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I sigh. "It doesn't matter if I like him or not. Jordan owns the team. He'll kill us both. And Roman will help." They're both overprotective to a fault. I've never dated because it's virtually impossible when your brothers are billionaires with unlimited resources at their fingertips.
The one—and only—time I told them I got asked out, they had his entire life story in five minutes flat and threatened to send me to a convent if I even thought about going out with him simply because he'd been arrested once for public intoxication. He got drunk on Spring Break when he was eighteen.
Hollie's face falls, but she doesn't disagree with my assessment.
Chapter Four
Gabbi
I wait until Hollie is in bed to text Atlas to apologize. Except he didn't put himself in my phone as Atlas. He listed himself as my future husband. He even added himself to my emergency contacts.
He's shameless, really.
I shake my head, a stupid smile on my face as I set it aside to crawl into my bed. I settle against the pillows, dragging my fuchsia Patina Vie duvet up over my lap. Once I'm snuggled in, I grab my phone again to type out a quick text.
Me: Did you seriously add yourself to my emergency contacts?
Not My Future Husband: Who me?
Me: Yes, you.
Not My Future Husband: IDK. I guess people can do anything when you DON'T HAVE A PASSWORD ON YOUR PHONE.
Me: Don't shouty caps me.
Not My Future Husband: Do you like my name?
Me: You mean this one?
I take a quick screenshot of the change I made to his entry and send it to him.
Me: Love it. Very accurate.
Two seconds later, my phone rings.
I hesitate long enough for him to send another text.
Not My Future Husband: Answer the phone, Temptation.
I swipe to answer. "Don't tell me what to do, Atlas."
"You changed my name in your contacts."
"Who, me? I guess anyone can do anything when they own the phone."
He growls at me. And wow. I didn't know men actually did that in real life. Or that it'd sound so menacing and hot at the same time. Coming from him, it's both. A shiver works its way through me.
Crap. He's working hockey hunk voodoo on me.
I shake my head hard, trying to dispel it so I can focus.
"We aren't getting married, Atlas. I don't even know you."
"You will," he says confidently. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Oh, really?
"What did you do to get sent down from the NHL?"
