Page 72 of Gloves Off

“Put your fucking wedding ring on.Now.”

CHAPTER 36

ALEXEI

“So,is he Dr. Handjob because he gives himself hand jobs,” my irritating, stunning wife asks when we arrive at the grand old home in Shaughnessy, “or is it because you thinkI’mgoing to give him one tonight?”

Jealousy pounds through me like a drum. She’s trying to get a rise out of me. I can tell from the teasing tone of her voice, the spark in her warm whiskey eyes.

Jesus fucking Christ, she looks good tonight. Took my goddamned breath away when I saw her standing there in the foyer, looking like a million bucks. My fingers itch to run through her soft, wavy hair like I did during that kiss at the airport.

And those shoes. Black velvet, red soles, with a bow on each ankle. I’m going to be thinking about those bows all week.

My teeth grit. “You are not giving him a hand job.”

Her lips curve. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. I can’t stop thinking abouther.

I hate this.

A staff member for the event ushers us through the mansion and into the ballroom. This house is so big, it has a fuckingballroom. She probably grew up in a home just like it. My eyes flick to her dress again.

“Why are you always wearing this sparkly shit?”

“Because I lovethis sparkly shit. It makes me happy. Do you know what ‘happy’ is, Volkov?”

She kissed me back. You can’t fake that kind of kiss—but apparently she was picturing someone else.

“Yes, Hellfire, I remember what happy feels like. When we divorce, I’m sure I’ll feel it again.”

Her eyes flash with competition, her pretty lips part, and she’s about to say something when we’re interrupted by some guy with his eyes all over her.

“Georgia.”

Her face lights up with a radiant smile. “Eric.”

So this is Dr. Handjob. This is who she actually wanted to kiss.

“You look beautiful, as always.” He leans in to kiss her cheek.

My eyebrows go up. Is this guy for real? Calling her beautiful, right in front of me?

She is, but still. That’s for me to say, not him.

My hand comes to her waist, pulling her against me. She gives me an amused, sidelong look that I ignore. He’s still gazing at her with wonder, admiration, and longing. Fuckinglonging?

He likes her. This guy wants my wife.

“Thanks. Sorry about the last-minute change.” She flicks an unimpressed look at me. “Volkov got home early.”

The event was sold out, but with a sizable donation to the hospital and a few photos and autographs, the organizers hurried to find a seat for me. Being a professional hockey player opens doors like that, thankfully, because there was no way I was letting this guy hang on to the doctor all evening.

Dr. Handjob’s eyes move to me. “This must be your husband.” He sticks his hand out. “Eric Handley.”

“Alexei Volkov.” We shake hands. Mine is bigger.

He looks to the doctor with a teasing smile. “You call your husband Volkov, Georgia?”

I don’t like how friendly they are. She doesn’t joke with me like that and she sure as shit doesn’t smile at me like that.

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