The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (ink ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Then, I laugh. I laugh until I cry because it feels so fucking good.

“You look sexy rocking my number, sweetheart,” I tell Ri as I get ready to head to the arena.

She laughs, shakes her ass, and waves her phone in the air. “You’re never going to believe what happened!” Her black eyes are glittering and her smile is wide. She’s practically glowing with delight.

“What?”

“Stu was fired! Torsten, Hendrix fired him. The CEO, Josh, called me personally to apologize and sent me over an amazing letter of recommendation.” She whoops, throwing her arms out wide. “Can you believe it?”

I stand from zipping up my bag and walk to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and threading them at the base of her spine. “That’s incredible, Ri. That piece of shit deserves more than just being fired.”

“I know. I’m still trying to figure out how the hell Hendrix even learned about it. Maybe other women came forward? I should have come forward… I didn’t even think to press charges.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and I tug her closer, wrapping my arms around her shoulders in a hug.

“You had a lot going on, babe. Trying to survive the way you were isn’t easy. At least you know he’s out of a job. I can check around and see what legal action is being taken against him. If you want, you can file something now. We can go to the station together.” I glance down at her.

She’s chewing her lip raw. I grasp her chin until she releases her lip, her big eyes coming up to meet mine. She hesitates and I press a kiss to her forehead. Slowly, she nods. “You’ll really come with me?”

Her worry guts me and I pull her closer. “Of course I will, baby. I’m one hundred percent behind whatever you want to do. But I should tell you that Hendrix offered me an endorsement deal.”

She jerks back, stepping away from me. “They did?”

“I met with Josh and his team today.”

“Was Stu there?”

I growl at hearing his name on her lips. My hands clench into fists and my molars grind together, recalling his beady eyes and the fear that flared in them when he realized who the hell I am and my connection to Rielle.

Realization dawns in her expression and she gasps. “It was you. You got him fired.”

I reach for her again, some of the fury racing through me quieting once my skin connects with hers.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “You turned down an endorsement deal? For me? Now, when you’re about to retire and should be diversifying your portfolio?”

“Sweetheart, when are you going to realize I’d do anything for you? Turning down a deal is nothing when it comes to your safety. Your well-being. Of any woman’s well-being.”

Her hands find my shoulders and she presses up onto her tippy toes to brush her lips against mine. Immediately, I’m dragged under her spell. My hands settle on her hips as I deepen our connection. Will I ever get enough of this woman? God, I hope not.

When she pulls back, she looks at me in awe, like I did something worth a damn. Her reverence fills me with pride and a possessiveness; a desire to always protect her streaks through me.

“Thank you, Torsten.”

I brush my thumb along her cheekbone. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. Just know that you’re safe, he’s gone, and you have a letter of recommendation. I feel better that you’re here, with me, where I can keep an eye on things.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Keep an eye on things?”

I chuckle. “On you, Ri. Keep an eye on you. Now, I’ve gotta get to the arena. See you at the game?”

She rolls her eyes. “As if I’d miss it.”

I grin, press a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, and shoulder my bag.

When I arrive at the arena, I spend an extra minute in the car, watching other people walk toward the place that’s been home to me for nearly two decades. I’ve spent more hours in this place than I have in my own home.

It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that in a handful of weeks, I’ll no longer enter it as a Hawks player. I climb from my SUV and head inside. For the second round, we’re facing off against the New York Sharks. Despite their fierce competition, a few of the Sharks used to play for the Hawks, including Austin’s brother-in-law, Mike. It must make things a little awkward around the Merrick family dining table, but right now, I need to get my head on straight and prepare for the game.

I run through all of my usual pre-game traditions but add a new one. I take an extra moment to rattle the cuff links Rielle bought me in my palm before placing them on the top shelf of my locker.

When I glide onto the ice, I glance to the WAGs box until my eyes find Rielle’s. She’s staring straight at me, a goofy grin on her face. She blows me a kiss and I smile, winking at her. A few of the women sitting near her practically swoon and Claire rolls her eyes.

But I know Ri didn’t do it for show. She’s rooting for me, for the team, for us.

A sense of pride and a swell of peace washes over me as I line up for the face-off. I vow to make each second on the ice count. But my play is cut short. We’re only four minutes into the game when I collide with the Shark’s center and hear my shoulder pop. Pain rips through my arm. The cool air rushes past my visor as I go down. My knee connects with the ice and it’s like landing on a grenade. I feel the vibrations ricochet throughout my body. My torso twists as I throw my good arm out in an attempt to slow my fall. But