I started walking again, muttering under my breath about narcissists with accents and unfair jawlines.
He kept pace easily. Of course he did. “I get you for thirty days, you know. Though, if you want to stay longer…” He trailed off casually. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him like he’d just suggested we run away to the woods and start a goat farm. “Longer? You’re lucky I haven’t pepper-sprayed you after tonight.”
“Fair,” he said with a shrug. “But I am charming. You will forgive me.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, that’s how it works? You get to be a smirky menace and I’m just supposed to swoon and be like, ‘Oh Nikolai, take me now, you emotionally confusing glacier!’”
He leaned in slightly, voice lowering like a secret. “Is that what you call me? A glacier?”
“No,” I snapped. “I call you a walking hockey penalty.”
He laughed. Laughed. Like I was telling jokes at a comedy club instead of hurling insults with all the grace of a glitter cannon on fire.
We reached my Uber just as it rolled into the lot. I grabbed the handle and turned back to him, pausing.
“Don’t follow me home,” I said.
“I won’t,” he promised, lifting his hands. “Not tonight.”
I frowned. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s not,” he said smoothly. “It’s a countdown.”
I didn’t slam the car door—but I thought about it. A lot.
And as we pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
He was still standing there. Smirking. Waiting.
Like he already knew I’d be back.
Chapter 2
Nikolai
The locker room was loud. It always was. Too many voices. Too much testosterone and too little purpose.
I sat at my stall, head down, taping my stick with the precision of a surgeon and the patience of a saint. Every wrap had its place. Symmetrical. Perfect. There was something almost holy about it. In a game of chaos, this was order. Ritual.
“Hey, Volkov!” Asher called, towel slapping across the back of Christian’s pale shoulders. “Think you’ll actually show up to this game, or are you too busy chasing your next conquest?”
I didn’t look up at first. Not worth the effort. Then, casually, I lifted my gaze. “If by conquest, you mean wagering a woman like a casino chip, then yes. I am present.”
My tone was even. Cold. Maybe a little amused. Maybe not.
Laughter exploded from the stalls. Ethan clutched his side like he’d been stabbed. “Man’s got a point! At least he’s not out here putting his girlfriend on the table like a pair of dice.”
Asher grinned, unbothered. “Don’t let Petrov's girl hear that.”
Her. Sharp in the air. I didn’t flinch, but I heard it. Felt it. Like the drop of a puck before a fight.
I tore the tape at the end of my blade cleanly. Tight. Uncompromising. Like me.
Mina was not a name for locker room banter. Not a prize. Not a punchline. She was?—
I crushed the thought. Useless. Focus.
