Page 18 of Ice Block

“Yeah, I know they are. How did they get there?”

“You asked, so I got them for you. You were sleeping, snoring in fact. I figured you needed the rest, so I got what you asked for. The proper thing to say, I believe, is…how do you say this in English…oh, right. Thank you, Vladi.”

I roll my eyes, knowing he probably speaks better English than half of the American population. “‘Eat shit and die’ was more what I was thinking.”

“If you don’t want the snacks, I’ll happily take them back.”

“NO,” I say, grabbing the box and clutching it to my chest. I clear my throat, gritting my teeth as I force words I never thought I’d say after everything, “Thank you for the snacks.”

He cups his ear, leaning over the armrest. “What was that? These planes are so loud, I didn’t quite hear that.”

This motherfucker.“You heard me just fine, asshole.”

“I certainly heard asshole if that’s something you’d like to reminisce about,” he murmurs with a wink.

I can actually feel my nose flaring.Is that a thing?Pretty sure I could fit this entire snack box up there right now.

“Thank you for the snacks…Vladi…but let’s go back to not talking, okay? Let me eat these pretzels and gummy bears in peace.”

THUD!

The plane jumps up and down and my stomach does the same. I instinctively grab the armrest, only it’s not the armrest I grab. It’s Vladi’s hand.Fuck, I want to hold it.I look back and forth between our hands and his face. He flips his hand over, his palm grabbing mine, shifting his body toward me.

“We don’t have to talk, but I know you’re frightened. Hold my hand. Squeeze the ever-loving shit out of it. Dig your nails in deep. Whatever you need. Use me,lisichkaI can take it. Then we’ll go back to pretending to be strangers.”

Use me?Goddammit.Why does he have to say shit like that? Especially in that sexy-as-fuck Russian accent.

I swallow and slowly nod, immediately looking out the window as he holds my hand. Tears well, and I force them back.What is happening?I hate him. I want him. But I’m scared as hell of this damn turbulence.Justbreathe, Maggie. It’ll be over so—The plane jerks again, and I do as he said, squeezing the shit out of his hand. His rough, calloused hand that seems to be the perfect size to cradle mine. A shiver runs down my spine as his thumb gently rubs along my skin, reassuring me that he’s got me.Goddammit.He can’t do this shit. He doesn’t want a relationship, but this isveryrelationshipy.No, don’t go there. Pull it together, bitch.In this moment, he is just a random person helping you deal with your fear of flying. Forget about the other things he can do to you with that hand. Forget about the pleasure that hand, and the rest of him, can bring you. Focus on the pain of waking up to an empty apartment because this jackass couldn’t deal with saying goodbye. Focus onthe fact that you have to spend a goddamn week with him, and you have to play nice.

The plane lurches again and I dig my nails into his hand. I hear him grunt just a bit, but he doesn’t move.Good.He needs to carry some of the pain he’s forced on me for months. And this is a perfect example of me putting forth a pleasant outwardly front while still torturing him.

A sliver of excitement breaks through the blanket of fear.Maybe this week will be more fun than I thought.

As soon as we get off the plane, I bolt as fast as possible away from Vladi. The sound of a live steel drum band playing in the concourse provides a relaxing soundtrack for most of the travelers, but it’s a comically stark contrast to my chaotic weaving through the crowd and darting around corners to try and lose him in the sea of people. But the flurry of activity does nothing to calm the pit still in my stomach from whatever the fuck happened on the plane.

He’s somehow keeping up with me and my attempted power walk through the airport.Probably because I’m only walking fast-ish in my wedge sandals, and he’s ridiculously tall. His 6’4”, 215 pound extremely fit frame glides through the airport like he’s on his damn skates. Not that I’ve researched his stats extensively or have any of them memorized. Everyone knows his career save percentage is .914, that he has the second most career shutouts in the league, and was the leading goalie in the NHL last season.Okay, maybe I dida littleresearch.But any Riders fan knows he’s down there talking to the ice like a friend during the game. And that he has a snarling wolf riding a motorcycle and a tiny little crescent moon with a heart on his goalie mask. I peek back.They know he has that tattooed on his chest as well, right?Gritting my teeth, I dodge around anannoyingly amorous couple. I’mnotobsessed. I’m just…collecting intel to pass off to his enemies. Tell the opposing teams all his weaknesses.Yep. That’s it. It’s purely for evil, nefarious purposes.

Goddammit…it’s not.As much as I hate him, secretly, my heart wants him to have everything in the world. I just wish it included me.

After grabbing my checked bags, and dragging my carry on through the arrivals area, Vladi is still hovering.Fucker didn’t even check a bag.How do men survive on so little for a week-long trip? He probably has one pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and swim trunks, whereas I have my entire closet spread out in multiple bags. I bet he even packs a bar of soap. He seems like a bar of soap guy, like bodywash would be too much of a luxury for him. He probably doesn’t even use a washcloth, just lathers that lucky bar of soap all over his finely chiseled, toned body as the water drips down his abs to flow down the ridges of that magnificent ‘V’ low on his abdomen…Damnit, Maggie. Get your mind off his hot ass body. We hate him. Remember?

I see a gentleman holding a sign that says “Volkov/James” standing near the ground transportation sign. My stomach fills with butterflies and drops all at once. Now we have to ride in a damn car together.What more does Liv have planned?Vladi walks over and shakes the man’s hand before crooking his finger for me to follow him.

Howdarehe give me the Johnny Castle ‘come here’ motion with his finger. Nobody puts Maggie in a corner. Or a luxury vehicle for that matter. I am my own person, and no one tells me what to do. Jutting my hip out, I feel an annoyed sneer twisting my lips. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a hard pass. You go in your fancy-ass private car. I’ll find my own ride.”

“No. You will come with me.”

I step back, my mouth slightly parted.Okay why does that kindamake me want to let him tell me what to do?No…we hate him Maggie…focus! We are mad at the super hot man telling us what to do.

I take a deep breath, desperate to regain my senses. “Excuse me? I’m a grown ass woman, Vladi. I can manage getting to the resort on my own. Plus, I just got off a terrible flight sitting next toyou, and I’d prefer some alone time, thank you very much,” I spew, glancing around and trying to come up with a plan. I see a guy in the taxi area and motion to him, a big smile on my face. “Excuse me! I need a ride,” I say, sauntering off in his direction.

Until a warm hand tightly grips my arm in a forceful but protective way.

“Lisichka,” he bites, his voice as gruff as it was in my apartment. “You are not riding by yourself. We are in a foreign country. There are people here that prey on beautiful women.” A flicker of panic cuts through his expression. I blink, catching my lip between my teeth.Something is in there that he’s not telling me. Granted I’ve hardly let him get a word in all day, so not knowing could totally be my fault. He tugs me back toward the town car. “Hate me all you want, but you are not getting in a vehicle without me. End of discussion.”

I swallow hard as my heart races. Looking out for me. The way he called me that Russian nickname again.Mental note: figure out how the hell to spell Lish-whatever and google it.A shiver rockets through my body, my skin feeling electrified from a simple command. Apparently, Melissa Joan Heart, didn’t get the memo about hating the wolf. Damn her and her Sabrina witchcraft!

“Fine.We’ll ride together—just know I still hate you.”

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