Page 4 of Your Sharpest Edge
“You were late this morning?” he asked.
I shrugged, then gave him a wry smile. “Had to try out what the ladies in the OC had to offer,” I said unapologetically.
He laughed, the sound booming through the empty arena. “Yeah, well, maybe next time I’ll come try some with you.” Dimitri laughed again, but I held out my hand, stopping him.
“You’re engaged, man,” I said, staring right at him.
He shook his head.
I was an asshole, and I loved to fuck, but I had morals. It was the whole reason I never wanted to be tied down. The moment someone relied on me, it would be game over. I had seen how that turned out with my parents, and I refused to be like them.
“On paper, sure?—”
“Wait.” I stopped. “The fuck?”
I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. There was no way he was actually implying that he was going to cheat on his soon-to-be wife by going out with me... Was there?
Dimitri turned toward me, grabbed my wrist, and held on tight. “You heard me. I can do whatever I want with or without my fiancée. Is that clear?”
I threw up my hands. “Whatever.”
I wasn’t about to play whose cock is bigger with this fucking asshole. He hadn’t changed since we were kids—always a pompous dick—and this was no different.
“Got it,” I said, shaking my head in disgust as I stepped onto the ice.
Fuck this guy. If he wanted to cheat on his fiancée, so be it. He was right. It wasn’t my place to be concerned about what he did in his personal life. For us, we’d just have to learn to work together on the ice, and that was all.
3
stassi
A Month Later
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Dimitri turned toward me when the judge finally pronounced us man and wife and grabbed the back of my neck, forcing my lips to his. He smelled like liquor.
“Kiss me back,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“Sorry.” I hesitated. “I was caught off guard.”
This was the first time I had ever seen a civil wedding in America, and it was nothing like what I had imagined. Most of what I’d seen on TV were grand affairs, but this was far from that. I’d always pictured getting married to someone who proposed in some epic, memorable way. Instead, here I was with a guy I vaguely remembered from childhood—a cocky, hockey player who had always been the center of attention. Back then, he’d seemed larger than life, but now, as he leaned in for my first kiss, it felt anything but romantic. His tongue pushed into my mouth, rough and uninvited, and I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do.
When the judge coughed, my new husband, Dimitri Sokolov, pulled away. “Good.”
I knew his reputation before I married him; it was the same as when we were kids. He was notorious for being hot headed and difficult to deal with, traits that hadn’t softened with time. His previous agent had even quit, unable to handle Dimitri’s unmanageable temper.
My mind flashed back to the whirlwind of events that led to this moment. We barely knew each other, but circumstances had pushed us together into an arranged marriage.
The thought of managing such a volatile personality had kept me awake at night. Now, here I was, married to him. The reality of our situation was a painful blur, a far cry from the tender, magical first kiss I’d always dreamed of. Instead, my first kiss felt like a violation. It was rough and forced, with none of the warmth I had imagined.
He stepped back, his intense gaze locked on me. “Are you going to stand there all day?”
I shook my head, tears threatening to spill. “N-no.”
I lowered my head and followed him down the aisle. We had initially planned to tie the knot a few months after I moved here, but our families insisted that sooner was better. My mother was convinced this was the best path for me, assuring me that he’d support my skating dreams, and all it required was a “small” sacrifice on my part. Being young and impressionable, I believed my parents knew what was best, so I agreed to rush our marriage. With a quick courthouse ceremony, we were officially hitched, and our parents sanctioned our cohabitation.
“We’re going home to consummate the marriage now.”
