“And I gave you my credit card information, which we both know will cover the cost of all of them if something were to happen. Which it won’t because the rings will all be there when you come back in.” I shut the door the last few inches while he was still in the way. I gritted my teeth. I should have taken Ida Jane to the store. No, I should have just bought her a ring and been done with all this.

  Except, as I rounded back to face her, saw the confusion and misery in her expression; I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. I settled next to her at the table.

  “I very much disagree. This is my wedding. Yours, too. And we’re going to be together for months, possibly longer.” Hurt flashed through me and I dropped my gaze, not wanting her to see it. Tomorrow mattered to me. I wanted it to matter to her, too, not just be something she must endure while helping me out.

  I really hated that she was doing something so monumental out of pity. My pride reared up, and I had to tamp down on the urge to call the situation off. Lance had explained that marrying Ida Jane was my best chance to stay in the U.S. My teammates needed me; Coach was counting on me to seal this deal. So, I would, even though I ached inside.

  “I know it’s not what you dreamed of, but I take my vows seriously, and I’ll be faithful to them—to you. So let me get you something beautiful that you’ll be proud to show off.”

  She poured herself another glass of champagne, then, noting that the bottle was less than half full, raised it toward me. “Whatever my husband wants.”

  I grimaced at her mockery.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, setting down the drink. “That was rude. Bitchy. I’m just…overwhelmed.” Her bottom lip quivered. “And clearly handling this whole situation terribly.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Maxim. I’ll do better.”

  I pulled out the last of my tricks, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake. “What if you call your mother? Talk to her? That should help, right?”

  Her eyes rounded and I realized she worried over telling them about us—this. “I’ll be here with you. I want to talk to your father.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. I know you’re from a small town, a traditional family. I want your parents to accept me, and that starts with me showing them I value their beliefs.”

  She shook her head, eyes never leaving mine.

  “We can video call your mother and she can help us choose your band.”

  Ida Jane giggled. “Oh, that would be a trip. My mama adores jewelry. The finer it is, the more she loves it.”

  Exactly what I was counting on.

  “Go ahead.” I gestured toward her phone.

  “I’ll just call. I don’t want them to worry about me.” She gestured toward her face.

  I nodded, but I wasn’t surprised that the moment Ida Jane told her mother hello and that she was getting married tomorrow that her mother sent the video call request. Ida Jane whimpered, but I pressed the button to accept and then settled into the chair next to hers.

  “Ida Jane Barl—my goodness, baby girl, what happened to your face?” her mother shrieked.

  “What is it, Loreen?” her father called.

  “Your daughter! She’s—”

  “Someone hit you,” her father said. “I’ll be there to pick you up in a few hours. You’re coming home.”

  “No one hit me, and seeing how I’m not in Houston, that’s gonna be tough.”

  Chapter 13

  Ida Jane

  My accent grew stronger, as it always did around my parents, and when I worried over a situation, as I did now. Telling them about the attack and my plan to marry Maxim was a double whammy.

  “I need my Henry,” Mama said. “Where’d you put the ammunition?”

  “Hush a moment, Loreen. Where the hell are you, baby?” Daddy asked, his voice soft, reassuring. Tears sprang to my eyes. “You’re safe?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I’m in a suite at a hotel—”

  “I can see that.”

  “In Nashville because like I told Mama, I’m…I’m gonna get married tomorrow.”

  Maxim leaned in closer so that his face was in the frame. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. My name’s Maxim Dolov. I apologize for not reaching out before, but as you can see, her ex-boyfriend has been terrorizing Ida Jane, and I removed her from the situation before it could escalate. I refuse to allow him to hurt her further.”

  “Dillon did that to you, baby?” Daddy asked. “He’s the reason your face looks like that?”

  “I ran into a door frame trying to get away from him,” I said.

  My four older siblings were boys, and Daddy was used to busted lips and black eyes. When we were little, it was typical for my brothers to dole out punishments to the other ones for perceived as well as actual slights. But never once in my entire life had anyone laid a hand on me.

  I sniffled as I explained what had happened. Maxim scooted his chair back and pulled me into his lap, tucking my bruised cheek against his chest. I stiffened as my parents’ eyes widened but I relaxed against him, lulled by his warmth and piney, citrusy scent. Maxim felt right, and I was protected, loved in his arms.

  Mama and Daddy exchanged a look.

  “When I met her, she was dishing out on him pretty well,” Maxim added. “Your girl has a mean right hook.”

  Daddy nodded. “Amos taught her. But what’s this about you getting married?”

  “Not only has he attacked her outside her work, but he’s also sent many more threats that imply him killing her.”

  Mama gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Jacob,” she whimpered. Daddy wrapped his arm around Mama’s shoulder, his face stoic.

  “After I saw those messages, Ida Jane and I talked it out. We decided our best course of action was marriage so that I could offer her not only the security of my home and wealth, but also my name and fame.”

  “I see.” Daddy turned quiet, clearly overwhelmed with this information. “No, actually, I don’t. How can marrying Ida Jane keep her safe? If Dillon wants to get to her—”

  “He has to go through the security watching Ida Jane and me,” Maxim said. Much as I’d disliked being followed, I understood why when my daddy’s face visibly relaxed at the mention of security—or was it Maxim?

  He ran his fingers through my hair, soothing me. I was glad he’d taken the lead and explained the situation to my parents. I snuggled closer, my eyelids drooping. The stress of the week sucked a lot of energy from me, and the day had been long.

  “I thought you could help me, Mrs. Barlow,” Maxim said. “Ida Jane’s refused an engagement ring, seeing as how we’re going to be getting married right away.”

  I stiffened as I realized his ploy. Millie would have told him about my mother’s jewelry obsession.

  “I want her to have a beautiful band, something that tells her how much she means to me. Ida Jane claimed this was ‘fine.’” Maxim held up the ring I’d picked. “I had a sister, and I know what ‘fine’ means. So, I wanted to see if you think she’d rather have this one.” He picked up his preferred ring with the double row of diamonds and the thicker band. My breath caught as the diamonds sparkled. I coveted it. But I didn’t want Maxim spending that kind of money on something I’d have to take off.

  Mama gawked, leaning closer to the screen. “Is that from this year’s Cartier collection?” She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes. “It is. Sweet baby Jesus! Tell me that’s insured.”

  I glanced over at Maxim.

  “It will be as soon as she agrees to wear it,” he said.

  “Ida Jane Barlow, this is your wedding ring. It’s a sign of commitment,” Mama said, using her strictest voice, but I heard the thread of envy in it. She’d want to try on that ring as soon as possible. “You need to defer to your husband on this. Make him proud of what he provides for you.”

  Nope. Mama was never trying it on. Or touching it. She’d been lured to the dark side with jewelry, and I wasn’t going to forgive her.

  Maxim rumbled an agreement. Daddy looked on, knowing Mama was a lost cause now that she knew Maxim had expensive taste in jewelry. Oh, Maxim was clever. Too clever. He’d just won himself an ally, playing my mama perfectly, and I knew who I had to thank for that. Millie better not call me for a few days, otherwise she was getting the tongue-lashing of a lifetime.

  Mama’s mouth hung open and her greedy eyes never left my ring. Yeah, I was already thinking of it as mine. Her lips kept forming the word Cartier, as if that was the most important part of this call. She spent hours online browsing the various high-end jewelers and then tinkering in her crafts room, attempting bad replicas.

  “I still don’t see why she needs your name or fame. Are you in the Russian mob?” Daddy asked after a slight pause.

  “No, sir. I play hockey for the Houston Wildcatters.”

  Daddy cleared his throat, a frown beginning to form between his bushy brown eyebrows. “Oh, well, then. That’s…something.”

  “Daddy likes football,” I said.

  “So does most of Texas,” Maxim replied.

  Daddy sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “It’s a hell of a physical sport—”

  “Which I also play well,” Maxim said. Somehow, that didn’t seem like a boast. I knew him to be very athletic. His reflexes were impressively fast, and he was well-muscled.

  “This is the man you were telling me about, Ida Jane? I mean, I heard what you said, but marriage is an important step, missy.” Mama had recovered her wits, but that was because Maxim had removed the ring from view. He set it back on the fine black velvet mat. I clenched my hands to keep from reaching out to touch it. “I thought you were considering moving in together. Marriage. Wow.”

  “We needed the wedding to further deter Dillon, but honestly, I didn’t want to wait,” Maxim said. He sounded so sincere, and I wanted to believe him because that meant falling for Maxim wasn’t such a bad thing.

  “I know it’s fast, and I know Ida Jane’s worried about your reaction, but please, let me say that I adore your daughter and will do everything within my power to ensure her continued welfare and happiness.”

  I looked over at the screen of my phone as Mama and Daddy exchanged another long look. Mama’s lips pursed and Daddy wore a frown. “I can’t rightly say I like the way you went about this. I’m expected to be asked permission and to give my little girl away.” Daddy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

  “And the Daddy-daughter dance,” Mama said, unhelpfully.

  “And that,” Daddy said, dropping his head into his hands. “My baby’s getting married.”

  Mama wrapped him in her arms and rocked him. “You better treat her real good, Maxim, and we better be invited out—”

  “We’ll be home Sunday evening,” Maxim began.

  “And we’ll be there Monday after Ida Jane gets off work. I need to talk to my daughter. In person,” Mama said.

  “Of course.” Maxim nodded. “I didn’t have concerned parents. My mother died when I was young and my father, well, he wasn’t one to me or my sister. So, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know Ida Jane has family who cares about her well-being.”

  “And happiness,” Daddy added, dropping his hands to glare at the screen.

  “And happiness,” Maxim added. “That’s the next most important thing.”

  “Well,” Mama offered a smile, “I guess this means I can leave my Henry home.”

  Daddy grunted. “Bring it. If Dillon manages to skulk around—”

  “Shh, Jacob. You can’t say that, even if I totally agree with the sentiments.”

  “No man gets to hurt my Ida Jane.” He threw Maxim a dark glare.

  Mama shook her finger at me. “I’m expecting grandbabies, just the same.”

  “Bye, Mama,” I said, fumbling with my phone to turn off the video.

  “You always told me you wanted five—”

  I sighed with relief when her voice disconnected.

  Maxim looked down at me, eyebrow raised. “Five children?”

  “I was young when I made that claim. Foolish.”

  An expression crossed his face quickly, but I thought it might have been relief. “Of course. Now, give me your father’s number so I can talk to him alone.”

  Maxim

  I woke with my head buried in Ida Jane’s hair. I shifted, needing to stretch my back and hips, which pressed my pelvis—and morning wood—against my bride’s lush ass. Much to my surprise, Ida Jane requested I join her in the bedroom last night. I didn’t ask if she was sure because I wasn’t a gentleman.

  While it hadn’t been the wild night of sex I’d hoped for, it had been…right. Kind of what I expected marriage to be.

  “Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

  I smiled into her hair, loving that she was wrapped in my arms, and that she was mere hours from becoming my bride.

  Intense pride and other emotions—ones that I refused to examine too closely—welled inside me. This was the smart move; one that would give me and my team what we needed. Focus on the goal, Maxim. Staying in the country. Winning more games. Improving my stats. Making more money from endorsements. Never being hungry again.

  That had been my list of goals since I was drafted; Ida Jane was a delicious perk that helped me achieve them. I was being smart, marrying her.

  I buried my nose deeper in her hair and inhaled.

  “Morning, krasivaya.”

  She shivered, as she always did when I used that term of endearment, before pressing closer. We lay like that, spooned together, both of us content.

  “What time do we need to be at the courthouse?” she asked.

  “Nine.”

  “All right. Would you like to take a shower before I get ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mind if I order some breakfast?” she asked.

  “Please. I want an egg white omelet.”

  She rolled over, and I noticed her face wasn’t as swollen today. In fact, I could see both her beautiful eyes, but my attention was currently on the flirty grin tugging on those pretty pink lips.

  “You athletes. I’m assuming no butter and lots of veggies and cheese crammed into that omelet?”

  I leaned forward and kissed her forehead at the edge of her bruising. “You got that right. Along with a big pot of black tea.”

  She gasped. “You don’t drink coffee?”

  “Only from the machine the guys got me and not much at that. Makes me jittery, and I’m already a little nervous.” I swallowed, wondering if I’d said too much.

  Her small, pale hand cupped my cheek. “You got it, Maxim. Black tea and an omelet.”

  Her pajama shirt had ridden up when she turned over, and I took advantage, rubbing my thumbs against the soft skin of her ribs. The goosebumps told me she liked that.

  She studied my face for a long moment. “You know something? I’m not nervous—not about the wedding. I know you’re going to treat me right.”

  “Of course.” I laid my entire palm against her ribs, letting my fingertips skim the underside of her breasts.

  “And I’m going to treat you right, too,” she vowed.

  I gave her a serious look. “Never doubted you.”

  She smiled, then scrambled out of the bed. I enjoyed seeing Ida Jane in so few clothes, her tits bouncing under her silky top.

  She used the bathroom and popped back out, face shiny and hair tucked back in a headband that the personal shopper had added to the order. I guess she knew what she was doing because Ida Jane had exclaimed over it last night.

  “You go on in. I’ll place that order.”

  After we’d eaten while watching the sun rise over Nashville, Ida Jane excused herself into the bathroom. I’d put on a new suit I’d ordered through the personal shopper and my trusty black dress shoes I’d owned for years. Maybe I should have gotten new ones, but I was superstitious enough to believe these had brought me luck. I’d been wearing them when I walked into the team offices in Detroit and signed my first contract. I’d worn them when I was traded to the Wildcatters. And now, I’d wear them when I married Ida Jane.

  I finished my cup of tea and prowled the suite, restless, not liking her out of my sight. Not because I was a controlling bastard—well, maybe I was a little—but because I needed Ida Jane to be wed to me.

  I stopped at the windows and stared out, aware that my first thought hadn’t been so that I could continue to play hockey. No, I wanted Ida Jane because I wanted her.

  She seemed to think this was still some type of transaction, that I could have offered this deal to another woman.

  Now that I knew her, had slept with her, eaten meals, laughed with her, I couldn’t imagine any other woman in my life. I’d told her father so last night, which was why he’d given us grudging approval, something that clearly relieved Ida Jane as she spoke to him this morning at the table.

  “She’s not as committed for our marriage to be forever as I am, sir,” I’d told Jacob Barlow as I paced around the bedroom, my agitation growing as bedtime neared. “But I plan to show her how much she means to me. I plan to make sure she’s the middle of my world—”

  “After hockey,” Jacob had broken in. He’d sighed, almost with defeat. “I have boys who play football. My youngest will get drafted. I know what’s what, son.”

  “You don’t,” I snapped. “Without Ida Jane, I wouldn’t be able to play hockey for the NHL, and I won’t forget that. Ever.”

  I’d meant those words, and they were even more potent this morning after I’d listed my goals. Without Ida Jane, I’d lose the life I’d built in Houston. She was the linchpin holding it all together.

  I heard the bedroom door click open, and I spun around. My heart slammed against my chest and my eyes watered.

  Ida Jane wore a white gown, just as I’d dreamed. Not sure of her style, though, I’d looked through her Pinterest boards while we were on the flight. I’d forwarded a few of my favorites to the personal shopper who’d chosen three white gowns and three were in shades of blue because Ida Jane had been pinning the icy blue color most recently.