Fake Dating the Secret Billionaire Hockey Star

Chapter 8

Word Count: 654 | Released on: 17/08/2026

Beckett to my friends was part of the contract, but the

ckett was on the couch, watching game footage

rbud out and loo

ts to see me too," I added, hoping the menti

Send me the address." He put the earbud back

ceptance wa

restaurant in Lincoln Park called La Scarola. Kristin

re glowing. Love is treating

. "So where is he? The mystery

ined. The truth was, Beckett had texted that the team had a

rgy, playing with a smal

me with questions about Beckett. I repeat

voice laced with concern. Her own husband was an

away from our table and came to a stop right

ooked like trouble. He was laughing loudly with his friend

r. "Excuse me, si

the toy car further away. "Watch where you're going,

face flushed with anger. "Sir, I need you

widened. His eyes raked over me, making my skin crawl. "Apologize? Sure. H

atory. I instinct

ssica's distant cousin. I'd met him once at a family pa

?" I b

that banker your sister-in-law set you up with? Now you're eating at a dump like this?

walking toward me, rea

ir. Kristina tried to step between us, bu

watching, but no

om her!" Kri

my wrist. I squeezed my eye

a sickening crack and a s

t like a vise. My eyes traveled up the arm to Beckett's face. He was standing in front

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.”