Page 36 of Faking it with the Billionaire
I don’t worry about Bristol at home. The concern is when she’s outside, where I can’t protect her.
I reach for Emerson’s hand, and she forces a smile.
“You’ll do fine,” I say and offer a smile, trying to reassure her that she has nothing to worry about.
We can pull this off. We certainly did well with my teammates and friends visiting. Not that I expect her to get down on her knees and put on a show during the gala. Although, wouldn’t that be something if she did? It would certainly make the headlines.
I shift uncomfortably. That’s not the kind of press I need right now. Coach Malone has been on my ass for showing up late to practice. I’m always on time for game day, but I’ve been stretched a bit thin before Emerson waltzed into my life.
Another reason I’m doing this gala.
It’s punishment for me showing up late. Contractually, we’re required to do a certain number of appearances per season, but I got shafted with doing a few extra big events. It’s also a cause that I want to support, which is why I’m happy to be such a large donor for the gala.
I don’t blame Coach for chewing me out and forcing me to attend this charity function. He didn’t have a choice. Malone is a tough ass, but he’s fair. It’s the owner, Brent Fitzgerald, who has my balls in his grip, and he’d love to squeeze the fuck out of them to torture me.
You would think being a hot-shot hockey player would usurp the issues with Fitzgerald, but my contract is up at the end of the season. And he’s got balls of steel when it comes to negotiating. He always gets what he wants, and if he thinks he can hire someone younger and cheaper, I’ll be tossed aside.
It’s not like I need the money.
I’m a fucking billionaire.
At least that’s what everyone keeps saying, and they’re not wrong. But I love being on the ice, and playing professionally is a dream come true. And now that Jasper has finally made the team, I don’t want to leave the Ice Dragons.
I’d pay to stay on the team.
Fuck. I’ve lost my mind.
I’m madly in love with the sport. I feel at home, alive, when I’m on the ice. The tension before a game, the adrenaline while on the ice, the screams of the crowd when we make a shot, it’s freeing.
Like nothing else in the world exists.
Besides, New York is my home, and the team is my extended family.
So, I’m doing my best to impress Brent Fitzgerald tonight, who will be in attendance. And flaunting my gorgeous fake girlfriend in his face will hopefully make him realize I have the support he tells me I desperately need.
And he’s not wrong.
I do need a support system. Depending on my cousin isn’t fair to her. She has a family of her own. And my brother can’t help anymore now that he’s on the team.
“Are you okay?” Em’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as she squeezes my hand beside me in the vehicle. “Nervous?” she asks, trying to guess what’s running through my head.
She has no idea about Fitzgerald and how his brother and I are rivals on the ice. But James isn’t here, just Brent, the owner.
I shift to face her, forcing a smile. “Cool as a cucumber.”
She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“How the hell do you do that?” I ask with a laugh.
“Do what?”
“The eyebrow thing. You have to teach me.”
She releases her grip on my hand, smiling faintly, and she pushes an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair has been curled, and she has the top part secured in a fancy clip at the back of her head.
She looks absolutely stunning.
I can’t keep my eyes off her, and my gaze dips down to her cleavage. Because I’m a man, and her breasts are one of my favorite parts of her body. I try not to leer. I don’t want to bethatguy, the creepy perv who can’t control himself.
