Chapter 6 #2
I tense immediately. My mom? God knows what kind of poison is going to gush from her lying mouth. “Why would you even get that alert?”
Juliet gives me an odd look. “I set up a Google tracker on your name. Professional courtesy. Plus, for the time being, our fates are entwined.”
“She stole my playoff bonus, Juliet. You don’t come back from that.”
Speak of the devil, Jett shows up right then, smug as ever in his perfectly tailored suit. “Don’t you two look nice.”
“Jett!” Juliet greets him more warmly than she greeted Silas. Her excitement irritates me for reasons I don’t want to examine. “Long time no see.”
“Hey there, Juliet. You’re a sight for sore eyes. I didn’t think Hunter would ever make a move,” Jett says.
Juliet jumps in smoothly. “Oh, he’s been secretly obsessed with me for years. Haven’t you, honey?”
“In your dreams,” I mutter.
She purrs back, “No, sweetheart. In yours.”
Jett laughs. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” She fake-gags at the nickname, which makes him laugh harder.
“I love you two together,” he announces before strolling off, looking way too pleased with himself.
I’m left seething, though I’m not entirely sure why.
Juliet spots the Seattle Havoc’s crisis communications expert, Ivy, across the room and rushes off to whisper something urgent in her ear.
I’ve had tall, blond Ivy on my ass for the last few months, every time I get into a nasty fight on the ice.
She’s always saying something about trying to keep me off her radar.
Now, she looks at me, her icy blue gaze piercing me.
She doesn’t look happy to see me. Guess punching that fan in the face was the last straw for her.
I watch Juliet as she greets Ivy, noting the differences between them.
Ivy is tall and willowy, dressed to kill in a short red dress that clings to her body.
Juliet is almost her opposite. Short, stunning, wearing a knee-length dress with a low-cut neckline.
She’s got lush curves and they’re on display tonight.
Tits pushed high, hips wrapped in emerald fabric, ruby red lips pursed.
I can admit to myself that Juliet is as stunning as she’s ever been as she laughs at something Ivy just said. She’s just here because she’s stuck playing my fiancée, but she looks like she belongs at this fancy gala.
At the bar, Jett approaches. “So. Fiancée, huh?”
“Yup.” I scrub my hand over my mouth. “We were… uh… keeping things private until recently.”
“Nice. I remember her from college.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You were a couple of years above us.”
“Yeah, but I definitely remember her being a hockey girlfriend. She was always on the arm of that dick. What’s his name?”
I grunt. “Patrick.”
Jett gives me a slow smile. “You liked Juliet back then. What are the chances that you two would reconnect?”
I want to murder him, but I just give him a tight smile.
“I doubt she even remembers me from U of W.”
“Yeah, right.” He snorts. “It’s good to see you two together. She softens your whole I’m going to murder you in your sleep vibe.”
I grunt. “Maybe that’s the vibe I want to give off.”
He arches a brow, shakes his head, then goes quiet for a moment. “Mom’s been leaving voicemails again.”
I go cold. “I don’t want to hear anything Mom says. She’s dead to me.”
“I’m not planning to. Just thought you should know.”
Fixing him with a stare, I make it clear. “Talking to her is like opening a vein.”
I don’t care how sorry Mom says she is. I’m not bleeding for her again.
Jett nods. “Fine. Just watch yourself.”
When Juliet returns, I catch her fidgeting with her emerald engagement ring. Without thinking, I cover her hand with mine. Camera bait, but also something else I don’t want to name.
Flashes go off. In the back of the room, I see Jimbo Greene and Coach Cross smiling at my little display of supposed affection.
If fans had any idea what my relationship with Juliet was really like…
the constant bickering, the stubbornness for no reason…
they would stop showing up to my games with Chainsaws.
It would be one way to shake off the dreaded Chainsaw act.
“Smile for the cameras,” Ivy calls, her grin smug. “You two get close now. Let’s see a kiss.”
“I hate you,” she whispers under her breath, smiling for the photographers.
I lean in like I might kiss her and murmur, “Sure you do.”
Then I lay a kiss right next to her mouth. She gasps for half a second before falling into step with me. Her fingers tense against my shoulder. She’s playing along, but I can feel the uncertainty in her grip. We’re off-script now.
I dip her back, my mouth against her cheek. We’re pressed tightly together and I can’t help but notice how neatly her small, sleek body fits against mine. She digs her fingers into my shoulder and smiles, showing her perfect white teeth.
This is our first genuine attempt at faking our relationship, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Not that I’d admit that to anyone, especially not her.
Juliet moves her hand closer to my neck, attempting to draw her ring into the picture. The emerald glints in the light.
When she first saw the ring yesterday, her breath hitched. That’s how I knew I picked well. She isn’t very flowery and dresses extremely modestly most of the time, but I just had a feeling she would like this antique ring.
Smug male satisfaction fills my chest thinking about her reaction to seeing the dazzling emerald.
I can’t help but laugh. She smiles up at me with pure malice radiating from her every pore. “What’s so funny?”
I stick out my tongue, staring down at my beautiful fake fiancée. That’s right. I can admit that her dark curls, brown eyes, and olive skin make her a knockout.
Not that it should matter to me, I guess.
“Oh, that’s the headline grabber!” Ivy crows. “Wow, you two have chemistry coming out of your asses, don’t you?”
I cock a brow at Juliet. But she just rolls her lovely brown eyes at me.
“Cool it,” she orders. “Let me go. The moment is over.”
As I release her, she stumbles slightly on an ornate rug near the auction tables.
I’m no goalie, but I have the reflexes of a pro athlete.
I’m there instantly, crouching down, hugging her knees to my stomach and steadying her.
My fingers brush against the bare skin at her ankle, and she goes perfectly still.
Interesting. Her response is… no response.
“You’re good,” I say, helping set her right.
Flashbulbs pop around us, capturing the moment. Ah yeah, our constant surveyors. The reason we’re here. Juliet and I are hard-launching our engagement.
“It better not end up as a meme,” she mutters.
“Too late, honey.“
“You’re the worst.”
I arch a brow playfully. She tries to walk away, probably to escape to the bathroom or find Ivy again. But I follow her, not ready to let the moment go. Not tonight.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Away from you.”
“That’s not very convincing fiancée behavior.”
“Good thing I’m not actually your fiancée.”
Ouch. The reminder stings more than it should. For the rest of the night, I play it cool. I hang back, let Juliet talk to Jessa, watch Ivy dominate a sizeable chunk of her time. When it’s time to go, I help her into her coat and walk her out.
On the way home, she barely says a word. Neither do I. But when she rubs her thumb across her ring like it means something, I wonder if maybe tonight worked a little too well.
Back at the condo, Juliet collapses on the couch with a groan. “I’m dead. Literally dead. And my feet are screaming.”
I toss my keys in the bowl by the door. “Take off those torture devices you call shoes.”
She straightens, prim now that we’re alone. “No thanks. I’d rather die.”
“You plan to be uncomfortable in your own home?”
“This isn’t my home,” she retorts. “It’s a rental agreement until we break up.”
That one lands harder than I expected. I head for the fridge, keeping my voice cool to mask the sting. “Suit yourself. I’m making this my castle.”
I tell myself the public launch of our fake romance went well. She remained unflinching under pressure, tightly wound but professional. But I can’t help feeling a flicker of respect when her eyes drift over me and her cheeks heat despite her best efforts.
The world is watching The Chainsaw with his so-called fiancée now. The pressure’s on to make this believable.
But lying here in the dark, listening to her move around in her room, I’m wondering if I’ve already bitten off more than I can chew.