The Penalty Box: A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance

by Stone, Odette

  “Should I get started with more research?”

  “I’d like you to marry Mica.”

  What the actual fuck?

  I felt myself freeze as I held her gaze. She’s joking. She stared back at me with intensity. She’s not joking! My throat swallowed convulsively. Was this part of my job requirement? Would she hold it against me when I said no? Because there was no way in hell I would marry Mica.

  “No,” I blurted, unable to look at him. I realized that my reaction might be hurtful, so I tried to soften my rejection, but the only words that came out of me were, “That’s a hard no.”

  “Mica will pay you one hundred thousand dollars to remain married to him until he gets his contract renewed. You will live rent-free at his place. Think of this as a high-paying acting job.”

  No. No. No! I stared back at Krista, willing her to tell me this was a joke.

  She leaned forward, making her voice soft and hypnotic. “Mica needs this. He’s in serious trouble, and his career will not survive this unless we help him. Charlie, he needs our help.”

  I hated when she pulled on my heartstrings. She was damn good at it too.

  “It’s marriage, Krista.” Marriage to a guy I had secretly lusted over for the past two years. I could barely handle the short time we spent together.

  “Not really. Think of this as just a piece of paper. Like a contract.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and then back at me. “You know how much hockey players travel. He will barely be home. And you saw how big his place is. You two could just live quietly as roommates. That you two have known each other for two years is the perfect cover.”

  I had always been hyperaware of this man. And he just wasn’t into me. That was a fact. There was no way he’d be able to convince the world he’d fallen for me. This plan was humiliating. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have Mica marry someone he’s already dated? I think that would be more convincing.”

  “The fact that you two have been in contact for two years is convincing. People will buy this.”

  I finally forced myself to glance up at him. His eyes assessed me, inspecting me. His scrutiny made me feel naked, vulnerable. The guy had the ability to charge the room with electricity by simply being present. I had spent the last two years avoiding him because my reaction to his magnetic pull was so hard to hide.

  Marrying and moving in with him was the exact opposite of what I needed to do. They both thought I hated him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, but the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off him made me the exact candidate they were trying to avoid.

  I couldn’t admit it to him. Not now, not ever. But it was something I needed to share with Krista. As much as it pained me, she needed to know the real reason why this wasn’t an option.

  I cleared my throat. “Krista, can I talk to you alone?”

  She looked at Mica. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

  Without moving, he continued to stare at me. Finally, he nodded, pushed off the window and disappeared out of her office.

  Fuck, that guy is intense.

  Krista crisscrossed her fingers and propped her chin up with her hands. “Talk to me, Charlie.”

  Time for full disclosure. “I think it’s a terrible idea for me to get involved in this situation.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Because you want to fuck him.”

  The air sucked out of my lungs, like she had sucker punched me. “Krista!”

  “For the past two years, you’ve stolen glances at him when you think no one is looking. Whenever I mention his name, your voice gets weird. And you’re as prickly as a cactus towards him. Only him.”

  She knew my secret. I stared at her, aghast. “How long have you known?”

  She shrugged. “Since the first day you met him.”

  “You aren’t mad?”

  “I told you never to get involved with my clients. You can’t help how you feel, but you did everything in your power not to let your feelings show.”

  I tried to explain myself. “I don’t even like him. He’s wild, and he likes to party, and he serial-dates puck bunnies. He’s so reckless. And he plays hockey, which I hate. I don’t even know why I am attracted to him. It makes no sense!”

  “Mica has this charm that women can’t resist. Plus, he’s hot as sin.”

  I laid my hand on my chest. “I don’t think I can live with him. If he ever figured out how I felt, it’d make him so uncomfortable.”

  Krista laughed. “Are you joking?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t. This was no joke.

  She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Mica is comfortable with women wanting to rip his clothes off. That’s all he knows. Pretty much every woman he comes into contact with wants him. Your lust wouldn’t even faze him.”

  Well, that kind of took the wind out of my sails. “I don’t want to act on those feelings, but I don’t know how long I can hide it.”

  She spread her hands. “That is the brilliant part of this plan. You don’t need to hide your lust if you’re fake-married to him, right?”

  Which brought me to my second fear. “But he’s not into me. No one will buy this.”

  A smile played on her lips. “Don’t worry about that.”

  It was stupid to think about something so inconsequential, but I couldn’t handle the idea of walking around for a year while getting pitying looks from people. “He won’t convince anyone.”

  “That’s his issue. You’re getting a one-hundred-thousand-dollar payday, free rent, and you’ll be helping me out.”

  It was so much money. I could pay off Yazimoto and get him off my back. I would be stupid not to take this opportunity. “Can I think about it?”

  She nodded. “Take the rest of the day off. But I’m hoping you’ll do this, Charlie. I know it’s a lot to ask, but Mica could really use your help. You are his last chance.”

  * * *

  The bar was mostly empty thanks to the heavy rain that sheeted down in the wild gusting wind. There were a few diehards huddled in their booths, nursing their drinks, probably reluctant to face the weather, but they weren’t my tables. I stood at one of the back high-top tables, filling up the salt and pepper shakers, my eye on the clock. I was getting cut in 15 minutes, and I could not wait to get out of here.

  The thump of the door drew my gaze. I saw Mica before he saw me. I took in his dark jeans and a red hooded jacket that was slicked with rain. A navy baseball cap shadowed his eyes, accenting the perfect angles of his face. I was a sucker for men who wore baseball caps, and he was no exception.

  I pretended to ignore him as he stalked across the room towards me. He stopped in front of me but didn’t speak. He watched, and I ignored, carefully pouring salt into another shaker. His scrutiny unnerved me, needled me, forcing me to speak so he didn’t notice the slight tremor in my hands.

  “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk.”

  I had spent most of my afternoon convincing myself that for a hundred grand, I could marry this man. Five seconds in his vicinity and I had the urge to run in the opposite direction of all that raw, masculine energy. He radiated hotness in big, manly, alpha waves that threatened to knock me over. I couldn’t marry this man. He was way more than I could handle.

  I screwed on the lid of the last salt shaker, dusting my hands off. “So talk.”

  “Not here.”

  Ignoring him, I lifted the tray of shakers and walked to the back. I took my sweet-ass time, organizing the shelf and wiping down the staff table in the back before returning to the front. My traitorous eyes noticed that he was leaning against the wall, staring up at the televisions above the bar.

  “Charlie, you’re cut,” the night manager told me.

  I returned to the back to cash out before pulling on my jacket. I walked out to the front. I knew we needed to talk. This afternoon, my boss had fake-proposed on his behalf while he stood by
, not speaking. The situation couldn’t get any weirder. I needed the money, and he needed a wife. On paper, it seemed like a simple solution. person, it seemed impossible.

  I stopped in front of him.

  He didn’t even take his eyes off the television. “You ready?”

  “You want to talk? Let’s talk.”

  He glanced down at me, probably wondering why I sounded like such a bitch. “Not here.”

  “There’s an all-night diner nearby,” I said, unable to look him in the eyes. Droplets of water slowly ran in rivulets down the front of his coat.

  “Let’s go to your place.” He pushed off the wall. “Come on.”

  I trailed after him, uncomfortable with him coming into my space. He held the door open for me, and the wind stole my breath.

  “I’ll follow you,” he said before moving towards his ridiculously expensive Porsche.

  I ran across the parking lot, gasping as the cold rain hit my face. I got into my ancient car and looked over my shoulder. I saw the headlights of his vehicle as he waited for me to drive.

  I turned the key and groaned when the damn thing didn’t turn over. Not a sputter, not even a whimper. Just the dashboard lights turned on.

  “Come on,” I complained, turning the key repeatedly, hoping for a different outcome each time.

  A knock sounded on my window. My damn window didn’t even roll down, forcing me to open the door a crack. Water streamed off the end of his baseball cap and the darkness of the night shadowed his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think my battery is dead.”

  “I’ll give you a lift.”

  “I can’t leave my car here,” I protested.

  He responded by opening my door wider. I sighed and grabbed my bag. He watched me lock my vehicle before leading me to his low-riding sports car.

  I felt awkward as I got in beside him. The interior of the car was pure luxury, with comfortable, butter-soft leather seats.

  I didn’t want to notice how much this car suited him, or how masculine he looked as he easily shifted through the gears. The car literally growled in response. I had a new appreciation for why guys bought cars like this, because watching him drive was like witnessing pure testosterone. How many women’s panties accidentally fell off after watching Mica drive his car? I looked out the window, not wanting to admit that the thought annoyed me. The fact that it annoyed me, annoyed me even more.

  I gave him terse instructions to my place, and then he pulled up in front of the decrepit house-turned-apartment-building that I called home. We ran through the rain, and he towered over me as I fitted the key into the front door. I led him up two flights of creaking, threadbare, carpeted stairs before unlocking all three deadbolts on my apartment door.

  I led him up another half flight of stairs into my cramped attic loft.

  “Watch your head,” I warned him under the slanted roof. I tossed my wet jacket on a hook but didn’t offer to take his coat. He stood, dripping wet, in the middle of the room, looking around with interest. The place was small, to begin with, but with him standing in the middle of the room, it felt claustrophobic.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Two years.” Two long years. Ever since I had inherited my debt.

  “Is the furniture yours?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where’s the rest of your belongings?”

  “That’s it.”

  His curious eyes looked around the impersonal space. “I’ve taken women away for weekends who packed more stuff than you own.”

  I imagined sex-hazed weekends in five-star locations. No wonder his castoffs all came to Krista, begging her to help them keep his interest. “I’m a minimalist.”

  “You need more stuff,” he decided.

  “Said no one ever.”

  I forced myself to face him. We needed to get this over with. He needed to say what he needed to say.

  “Speak.”

  “Krista said you’re considering… helping me.”

  The guy couldn’t even bring himself to say the word marrying.

  I crossed my arms. “I have strong objections to the plan.”

  His eyes found mine. “You and me both.”

  “You go first.”

  He pinned me with a look. “I want you to tell me about last night.”

  The only person who knew about my troubles was Jasper. I sighed. “My reckless and irresponsible brother is a dumb ass. He borrowed eighty thousand dollars from Yazimoto.”

  “Who’s Yazimoto?”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. “He belongs to the Japanese gang Sasori.”

  “Where is your brother?”

  “In jail. They came after me when he failed to pay them back.”

  “Is that why you’ve been working two jobs?”

  “I’ve already paid off the debt and then some, but they keep showing up, asking for more.”

  “Gang debt never ends.”

  “I’m starting to figure that out.”

  His eyes hardened. “If you marry me, Yazimoto will never come near you again.”

  Oh my gosh, I wanted that. I wanted more than anything to put this big man between myself and my gang problems. It would be completely unfair, but the temptation was real. I shook my head. “The point of getting married is to clean up your image. Not deal with my issues.”

  His response was to pin me with another intense look, reminding me of the guy he had become behind the bar.

  “Mica, what would you do?”

  “Handle it.”

  “If you go to the cops, they’ll kill my brother!”

  “I have no intention of going to the cops.”

  I chewed my bottom lip, debating that option. “How? How will you handle it? You don’t know what these people are like.”

  His look darkened further. “I have friends who know how to deal with someone like him.”

  My voice went up a notch. “Like the mysterious Russian friend that got you into this mess in the first place? This is exactly the kind of situation you need to avoid.”

  “Trust me on this.”

  Did it make me a bad person to want to accept his offer? Call it instinct, but I knew that if anyone could help me, it was him. But what would it cost him? And why would he want to help me? We barely knew each other.

  “Why would you help me?”

  “I hate bullies.”

  I took a moment to study him. He looked like someone who hated bullies. He looked tough and formidable. Still, I couldn’t believe I was considering this. “Why are you so averse to marriage?”

  He blinked but didn’t answer.

  “Full disclosure, Petrov. If we’re getting into this mess together, I also need to know what I’m getting into.”

  “My parents hate each other.”

  “That’s the reason you don’t want to get married?”

  His nostrils flared. “Growing up and living in that house with them every day provided more than enough reason to never get married.”

  “When did they get divorced?”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “They didn’t.”

  Wow. I’d never seen him sound so bitter and dark. What would it be like to marry someone so opposed to marriage? This went far beyond him not finding me attractive. This aversion was real. “You’d resent me if we got married.”

  He took in a deep breath. “Maybe. But I’d try not to.”

  At least he was capable of honesty. It was my turn to speak my truth. “Long after this arrangement ends, I need to continue to work with your teammates. I couldn’t handle it if you… cheated on me.”

  His blue eyes held mine. “That’s fair, but those terms apply to you too.”

  “If you humiliate me by dating while we are married, I reserve the right to leave.”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. “If you cheat on me, I reserve the right to sleep with you.”

  What the hell?

  Thoughts of sleeping with him made my
heart jackhammer in my chest. “That’s just stupid,” I stammered. “Why would you even say that?”

  His jaw tightened as he looked me over. He felt strongly about this. “If you’re wearing my ring, you’re mine. Not to be touched by anyone.”

  You’re mine. Those two possessive words shot a dirty thrill up my spine. Was that why I was attracted to him? Could I sense his inner barbarian? Why did I even like that? “That archaic response isn’t even about me. It’s about other men.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s how I feel.”

  What did it say about me that I wanted to be his? I tried to cover up. “It’s stupid.”

  “Then don’t sleep with anyone.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with anyone. Including you,” I said emphatically, more for my own benefit.

  That declaration didn’t even faze him. Which brought me to my next concern. “How are you going to convince the world you fell for me?”

  “That’s a non-issue.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m a guy, remember?”

  His response didn’t come close to answering my question.

  “So, if we go through with this, how does this work?”

  He looked grim. “We get hitched.”

  I knew at that moment we were making a huge mistake, but I wanted this. I knew he didn’t, but the idea of living in such close proximity to him for a year was more than alluring. “Okay, I’ll tell Krista in the morning.”

  He didn’t even respond. He simply turned around and left my apartment.

  * * *

  My hands shook as I texted Jasper.

  Me: I’m getting married!!!

  Jasper: Shut the front door.

  Me: I AM GETTING FAKE-MARRIED TO MICA THE SAVAGE!

  Jasper: Holy crap.

  Me: Right?

  Jasper: I know you deny your mad crush on him, but is this REALLY a good idea?

  No, it was a terrible idea. But wild horses couldn’t stop me from going through with this.

  Me: He’s paying me a lot of money.

  Jasper: How much?

  Me: Enough to become debt-free.

  Jasper: We can work with that. How are you feeling?