Six years ago, I gave Russian hockey god Yom Rustanov back his ring for a reason. A very good what kind of psycho did I almost marry?? reason. Since then, I’ve changed my name, built a life, and co-founded a dog rescue adoption cafe while helping my best friend raise her special-needs son. Trust me, I’m overworked, overwhelmed, and I have zero time for shenanigans
like waking up...
When you see your ruthless ex, you should…
A. Throw a drink in his face
B. Tell him you still hate him
C. Drunk marry him
D. All of the above
Crap. Crap. Crap. Why did I pick D?
Six years ago, I gave Russian hockey god Yom Rustanov back his ring for a reason. A very good what kind of psycho did I almost marry?? reason. Since then, I’ve changed my name, built a life, and co-founded a dog rescue adoption cafe while helping my best friend raise her special-needs son. Trust me, I’m overworked, overwhelmed, and I have zero time for shenanigans
like waking up in Vegas drunk-married to my ex? How did this happen? No idea. But now Yom wants me to stay on as his fake wife for ninety days—while he buys my estranged father’s hockey team. And hes offering me five million dollars for the possibly life-ruining inconvenience.
I should say no. But five million dollars could change everything for my godson after a devastating diagnosis.
All I have to do is hold out while my ex swaggers around in gray sweatpants, gives me daily contractually mandated toe-curling kisses, and goes out of his way to prove he’s not the monster I ran away from.
I can’t give in. But I know what that hungry stare leads to: Ruthless Ruin. Mine.
And ninety days is a long, unfairly hot, and sweaty time not to look down while he’s wearing those gray sweatpants…
