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I reach for the elevator call button and press it again. I don’t want to spend more time with this spoiled brat than I have to. I cannot fucking stand Dr. Georgia Greene.
At the words old guy, her lips curve into a sick smile. “Maybe I’ll marry you.” “When hell freezes over.” I would never marry, let alone marry her.
“Violets. Every Friday, you wear the perfume that smells like violets.”
Doctors are supposed to wear ugly Crocs, not sexy little fuck-me heels. I hate them, and I hate how much I think about them.
I don’t hate her because she’s so similar to my ex, Emma—charismatic, friendly, confident, gorgeous—and I don’t hate her because she knows exactly how hot she is. I don’t even hate the doctor because she comes from wealth and privilege. I hate her because she doesn’t believe in me.
“Are you saying I should marry a Canadian for citizenship?” My first thought is the doctor before I shove that thought away, fast.
I would never get married. It’s too easy for men to use marriage as a tool to control women.
“Hazel Hartley,” he announces, and Rory Miller, the Storm’s captain, cups his hands to his mouth. “That’s my girl!” he yells down the hall toward the arena.
Miller elbows Owens. “You ready to pop the question?” After practice this morning, Owens showed us the engagement ring he had made for Darcy.
“I don’t want that kind of marriage. I want a business arrangement.” Jordan’s nodding. “No feelings.” If anyone would understand, it’s her. She doesn’t do relationships, either.
From what ive heard thats not the case for much longer..
“Dickhead,” I mutter, flipping him the bird behind his back as he walks away. There’s no way I’d ever fall for that asshole.
the realization sinks in. The doctor and I are getting married.
“It’s you.” I’m still beaming at him like he’s the love of my life. “You’re the something old, Volkov.”
“I don’t love you and I never will,” he murmurs. I huff a silent laugh. “This isn’t a real marriage, and when it’s over, I won’t miss you.”
“That was the worst kiss of my life,” I whisper so only he can hear, smiling serenely like the besotted bride I’m supposed to be. “That was like kissing the dead body at a funeral.” A terrible kiss and absolutely no spark. Exactly what our marriage will be.
“I did always wonder if you guys were going to,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “hate fuck.” My face burns hot. “Darcy.” She starts laughing. “What? You two have all that sexual tension.”
“We hooked up after the double date.” “Cool.” Hayden grins at Darcy. “So did we.”
I think about our wedding, how beautiful she looked as she spat insults at me. How the hairs on my arm rose when I put the ring on her finger. The way my heart beat out of my chest as I kissed her. The second our mouths met, an electric shock ran through me. I froze up. I never freeze up. I don’t know what happened.
My two bunnies stare up at me forlornly. Damon and Stefan are twenty-pound lionhead rabbits,
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters. It’s the picture from our wedding day, of our terrible kiss. Beside the photo, a Congratulations! sign.
This isn’t a dinner to welcome the new players. It’s a wedding reception—for us.
She does look hot tonight, though. That dress. I fucking hate that dress. I love that dress. I’m trying to ignore her but I’m obsessed with it, sneaking glances when she’s not looking.
If this is how he kisses when he doesn’t like someone, what’s it like when he does?
“No fucking other guys.” He leans in, inches from my face, glaring deep into my eyes. A shiver of anticipation runs through me. “I don’t share. This year, you’re my wife. Mine.”
Wait. “Who do you think Stefan and Damon are?” “Your boyfriends.” A delighted choking noise scrapes out of my throat. I press my lips together so I don’t laugh. Oh, this is good. This is so good.
“Oh, darlings,” she calls, opening the bathroom door. “I’m home. There they are,” she says proudly, with that big grin on her annoying, gorgeous face. “My boyfriends.” On the floor, a giant ball of dryer lint makes a squeaking noise.
“If you’re rude to my parents in any way, if you say anything to offend them, we’re done. The deal is off.”
She’s hugging me. Alexei’s mother is hugging me. She smells nice, like lilacs.
“I expected evil troll people, but your parents are actually nice.” Something Maria said pops into my head. “What did she call me? Sol . . . something.” “Solnyshko.” “Right. That. What does that mean?” “Sunshine.”
Blue Tansy—hostile thoughts, declaration of war. My jaw drops and I laugh out loud. “Unbelievable.”
He’s wearing glasses, too. Hockey players shouldn’t wear glasses. It makes them look too hot.
Before I can say anything, though, he tosses something through the air, and I catch it. My wedding ring. His hard, determined expression burns me. “Put your fucking wedding ring on. Now
“Georgia went on to get a full scholarship to the University of British Columbia Women’s Soccer team.” I turn to her, shock written all over my face. To play on a university team, you have to be good. I didn’t know she was an athlete. She ignores me.
Did I just spend a hundred grand because I was jealous? Yes, and I’d do it again.
“I do hate you.” He doesn’t look away. Why is that so hot? “But I still want to fuck you.”
Georgia and I look at each other in shock. Our parents are already friends
I thought she was spoiled, selfish, and privileged, but she’s dedicated to her career, hard-working, and well-liked by her colleagues. I thought she had everything growing up, but she may have had even less than I did. I thought her parents would be conceited, insufferable snobs, but they’re warm, down to earth, and welcoming. I thought I hated Dr. Georgia Greene, but I think I may have been very, very wrong.
Volkov has been calling me his dirty, decaying, rotten turnip that you wouldn’t even feed to the pigs. I have to hand it to him—I’m impressed, and very, very entertained.
Alexei cooks. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot.
Oh god. I think I might be developing a crush on my fake husband.
Before I can turn, though, he’s at my back, warm and bare-chested. He reaches past me to lean on the dresser, caging me in. His lips meet the sensitive spot between my neck and my shoulder, and my thoughts scatter. “You look like a fucking dream, Georgia.”
“Are we doing this again, Hellfire?” God, yes, I want to say. Fucking finally. “I don’t care,” I say instead.
I shake my head, watching her walk away with an uneasy feeling in my gut. The puzzle pieces slide into place. I know why she sleepwalks.
At the mention of Ward’s name, Jordan stiffens.
Wishing I could call her my wife for real. The last thought isn’t even a concern anymore. That’s how far gone I am. I don’t care if she’s not there yet. I’ll be patient. I’ll wait until my wife is ready.
Miller groans. “We’re not listening to your fairy porn, Owens.”
I clear my throat. “Gardenia?” He nods. That’s what I was hoping for, but that’s what I was also afraid of. Gardenia—secret love
A partner, like what my parents have. God, I want it to be him. “With the right person, I would want kids.” He looks at me for a long time. I’d give anything to hear his thoughts. “Me too,” he finally says. “With the right person, I want kids.”
“I needed to get home to my wife.” Well, if I hadn’t been in love with the man before, I am now.
Georgia and I stare at each other in silence. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. “Your citizenship has been approved,”
