Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2)

by Isabella Cassazza

  “I bought it furnished.”

  “I’m missing something, right?” Two lines appear on her forehead.

  “Care to explain, Emilia?” I wink back at her.

  “He has a brothel couch.” She smiles at me.

  “What’s a brothel couch?” Danny asks as he sets a plate in front of Emilia.

  “And why do you have one?” Tyler adds, setting down a plate in front of Lily.

  “It’s a normal couch. Just a red one.” I shrug.

  “Brothel red,” Emilia adds.

  “Is that even a color?” Tyler’s forehead wrinkles.

  “Of course it is. I get it; it’s the red you see a lot in strip clubs,” Danny chimes in.

  “So, you go to strip clubs a lot?” Lily’s eyebrows draw so close they’re nearly one big one.

  Danny crumbles under her stare. “Not anymore.” They communicate something by just looking at each other. Those two have some kind of dynamic of their own going on. I look at Tyler, but he leans over to Lily and whispers something in her ear, and she relaxes. Sometimes I don’t get them and their interaction with Danny.

  “Let’s eat, everyone, but we’ll have to visit you one day to see that couch.” Tyler lifts an eyebrow.

  I should have invited him weeks ago, and I know it. “You’re welcome any time. It’s super comfortable. I always fall asleep on it.”

  “And Emilia carries you to your bed?” Tyler hands out his famous soufflé.

  “Um. No. I wake up and crawl to bed myself.” I’m not even making that up. But Tyler’s questions remind me that Emilia and I should go over our story and how we plan to live for the next year and a half before we tell people things. We can’t risk contradicting each other.

  It’s weird sitting here, putting on a show for people I consider my friends now. Should we tell them the truth? Would they understand? Is one allowed to lie to friends?

  I hate deception, but we have a legit cause; protecting the babies has to be our first priority. And we have one and a half years ahead of us. We might tell them the truth at some point. Who knows?

  “Are you still planning to elope in Vegas?” Lily’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Yes. Like we said before, it’s the easiest way. We don’t have time for a big party and want to get married before the babies are born. And my documents are all in Italian and would have to be translated if we were to marry in Boston,” Emilia answers before I can think of what to say.

  “Do you have a date set?” Danny asks before he puts a big piece of the soufflé in his mouth.

  Emilia looks at me, but I’m busy chewing on a spoonful myself. I nod briefly. They should at least know when we plan to get married. They won’t tell a soul if we ask them not to.

  “We’re flying to Vegas this weekend.” Her smile looks forced.

  I get it; a fake marriage is not how I saw myself tying the knot either, but we’ve already announced it, and there’s no going back anymore. Real marriage or not, there’s no guarantee for lifelong bliss getting married anyway. Life can throw you crazy curveballs. Anytime. Anywhere. The only thing you can do is try to adapt and make the best of every situation.

  “Wow. So, I guess the critical phase is over.” Tyler holds his fork in the air halfway to his mouth and looks at Emilia.

  “Yes. We should be safe.” This time, her smile is a real one as she places a hand over her belly.

  “Will you get married in one of those Elvis chapels?” Danny asks.

  “Um… it’s going to be a wedding chapel, but no Elvis.” Emilia shudders.

  Nothing wrong with the king of rock and roll, but I don’t need an impersonator to marry us either.

  “When will you tell the team?” Tyler asks with his mouth still full, which earns him a stern look from Lily, and he blushes. I suppress the urge to laugh, seeing my captain under his girlfriend’s thumb.

  Emilia sighs. “On Monday. We’ll use the Monday morning meeting to tell everyone.”

  “I can’t wait to see some reactions. Should be fun.” Tyler chuckles.

  “Let’s hope it’ll be fun.” Emilia looks down on her empty plate.

  “Do you want more?” Danny asks her.

  She shakes her head and blushes. “I’m good for now. Maybe later?” Their eyes meet, and I have a sudden urge to strangle the guy. What is wrong with me? He has been nothing but friendly and knows we’re about to get married.

  Jason knew that about Jackie and you as well, a little voice whispers inside my ear, but I choose to ignore it.

  “Sure. You just tell me, and I’ll get you more.” He gives her his boyish smile, and she smiles back. My fists clench, and I fight the urge to punch the smile off his face. This couple-playing thing must be getting to my head.

  “Lily, I wanted to ask you something.” Emilia distracts me from my murderous thoughts.

  “Sure. Anything.” She leans closer to Tyler.

  “You know that Tyler and Matt will shoot another campaign for RAVELLIS in a few weeks, right?”

  She nods and then chuckles. “Will the clothes be tight again?”

  Danny doubles over in laughter. “What she really means is, will their junk be on display again?”

  Emilia’s hand flies in front of her mouth, and her cheeks redden. “Uh… no. Though, it worked well marketing-wise.”

  I snort. That’s the understatement of the century. Tyler and I were featured in every talk show possible and could have given a million interviews to every TV station from here to Alaska if we had wanted to. No wonder the slim-fit collection sold out first. But I’m glad we’re spared another photo shoot in blood-cutting clothes. It’s not an experience I ever want to repeat again.

  Emilia looks at me before she continues. “You’re doing really well with your riding, and you and Tyler are Boston’s most beloved couple. Lily, do you want to shoot a campaign with Tyler and Matt for our women’s line? And, Danny, would you be willing to shoot a training video with them? You know, give an insight into their daily training? We would publish it on the Ice Tigers’ social media channels.”

  Lily and Danny look at each other and then turn to Tyler.

  “You should do it. It’s a great opportunity for both of you.” Tyler leans back in his chair.

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say other than… yes, I’d love to shoot a video with Tyler and Lily,” Danny answers first.

  “Perfect.” Emilia claps her hands. “What about you?” She turns to Lily.

  “I… I don’t know. Ty’s right. It would be fantastic marketing-wise, but… I’m not sure that’s me.”

  “Lily’s a bit camera shy.” Tyler chuckles. “But I could make you forget the cameras. You’d look gorgeous in that workout gear.” He caresses her cheek and kisses her. She smiles when their eyes meet after the kiss and blushes.

  “I love you,” she whispers, holding his gaze.

  One day, I want to have a woman at my side who says those three words in the same way Lily says them to Tyler. Without thinking, I reach for Emilia’s hand.

  Her head flies to me, but I turn my gaze back to the couple. “You should think about it, Lily. It would be fun shooting with you.”

  Lily looks from Tyler to Danny, who gives her one of his signature smiles, and back to Tyler. “All right. It would be an honor to shoot with you and Tyler.”

  “You won’t regret it. And I promise we’ll have clothes that fit this time.” Emilia claps her hands.

  “I’m still not sure whether you did that on purpose.” Tyler chuckles.

  “I swear it was a mistake from Gianluca and his assistant.” Emilia blushes.

  Another reason to despise the guy.

  “I believe you. So, who is ready for some dessert? I made a strawberry tart.” Tyler pushes his chair back and reaches for our plates.

  “Let me help.” I follow his example and clean the table.

  “Just put them in the sink. We should do this more often.” He motions to where the others are sitting at the table.
I nod. This is… relaxing.

  “He can cook and bake?” Emilia asks loud enough for us to hear.

  “And shoot hat tricks,” I add, walking back to the table, and everyone doubles over with laughter.

  “I just want to add, I look damn good in skintight clothes.” Tyler strikes a pose.

  “You’re so full of yourself.” Lily throws a napkin at him.

  “And still you love me.” He walks over, bends down, and kisses her.

  I look at Emilia. Love. A strange thing. Perhaps I’ve never felt it before. Perhaps I’ll never experience it with a woman. But I’ll love our babies. Of that, I’m sure. And I’ll do anything to protect them. Anything.

  Chapter 14

  Emilia

  “We could still cancel our trip.” I watch Matt as he flips through a car magazine.

  “Not on my account.” He doesn’t look up but keeps flipping through the pages.

  I look away from his wide cheekbones and cut jawline, needing to concentrate. I’m at his apartment tonight for a trial run. Or a trial night. The plan was to talk about our fake married life and how we would handle living together. Tomorrow, we’re getting married in Vegas, but he refuses to talk to me about the big event.

  “Can we please talk?” So far, our practice evening has been going well. We ate dinner in silence and retired to the brothel couch—just like an old married couple with communication issues. The perfect start to our deadline marriage.

  “What do you want to talk about?” He’s still flipping through his magazine.

  “I think we should talk about how we’re going to act when we’re with the team. Like… I don’t think we should share a hotel room during road trips. I don’t want anyone to think you’ll receive better treatment because we’re married.”

  “Okay.” He doesn’t look at me but focuses on his magazine.

  “I want to uphold a professional image. Still, the team needs to believe we’re in love. So we should act like a couple. You know a caress here and there. Maybe a kiss on the cheek?”

  He nods. “Is there more you want to talk about?”

  Don’t even get me started. But the direct approach is best sometimes. “Are you going to sleep with other women while we’re married?”

  He stops his flipping motion. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because we’re not sleeping with each other, and you’re a hot-blooded thirty-two-year-old man.”

  “And?” He studies an ad for a sports car.

  “Don’t you need to come from time to time?” The words are out before I think about them.

  There may be a hint of a blush on his cheeks, but it could also be the rest of the sunlight pouring in from the window reflecting on them. “There are other ways. I’m not sixteen anymore.”

  I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “Yes, but… you didn’t answer my question. Are you or are you not going to sleep with other women?”

  He pauses the flipping motion again. “Are you going to sleep with other men?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “Then I won’t sleep with other women.” He flips to the next page.

  “But you’re a man.” I sound like a willful child, but I don’t care. This is a meaningful conversation, and what is Mr. Aloof doing? He’s flipping through a freaking car magazine. A magazine I would love to rip from his hands right now and shred into a thousand pieces. And then demand he clean them up.

  “And?” He doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.

  How can he be so controlled all the time? “Never mind. So, we add that to our agreement. No sex with other people while we are married, right?”

  He nods but then rubs his neck. “There’s one more condition.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, bracing myself for whatever is to come. “I’m listening.”

  “You need to learn how to drive.”

  Is he serious? How can that be a condition for us to get married? I want to rip out my hair. Instead, I take a calming breath. “Um, you know. You saw how nervous I became on the ice. It may be worse in a car. It’s okay when someone else does the driving, but… I took one driving lesson, and it was a disaster. I can try again, but it may not work. Why do I need to learn how to drive?”

  “You need to face your fears.” And with that, he flips the pages again.

  How many pages does this stupid magazine have?

  I shake my head and clench my fists. “You need to face your fears.” I tried that already, smartass. It didn’t work. But if that’s his condition, I’ll try again. If he wants to see me fail, so be it. I want so badly to yell at him right now. Breathe, Emilia.

  When I was a little girl, I used to have temper tantrums, smashing toys against the walls and screaming at the top of my lungs. My various nannies would say I had behavioral problems; when in truth, I was crying for attention and love. Sitting next to Matt, I feel like my six-year-old self again. I’ve worked so hard to keep my temper under control, but he’s bringing out the worst in me.

  How am I going to survive a year and a half with this man driving me insane with frustration? Does he know the effect he has on me?

  “I’m going to bed.” I flee the room, not waiting for his response.

  In the guestroom, I crawl underneath the blanket and roll into a fetal position. When I was six years old, I imagined my wedding to be a fairy-tale event with a princess-style dress, a dashing prince, and a big party with cake, sweets, music, and laughter. The wedding tomorrow in Vegas couldn’t be further from my dreams.

  But I made my own bed. It’s not only me anymore. I’m responsible for the babies and for the Ice Tigers and their reputation. And at the end of the day, I am a Ravelli, and the family’s reputation comes above anything else. We owe that to our employees. Even my six-year-old self would know that.

  “We have three hours until we have to be at the chapel,” I say as we enter our two-bedroom suite.

  Matt nods but doesn’t say anything. It shouldn’t surprise me, but today he set another record in noncommunication. Must be a world record. On the plane, he hid behind another magazine. This time something about golf. Why do people even play that overpriced sport?

  We’re not a couple and never will be one, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to live with someone who makes it a priority not to talk to me. Not even for a year and a half. My grandfather’s behavior should have prepared me well for being ignored by the men in my life. But I’m not.

  I clench my hands. How can he pretend that I’m not sitting right next to him? Why can’t we at least be friends? He talks to Lily, doesn’t he? So why not make conversation with me?

  I don’t want to cause a scene, so I turn around and open what I hope is the door to one of the bedrooms. Instead, I end up in one of the bathrooms. Great. Just great. I turn on my foot and run straight into a wall. A human wall.

  My nose connects with Matt’s chest, and I sway back. Solid muscle and my small nose aren’t going well together.

  “Are you okay?” He grabs my arms and steadies me.

  I nod, unwilling to look at him.

  “Look at me, Emilia.”

  Now he wants to talk? I’d rather sink into a hole in the ground, but he’s blocking the exit. His eyes are narrow, and he has three crinkles on his forehead.

  I sigh. “I’m fine. I’d like to lie down before we head to the chapel.”

  He blinks but still doesn’t step aside.

  “You’re blocking my way.”

  He holds my gaze for another second and then steps back.

  I brush past him, connecting with his arm. My skin tingles, and the hairs on my arms stand up. Am I the only one feeling the attraction between us? How can he stay so calm?

  “Do you want a ring?”

  I stop in my tracks. “What?” I turn back to him.

  “A wedding ring. Do you want one?”

  I didn’t even think about getting a ring. This is a fake wedding. “I… I don’t know.”

  “I think you sh
ould have one. We want this wedding to look like a real one. And people will want to see your ring.”

  I nod. He has a point there. Why didn’t I think to buy a ring? I booked the premium wedding package at the least cheesy-looking chapel, because the premium one included a photographer to have proof of the happy event, but wedding rings weren’t on my mind. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

  “We can buy one on our way to the chapel. There’s a jeweler in the hotel. How long do you think it’ll take you to pick one?”

  Wow. He put some thought into this, didn’t he? “Um… I don’t know. Maybe half an hour.” I do the math. With thirty minutes to pick the ring, I still should able to lie down for half an hour, take a shower, and get dressed. “But if I get a ring. You should get one too.”

  His eyes widen. Then he nods once.

  “See you later.” I head to the next door and this time find a bedroom. Thank God. I plop down on the bed and release my breath. A wedding ring. It should mean something. But—as everything else—it just serves the purpose of keeping up appearances and paints the right picture to the outside world.

  I take my shoes off and sink into the mattress. I’d hoped to catch some sleep, but my mind is reeling. Last night, I tossed and turned, unsure whether I—or better we—were doing the right thing.

  Marriage is a sacred act, at least for me, even though we’re not having a church wedding at this point and most likely never will have one. But I planned to marry only once in this lifetime. Marrying Matt goes against everything I ever believed in. I’m not marrying him for love, and our marriage has an expiration date from the very beginning. That alone should be reason enough to back out. Last night, I made the additional mistake of looking up marriage fraud on the internet. I have a working visa, and staying in the United States isn’t a problem. But technically, we’re committing marriage fraud. It’s unlikely anyone will ever find out about our arrangement. Matt and I agreed to tell no one the truth. We’ll be living together, and I’m having his babies. But… I don’t want to commit a crime.

  Yet, marrying him seems the only option to protect our unborn children. And they have to be our priority.