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“I’m not asking you to. But I need you to trust me with her. Let me be the one who handles it. That’s my job now—as her husband. And I need everyone to respect that.” I pause for a second, swallowing hard. “You, out of all people, know damn well I never wanted a marriage. But I’m in it now. And I’m going to be a good husband, because she deserves that.”

I just hope I can keep that promise.

Three hours later I’m at the rink, wrapping up practice. The cold air and the ice helped clear my head, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe again.

“Hey, captain. Do you need a plus-one tomorrow?” Samantha, the GM’s assistant, pops up beside me, batting her lashes like she’s auditioning for some cheesy rom-com.

She puts a hand on my waist and tries to pull me closer, but I take a full step back, forcing her hands to fall to her sides.

“The position’s already filled, Samantha. And I need you to stop touching me.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “It really was a mistake. I was too drunk to realize who you were. I didn’t want to sleep with you.”

She gasps, visibly offended, and storms off in a whirl of cheap perfume.

But it’s the truth. One I’ve told her more than once.

Apparently, I slept with her one night two months ago. The team had won a huge game, and we celebrated like lunatics. I barely remember that night, I only know I woke up with a warm body next to mine and panicked when I realized it was her.

“Man, she’s pissed,” Aiden says with a smirk. “And who filled the position?” he asks, raising a brow.

“What position?” Chase asks, walking into the locker room and grabbing a towel. “And why was Samantha fuming like she got benched for the season?”

“Because lover boy over here turned her down again,” Aiden replies, practically cackling. “And he said he has a plus-one for the Gala.”

I strip off my gear, ignoring them both, and head toward the showers.

“Yes, I do actually,” I toss over my shoulder. “She’s my future wife.”

I grin as I close the shower door behind me, and their loud, synchronized screams follow me down the hall.

“What the fuck?!”

NINE

Sierra

Sitting in my seat in our private jet, I reassure myself for the hundredth time that everything is going to be okay.

In just three hours, I’m expected to be on Nick’s arm at his Annual Hockey Gala.

No, I’m not nervous, I’m petrified.

It’ll be our first public appearance as a couple, but we’re not revealing anything to the press. Not yet.

No interviews, no statements, no smiling announcement.

Just… pretending.

“Miss, please fasten your seatbelt and prepare for landing.”

The stewardess snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Okay. Thank you,” I reply softly, then sigh and bury my face in my hands.

You can do this, Sierra. He’s just a man. You work with men all the time.

Except you’ve never been fake-engaged to any of them. Or fantasized about their mouths.

A black SUV is waiting for me at the airport, and it takes me straight to Nick’s home.