Page 11 of Secret Husband
“It has happened.”
She pointed again. “Shut your Russian mouth! What’s happened here is going to really hurt Thad. And you want to make it worse by insisting we date? We’re not a couple, never have been, so what point does this serve?”
“It serves the point of making sure that we do not make a mistake.”
“Mistake’s already been made,” she said glumly.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps this unusual situation needed to happen to force us to think about what we really want.” And this boyfriend of hers was not it. I knew that much.
Her eyes flashed. “No.”
“No?”
“I won’t be playing this game with you. We’ll get it annulled.”
“You will need my cooperation. I’m asking that you take a little time to indulge me. Three dates, that’s all.”
“Three? One meeting is all we need, with our lawyers, where we will discuss how to fix this, and now you’re saying three dates?” She pointed at the door. “Out. Now.”
That made me smile. It felt good to be on the sharp end of her ire. Invigorating, like the first time we met.
I stood and headed for the exit. “My number is the same, Lauren. All you need to do is unblock it.”
Chapter Four
Lauren
* * *
I pushed through the door of the Empty Net and looked around. No sign of my boyfriend, which was fine because I liked the idea of a quick dose of Dutch courage before he arrived. To be honest, I would have preferred some place quieter, like the wine bar a few doors down, but Thad loved the Net, a favorite with Chicago Rebels players and fans alike.
The Rebels win in the Finals a week ago had definitely goosed the bar’s business, another reason I wouldn’t have minded a little respite from every bitchin’ fan boy and his uncle. I wasn’t digging the hockey life right now, and I cursed Alexei Nazarov for harshing my vibe.
I had a call into a lawyer friend who would figure out if Alexei was telling the truth, but in my heart of hearts, I knew he was. Why would he lie about it? If I knew anything about the man, it was that he wouldn’t want to be tied down at this point in his life unless alcohol and idiocy had mated and had a baby, the offspring being our ill-considered marriage.
I do.
I’m screwed.
But Lucas, my lawyer friend, had said that this was relatively easy to fix. Thank God we lived in the US of A, where there was a solution to every batshit, booze-drenched decision. Per Lucas, you just sign an application for annulment, and it’s usually done and dusted in a month.
Thad wouldn’t even have to know.
Setting aside the notion that keeping this from my boyfriend was somewhat problematic, I considered how to ensure Alexei’s silence because I sure as hell would not be giving into his absurd demands. Three dates? Not a chance.
Money wouldn’t work.
Sweet talk would make me vomit.
Threats of my own? I had no leverage.
I gestured to the bartender. “White wine, please. Sauv blanc if you have it.”
Someone nudged my elbow and I turned to find Summer.
“How about I get that?”
“No worries. The boss always buys.”
