Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Viktor
I didn’t plan to put my arms around her. To comfort her. To hold her close and let her cry. But as she stood there sobbing, trying unsuccessfully to explain herself, I couldn’t take it. A woman’s tears are my kryptonite, much as I hate to admit it. And this particular woman is my wife.
No one has to remind me this is a business deal.
I’m quite aware of the contract we signed, and what the plan is for the next year.
What I didn’t anticipate—what we both had somehow forgotten—is that we’re still human beings with emotions, thoughts, and vulnerabilities.
Things that aren’t covered in those papers we signed.
Like how I’ll react when I see her crying like her heart is breaking.
Or how I’ll carry her to bed when she drinks too much, even if I can’t touch her.
Or how protective I feel when my friend is cold to her.
That’s something I’m going to fix. Kelly and I are going to talk about it as soon as I get her alone.
I love Kelly like a sister. I appreciate her friendship and how much she’s helped me since we met.
But I will not tolerate her upsetting my wife.
She didn’t actually do anything—this is about her attitude.
The fact that Holly knows she doesn’t like her. And it’s unacceptable.
I understand that she doesn’t approve of the decision we made.
That’s fair. West and Serena were somewhat taken aback as well, but they support us.
Kelly is being overprotective and unfair.
Holly didn’t do this by herself. She didn’t hold a gun to my head and demand money.
All of this was my idea. Taking it out on Holly isn’t right.
So, I’m holding her close, stroking her hair, and whispering to her in Russian that everything is going to be okay.
That I’m going to make sure of it. That she can trust me.
I say them in Russian because it’s easier but also because I’m not sure I can articulate the way I feel in English.
Especially about her. We don’t have to be in love for me to be protective—and seeing her this upset really bothers me.
“Do not cry,” I finally say in English, when her sobs have become soft sniffles and hiccoughs. I pull away enough to lift her chin with two fingers. “As your husband, I will protect you. From the press, from your father, from the sharks. For this, you must trust me.”
“You’ve already done so much—I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” Her eyes fill with tears again, and I shake my head firmly.
“You are not. I am grown man with many millions of dollars. I have power, money, and very good career. You cannot force me to do anything. This is my idea, remember?”
She nods, her eyes searching my face. “I just don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. Your friends hate me, your mother is going to—”
I cut her off. “My friends do not hate. Only worry. About both. And yes, my mother will be difficult. She is why you get so much money.” I try to smile, to add a little levity to an emotional moment.
“But my dad is going to be a pain in the ass too.”
“We discuss this, no?”
“I know. I just…” She dips her head and shudders a little. “I’ve never felt so alone.”
“You are not alone.” I force her to look at me again. “I am your husband. We make promise to take care of each other for one year. Yes?” I wait for her to respond.
She nods slowly.
“For one year, even if there is not love, there will be trust and friendship. I need you just as you need me. Is not upside down.”
She manages a watery smile.
“We will be okay. You will see. Trust me. Please.”
I don’t know why this is so important to me, but it is.
“Okay.” I can tell she’s still conflicted but at least I’ve let her know that she isn’t alone.
For now, that has to be enough.
I tossed and turned all night despite how much we drank, so I’m tired today. I’m not a big drinker during hockey season, so it’s out of character for me, but it definitely helped us relax. We talked and laughed a little, managed to get a bit more comfortable together.
That’s the part of this that’s going to be tricky—getting other people to believe we’re in love.
Holding hands is easy, and we’re going to do a lot of that in the next few days, but what about everything else?
People in love, especially newlyweds, should spend time gazing into each other’s eyes.
Touching. Exchanging looks filled with longing, promise, whatever the hell else people in love do.
And I don’t know how to do it with Holly.
I’m not a great actor, I don’t think, so this is going to take a lot of focus and concentration.
The problem is that we’re going into the final round of the playoffs before the championship, so I have to put all my focus and concentration on that.
The timing couldn’t have been worse, but my mother picked out a bride for me and that’s not happening. Not again.
It wasn’t just manipulative; it wound up being embarrassing.
My fiancée literally just didn’t show up and then had her brother deliver the news she wasn’t coming.
Turns out, she met someone else and married him six weeks later.
Someone who wouldn’t ask her to move to the US to support his hockey career.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s the first and last time I allow my family to manipulate me.
They’re so desperate for me to marry a “nice Russian girl,” they don’t even care about how I feel.
If we’re compatible. If there are genuine feelings involved.
No, all they care about is that I have a wife who’s going to be pushing for me to move back to Russia after my hockey career is over.
The thing is—that’s always been the plan.
I don’t know why they think anything would change that.
I struggle living and working in the US.
The language is hard, the lifestyle is different, and the customs are sometimes difficult to navigate.
I love going home in the off-season, where everything is familiar and I’m so much more relaxed.
I love hockey more, though. I can’t imagine doing anything else and I don’t plan to retire for a long time. As far as my personal life is concerned, the trick is going to be finding a woman who’s willing to live in America while I’m playing but then move to Russian when I retire.
Maybe that’s not realistic.
But now I’ve bought myself time. At least a year, where my parents will get off my back and…
well, that’s the other problem. What happens in a year?
I’ll be right back to square one. I’ve never mentioned that to Holly, but in the back of my mind, I wonder if I can convince her to stay with me for an extra year.
For another million. I haven’t brought it up yet, though.
She seems to be struggling enough as it is.
I’ve been fine with the situation so far, even though it’s barely been two days.
Maybe because I’m settling into my role as both husband and protector somewhat easily.
Maybe I’m some kind of misogynist, but I don’t think so.
That’s not what this is. She’s vulnerable and I’m in a position to help.
And I was dead serious when I told her my mother would make her earn every dime of the money I gave her.
I try to doze, but sleep doesn’t come and I stare at the plane’s small video screen that’s in front of me without really seeing it.
“You can’t sleep either?” Holly’s voice is soft.
I shake my head. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” She pauses. “Viktor?”
“Yes?”
“Do you really think we can pull this off?”
I hesitate because I think I know what she means but I’m not positive. “Please explain,” I say quietly.
She turns to me, eyes shrouded with obvious worry. “Do you think we can make people believe that we’re in love? Not just in love but that we’re so crazy in love that we ran off and eloped in the middle of the playoffs?”
How the hell do I answer that?
Because I have no idea if we can or not.
“I do not know,” I admit carefully. “But we cannot change what we have done.”
“I know.”
I reach for her hand, and her fingers thread with mine.
We’ve held hands most of today, and it’s starting to feel natural.
The next thing we have to practice is kissing.
Not the passionate, sexual kind, but the sweet, loving kind.
Kisses to her forehead when we’re in the family lounge after a game.
Affectionate kisses on the lips after a win. The kinds of things newlyweds do.
Somehow, we have to figure all that out while dealing with her father, my mother, and a group of well-meaning but intrusive friends. I glance over at Kelly, and she’s lost in the book in her lap. I really don’t want to be at odds with her, but she just needs to lighten up.
“I got an email from the realtor,” Holly says, pulling me away from my thoughts. “She says the inspection is happening now, and we should have his report in a couple of days. Assuming everything is okay, we’re good to close next week.”
“This is good news, no?”
“It is. I’m just thinking about the move.”
“Nothing to move except clothes and few items. We will buy everything new.”
“We will?” Her eyes round.
Just then, the plane hits a pocket of turbulence and drops. People gasp and scream around us, but Holly just squeezes my hand. Hard. With much more strength than I would have given her credit for.
“Is okay,” I say gently, covering her hand with my other one. “Everything is okay.”
She blinks a few times and then squeezes her eyes closed. “I don’t like…to fly,” she whispers, her face a little pale.
“I’m right here.” I tug her closer to me. We’re in first class so the seats are large and it’s hard to maneuver with our seat belts on, but she finally rests her head on my shoulder. “Just hold on to me,” I say in what I hope is a soothing voice.
She nods, continuing to keep a death grip on my hand.
The captain makes an announcement about a storm, the flight crew buckles themselves into their seats, and for the next ten minutes or so, we just sit there, bouncing through the sky. With Holly nestled into my shoulder like she’s right where she’s supposed to be.
And I don’t know what the fuck that means.