Page 12 of Elite Player
Weird.
Incapable.
My chin quivers, and I pull my knees up, hiding my face as I apologize to Nico over and over. “It’s my fault you got dragged into this,” I rasp. “You can leave. You don’t have to stay here.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere,” he says eventually. “Besides, we have to figure out what you want to tell them.”
I wipe at my face and turn to look over everything he’s brought me, the food and giant teddy bear. The clothes and lotions and socks. The snacks and gift baskets. Then I take in his handsome face. If it were anyone else, I might find humor in the circumstances, being caught in a lie like this with a man like him.
“When did I pop the question? Because I did do it, all right? This wasn’t some kind of situation where you asked me or we sort of just agreed to it. I made a big deal out of it when I asked. It was romantic, with your favorite music playing in the background, and you?—”
“What?”
Nico stops. “What?”
“What are you talking about, popping the question?”
“We have to get our story straight.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my hands up in the air. “I don’t understand.”
“If we’re going to pretend to be engaged, we need to be on the same page about the details.”
“No, that’s not… I can’t… You are…What?”
He nods a few times, repositioning himself so he’s even closer to me, bowing his head as if imparting sacred secrets into my ear. “I don’t know how much you know about me or hockey or the Iron, but my position with the team is a bit precarious right now.”
“Precarious?”
“Yeah. I was basically told I need to show the front office I’m not a manwhore or they’re trading me.”
I don’t know what I’m more shocked by, the fact that he knows the word precarious or that he could be traded for having a lot of sex. When I inform him of this, he laughs good-naturedly. “I might look dumb, but I’m not. Or, at least, not the dumbest on the team.”
“And you think by pretending to be engaged to me, you’ll keep your spot on the roster?”
“Yeah, this is a win-win situation for both of us.”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “It’s ridiculous. All of this. We can’t pretend.”
“Why not?”
I scoff. “Why not? Nico, you’re a famous hockey player, and I’m…nobody.”
“You’re my fiancée,” he says, with so much sincerity, I almost believe him.
“I am not, and we can’t do this. I can’t keep lying.”
“Why not? It’s only for a few months.” When I shake my head in disbelief, he dips his chin in acquiescence. “Okay, maybe the season.”
“That’s not any better!”
“Shh, babe,” he coos, hand on my head, the tips of his fingers threading through my hair, his thumb gliding under the bandage covering the cut he gave me. “Don’t want you busting a stitch.”
My jaw hangs open at his blasé attitude. Like this is a game.It’s not. It’s my life. His career! If he thinks this is going to work, he’s truly lost his mind.
“This isn’t funny, Nico.”
He squints one eye, tilting his head to the side like a puppy. “A little bit.”
