And standing there, watching her say it, hearing the softness, the bravery, and the trust she’s putting in me quietly.
The officiant nods to me, and I take the ring from the little velvet box—the three-and-a-half-carat diamond that cost a ridiculous amount of money for something so small.
I see the moment her eyes widen. It’s obvious she wasn’t expecting me to show up with a diamond wedding ring, but after I saw her in the wedding salon yesterday, I knew she needed something to wear on her finger that symbolized more. Something real, no matter how fake this marriage is supposed to be. Maybe I did it to sell the story to her grandmother, maybe I did it so my mother doesn’t hound me next week about not getting my bride something beautiful… or damn it, maybe I just did it for her. For the sparkle in her eye just now.
I hear her whispers, “Scottie… I wasn’t expecting–” but she doesn’t finish that sentence.
I can feel Luka leaning forward. He was with me yesterday when I stormed past his truck after we left the tux shop—chasing me across three city blocks until I reached the jewelry store I’d spotted on the drive over.
At first, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. “A silver band would do,” he said, but I could tell he was eyeing the diamond rings too. Both of us know that Katerina deserves this and that it’s just another piece to prove legitimacy. My mother would never believe that I bought my bride a metal band. Not a woman who looks like Katerina.
“I wanted you to have something nice,” I say softly, just loud enough for her and Coach Haynes to hear us. “The one thing that’s real in this whole agreement. And maybe because I want to make sure that any asshole who sees you perform from theback of the nosebleeds knows he doesn’t have a shot with you.” I tease.
A glint flashes in her eyes, the first smirk I’ve seen on her face. She knows the score… I’m trying to make this light even though there’s nothing light about a massive engagement ring.
“You’re just some big, dumb, jealous hockey player, aren’t you?” she teases back.
“By the looks of it,” I say, glancing down, watching as I slowly and carefully push the ring onto her perfectly manicured finger, like she’s something fragile and priceless. It fits perfectly. “...I’d say I’m your big, dumb, jealous hockey player.”
She looks at it for a long second, then lifts her eyes to me, and then I see it. It’s the first time she’s ever truly smiled back at me. It’s not forced or for the pictures… this one is real, and it’s just for me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Then I hand her the ring Luka had been holding for me as well, a thick gold band. She slides it on my finger next.
The feeling of her putting it on my finger. The gentle way her fingers move over mine. The spark of skin to skin.
Yeah… I’m done for.
Completely, utterly ruined.
I might just be willing to take a bullet for this woman.
I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter Seven
KATERINA
The moment his mouth touches mine, the world tilts.
There is no rooftop and no skyline.
No cameras at the end of the aisle recording every angle for immigration and grandmothers, and mothers watching from Montana.
There is only heat and the soft, careful press of Scottie’s lips against mine.
He kisses me like he’s afraid to break me—gentle, tentative at first, all restraint and good intentions—but the effect is anything but gentle. The impact lands low in my belly, tingles of butterfly wings, building into a shockwave that radiates outward, stealing the air from my lungs.
His hands settle at my waist, large and warm even through the layers of satin and boning, fingers splayed wide like he’s anchoring me there. Or anchoring himself. I can’t tell which.
My fingers are stiff where they’re draped over his shoulders as I try to keep myself steady. Before I can think better of it, they drift upward, over the collar of his tux, until my fingers touch the heat of his skin, and the sharp lines of his jaw, until I realize I’m cradling his face closer to mine. I don’t know if I mean to hold him here, but I am.
My body decides for me. I don’t pull away.
A tiny sound slips out of me—more breath than voice, a soft, startled exhale that brushes his mouth.
He inhales as if it hits him straight in the chest.
