Fake Dating the Secret Billionaire Hockey Star

Chapter 4

Word Count: 891 | Released on: 17/08/2026

n house. The driver dropped me at the address on the keychain. It was an

om a "dump." Good. It would keep

dark green, the paint peeling in places. I took a deep

also completely impersonal. The furniture was sparse and functional: a sofa, a bed, a table. The

oks like, I thought. I started cleaning, wantin

clothes, my art supplies, and a por

ll when my phone rang. The caller ID said "Beckett

ipped a bea

s still cool, distant, fi

st got here

way. Did you get the credit card? The lawyer was supposed to m

It should be

I could picture him standing in a hallway, his face tense. He must have noticed someone watching him, be

sappointment washing over me. What

and got back to work. It might be simple,

ed him my new address, making

sica's voice came through the speaker. "Fiona, let us in." I refused and hung up. A few minutes later, however, footsteps sounde

asn't Beckett. It was Jessica's mother, Susan Price,

een me. Susan started pounding on the door. "Fiona!

he door a crack. "Mrs. Price, J

nt, her face a mask of contempt. "My God, Fiona! This is the pigsty you c

st worried about you. Come home wit

laugh escaped me. "How is l

had came from our family! And now you turn your back o

I had depended on them, yes, but that didn't

iend," I said, my voice quiet but firm. It was the first t

n's scorn intensified. "I'm telling you, you'll regret this! When he

ave been over by now. He was probably calling to check whether the credit card had

face twisted into a cruel smile. "Well, speak of the devil. Let's see what kind

ce came through, cool

d into the phone, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'm advising you to stay a

Chapter End

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Fake Dating the Secret Billionaire Hockey Star

Fallen Nimbus Romance

“My sister-in-law didn't want me to marry for love. She wanted me to marry rich-so she could turn my husband into her personal ATM. So I did the one thing guaranteed to ruin all her plans. I got myself a broke hockey player. At least, that's what everyone was supposed to believe. Beckett Hayes needed a girlfriend badly. The Chicago hockey star had a reputation problem, angry sponsors, and too many headlines painting him as arrogant, reckless, and impossible to settle down. I needed a man convincing enough to stop my family from arranging my future for me. Our solution was simple: fake date. His rules were even simpler. Live in his shabby apartment. Help sell the struggling-player act. Smile for the cameras. No real feelings. Easy. Until my family showed up to mock the "loser" I'd chosen-and Beckett stepped between us like they had insulted something that belonged to him. Until he put a no-limit black card in my hand and told me to stop sacrificing my dream of becoming an artist just because I was afraid to spend money. Until our fake dinners started feeling domestic, his hand started finding mine under the table, and I began forgetting that every protective look and possessive touch was supposed to be part of the contract. Then Beckett's grandfather arrived at our tiny apartment wearing cashmere, flanked by bodyguards, carrying a priceless Hayes family heirloom for me. Apparently, pretending to be broke was the easy part. Pretending I wasn't falling for my fake boyfriend was becoming impossible. Especially when his grandfather took our only bedroom and left Beckett and me with one pullout sofa, one night, and absolutely nowhere left to hide.”