my stuff.

I flip through the old book. Water stains blur some of the illustrations, and I find the copyright page—it’s almost forty years old.

Alexei used to work in my shop after school and on the weekends,she had said. I think about the way she narrowed her eyes at the yellow flowers and the guilty look on his face.

He knows about flowers? His dark, glittering eyes and half smirk replay in my head. If the plant she gave me meansgood luck in a marriage,what do those flowers mean?

I don’t know what they’re called, but I find an illustration of the flowers, blooms the size of coins.

Blue Tansy—hostile thoughts, declaration of war.

My jaw drops and I laugh out loud. “Unbelievable.”

I didn’t think he had it in him. A tiny spark of respect glows in my chest.

I’m still going to get him back, though. I can’t let him win.

Volkov wants to declare war? Game on.

CHAPTER 29

ALEXEI

The next week,I’m about to take a seat beside Owens on the plane to Los Angeles when he gives me an odd look.

“I thought you’d want to sit with your new wife.”

I lift my bag to the overhead bin. Rarely does she travel with the team to away games, a couple times a season at most.

He gestures over his shoulder and I catch sight of that familiar auburn hair. She’s sitting five rows behind us, in the window seat, earbuds in and staring out the window.

She wasn’t home when I left for the airport. Was she at the hospital again? When I picked her car up the other day, I used the spare keys she left in the kitchen, found the car in the spot she texted me directions to—with her name on it—and returned it without even going inside the hospital.

I wanted to, though. How did I not know she worked there?

What else don’t I know about her?

“It’s fine,” Owens says. “Go sit with her.”

My gaze lingers on her. She’s wearing a little frown, like she’s concentrating. It would look weird if I didn’t want to sit next to her. We’re supposed to be happily married.

When I put my bag into the bin above her, she pops an earbud out and gives me a flat look. “What are you doing?” she asks quietly as I take the seat beside her.

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