"If you want a shot at the Olympics, and if you want that NHL draft, you will announce that you’ve been quietly dating," the Dean ordered, sliding the fake contract across the desk. I looked at Reid Carter, the arrogant hockey captain who had sabotaged my skates, the man I had despised for ten years. Now, I had to pretend to be deeply in love with him for ninety days. I grabbed the pen, my fingers trembling, and signed my name. "Perfect," the PR manager smiled. "Tonight is the bonfire. Act like you actually like her. Iris, try not to look like you're plotting his murder."
We walked into the dark parking lot, the scent of burning wood filling the air. "Ready to sell our souls?" Reid murmured, his massive hand suddenly wrapping around mine. An unexpected jolt of electricity shot up my arm. His skin was rough, calloused from years of gripping a hockey stick, but his heat melted right through my cold fingers. We stepped into the firelight, surrounded by a hundred whispering athletes and flashing cameras. I leaned my head against his broad shoulder, playing the perfect, obsessed girlfriend. "She's worth the trouble," he told the crowd, his voice dark and unreadable.
But when the cameras were gone, the lines began to blur. In the empty locker room, he pinned me against the cold metal lockers, his chest heaving. "You're squeezing too hard," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You're the one shaking, Ice Queen," he growled back, his face inches from mine. We were supposed to hate each other. We were supposed to be a PR stunt to save our funding. But as his gaze dropped to my lips, the fiery tension between us felt dangerously real. Would the world find out we were a fraud, or would this fake contract destroy us both?
