Gloves Off: a marriage of convenience hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 4)

“Volkov is a machine,” my dad says at dinner that night, shaking his head with admiration. The food in my mouth turns to dry sand. The Storm game is on mute in the other room so my dad can keep an eye on the score.

He’s a huge Storm fan.

Across the table, Jordan and I look at each other. After getting to know them while we were roommates in university, she’s close with my parents. She always comes to these dinners, and tonight especially I need her here for support.

“Can we turn the game off during dinner, please?” I ask with a forced smile.

My dad looks at me like I’m ridiculous. “This is an important game.” His eyes go back to the screen. It’s the only time he’s distracted from his family, when hockey’s on. “It sounds like his work ethic is beyond any of the other players. That’s probably how he’s had such a long career.” He looks to me. “You should study him in your program. The guy recovers from injury like no one else.”

I’m well aware. I clench my molars together. Jordan makes a muffled noise behind her hand, and I point my fork at her. “You better be choking and not laughing.”

My dad gives me a teasing look in between glances at the game. “Georgia, you always get so twitchy about the guy. Do you have a crush on him or something?” His eyes glint and my mom laughs.

Jordan’s eyes bore into me. Do it now, her expression says.

“He’s going to win the Norris trophy again,” my dad says.

I take a deep breath. Photos of the wedding are already surfacing online. I don’t want them to find out from someone else.

Ugh. That terrible kiss. My stomach rolls at the memory. “I have something to tell you guys.”

“Again?” my mom asks my dad. “He’s won it more than once?”

“Three times.” He nods with enthusiasm. “That’s what’s so impressive⁠—”

“I got married,” I blurt out, and both my parents slowly turn to me. Jordan puts her head in her hands.

My dad blinks, fork hovering in midair. “Excuse me?”

“Did you say you got married?” my mom repeats.

My heart hammers up into my throat. If anyone’s going to see right past me, it’s them. “Yep.” I can’t get a full breath. I feel sick. “To Volkov.”

My dad turns the game off, and silence stretches between all of us. I can hear my pulse in my ears. I stare at the table, but I can feel their gazes searing me.

My mom is the first to break the silence. “You called him a stubborn, conceited, sexist pig who thinks he knows better than everyone.”

Well, he is. My chin dips in a nod. “Yes. I said that.”

“You hate him.” My dad rears back. “I can’t say a word about him without you going red in the face.”

I just keep staring at the table. Also true. Why did I think this would work? I’m a day in and the plan is crumbling into dust.

My parents look at each other before they break out in beaming grins.

“Knew it.” My mom shakes her head, eyes sparkling. “What did I say, Shane?”

Uh, what? I’m flooded with relief. Guilt follows, because I’m lying to them.

“You knew it,” he confirms with a proud nod before he gives me a teasing look. “Honey, you can’t fool us. We know you too well.”

“You didn’t know it.” My voice holds a touch of defensiveness.

“We did,” Mom insists. “He’s the only player you have such a strong response to.”

“Because he’s such an asshole.” She gives me a strange look. “Because he was such an asshole,” I amend. “When we first met. And now he’s great. I—” I force the words out. “I love him.”

Jordan closes her eyes, her mouth tightening like she’s trying not to laugh.

“How long have you two been together?” my mom asks. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I think about what Volkov and I agreed upon. “We just, uh… didn’t think it was going anywhere.”

My discomfort must be written all over my face, because my mom reaches out and gives my arm a squeeze. “It’s okay. We know being vulnerable is hard for you after the whole Liam thing.”

My blood pressure skyrockets. I hate when she brings it up so casually like that. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I thank the universe every single day that my mom called and asked three times if I was very, very sure this was what I wanted, and on the last time, when I didn’t answer, she booked me a flight home to Vancouver before calling the UBC admissions people to reverse the change.

“I’m just saying, we’re thrilled you’re in love.” She gives me a soft smile. “I’m not surprised he fell in love with you. You’re extremely lovable.” She winks at Jordan. “You, too, baby. You two are catches. Anyone would be lucky to be with either of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thanks, Cece.” Jordan gives her a tiny, amused smile.

“So when do we get to meet him?” my dad asks.

“He’s really busy with games and training.”

Maybe I can put them off until the spring, when his season is over. By that time, we could already be separated, and there would be no point.

“Next weekend? Let’s set a date.” My mom pulls out her phone, bringing up her calendar. “Or we can come to your place.” Her eyes light up with realization. “Are you already living together?”

“We’re in the middle of moving my things.” Sort of. I spent most of this afternoon packing while my two pet bunnies, Stefan and Damon, became increasingly nervous.

I doubt Volkov would let me bring them when I move in, so I’m going to have to sneak them into his house.

My mom makes a sad face between me and Jordan. “Aw. End of an era.”

I sink a little, because I’ll miss living with Jordan. She knows every version of me and still loves me, and I still love her.

It’s only temporary, though. One year maximum. Maybe we can live together after.

“Thanksgiving?” My mom’s still scrolling through her calendar. Canadian Thanksgiving is in a few weeks.noveldrama

Ugh. The idea of Volkov meeting my parents is bad enough, but at an intimate family gathering? God, no.

“He’s away for a road trip.” I think I remember seeing that on the calendar.

“Don’t tell us you’re embarrassed of us.” My dad pretends to look offended. “We’re the cool parents. I won’t even ask him for an autograph.”

I start to smile. Growing up, my parents were at least a decade younger than all the other parents. All my friends had crushes on at least one of them, sometimes both.

They aren’t going to let this go. An idea hits me.

“I’ll bring him to the Halloween party.”

My parents’ Halloween party is a yearly event. My mom is a costume designer on film sets, so she goes all out on costumes. As a kid, my costumes blew everyone’s out of the water. I still remember her staying up until the early hours of the morning, sewing sequins onto my princess dresses. With help from her set design colleagues, my dad wires up elaborate, spooky lighting in the front yard, making the house look haunted. All my mom’s film friends show up, and everyone’s costumes are intense.

My mom sinks in disappointment. “That’s ages away.”

And there will be a ton of people packed into this house. They’ll be busy hosting, with no time to focus on how much I definitely am not in love with Volkov.

I glance around at my parents’ modest home that they bought a few years ago, once my dad’s electrician business took off. Am I ready for Volkov to learn I didn’t have the upbringing he thought I did?

It doesn’t matter. He’s going to find out eventually.

“He’s really busy,” I repeat. “And with my work at the hospital, schedules can be tricky.”

“Okay.” My mom shrugs. “We’ll wait until Halloween. I can help you source a costume if you’d like.”

I try not to look too gleeful at the prospect of forcing Volkov into a costume. I already have ideas. “I’d love that.”

When I glance at my dad, though, he’s giving me a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure about this, Georgia? It seems fast.”

We’re close enough that I could probably tell them everything, and they’d probably understand why I’m doing this. They could be interviewed about Volkov and his parents’ citizenship, though, and I’d never want to get them in trouble.

“I know it’s fast.” I need to think of something convincing. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Not a lie. I look to Jordan. Help me, I say with my eyes.

“They’re perfect for each other,” she tells my parents. Her mouth curves into a wry smile. “You’ll see.”

I give her a strange look, but my dad steeples his hands together with a deep breath. “Okay. Georgia, you’re a grown woman, you can make your own decisions. We just want you to be happy and healthy.” He lets out a short laugh. “I guess you get that inheritance now.”

A weight clunks in my stomach. I’m not stupid enough to hope they forgot. They were furious when they found out about the clause in the will. And I’m definitely not stupid enough to pretend I forgot.

“Mhm.” I sip my water. My blood pressure rises.

“It’s okay if you feel weird about accepting the money.” My mom leans her chin on her palm, giving me a sympathetic look. “It’s not from a good place, but it doesn’t matter. It’s yours.”

“I, um, I’m going to accept it. I’m giving it to the hospital.” I look up, meeting their eyes. “For the athlete injury recovery program.”

They stare at me for a long time. Terror spikes up my throat. I haven’t said a word about the program getting axed, but they know what it means to me.

They’ve figured it out.

“God, we’re proud of you.” My dad hangs his head, smiling. “How did we get such a good kid?” he asks my mom.

“We raised her right.” She glances down at the floor. “Hugo Greene is probably rolling in his grave at you using the money to help people.”

I laugh. “I didn’t think of that.”

“And you know what we always say,” my dad adds.

“The higher the heels,” I raise my glass, “the closer to heaven.”

My mom laughs. “That’s my girl.”

“Not quite.” He grins between us, amused.

“More sequins, more sparkles.”

He chuckles. “Also no. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

“Hear, hear.” My mom toasts with Jordan, who knows that lesson better than anyone.

My dad looks to Jordan. “We’re proud of you, too, kid. Running that bar by yourself. Self-made, working hard.”

“Your mom would be proud,” my mom says.

“Thanks, guys.” Jordan’s eyes flicker with emotion before she blinks and it’s gone.

That’s what I love about my parents—they treat Jordan like another daughter.

My stress level descends to normal as the conversation moves on. On the ride home, Jordan looks over at me from the driver’s seat.

“They bought it.”

I nod, staring out the window as we pass the houses in my parents’ neighborhood. “Let’s hope everyone else does, too.”