Page 44 of Test the Ice
No one this sexy in a suit should have an air of unease around him too. My pulse quickens, and I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel.
“I got you something,” he finally says.
“I hope it’s a divorce,” I joke.
His jaw unhinges. “We’re not even married yet, and you’re asking for a divorce?”
I roll my eyes playfully and somehow keep my mouth from forming a smile. “We’re not getting married, and we’re not engaged,” I remind him.
Malaki lifts a hip and shoves his fingers into his pocket. He keeps his hand clasped and holds it over my center console. “Open your hand, Dimples.”
I sigh and do as he says. “If this is a ring, I swear–”
My sentence is cut off by thatexactthing dropping into my palm.
“You swear what?” Malaki mocks.
“Malaki.” I plan for his name to sound like I'm chastising him, but instead, it comes out as an airy whisper.
I stare at the prettiest diamond I’ve ever seen.
I’ve never held something so expensive before.
It makes my skin itch.
I clear my throat. “You know the only reason I asked to see you this morning was to tell you that we cannot go through with this.”
And fine. Maybe I wanted to see him one more time.
For what?
I don’t know. I just…did.
Zoe is all for this engagement.
Malaki too, if that shiny ring has anything to say about it.
Apparently, I’m the only one not.
Malaki steals the ring out of the palm of my hand, his fingers sweeping against the skin quickly. Heat races up my arm, and I jerk my hand away.
This isexactly why we can’t go through with this. I’m too affected by him, too blinded by shiny things. If I entertain this idea of a fake engagement with a pro hockey player in an attempt to trick Benedict and the justice system into thinking I have my shit together, it’ll blow up in my face. Because newsflash: I do not have my shit together.
Malaki twirls the ring in between two fingers and gazes out the passenger window. Some more of his teammates are walking toward the bus with their bags slung over their shoulders, which means he’s going to have to go.
“I thought I was pretty convincing last night,” he says, gliding his gaze over to me. “I mean, I already got you a ring.”
I push my back into my seat. “I didn’t ask you to do that, though.”
An airy chuckle leaves him. “And that’s exactly why I did it.”
There’s an argument on the tip of my tongue, ready to come out, but he cuts me off.
“Your sister said you’d do this.”
I’m instantly irritated. “Do what?” I ask.
He reaches for my hand again, his fingers wrapping around my wrist to gently pull on my arm. With a determined look in his eye, he uncurls my clenched palm to slip the engagement ring onto my finger. “She said you’d push back because you hate when people help you.”
