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My Hockey Devil

My Hockey Devil

Romance
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
Por:  Zee Writes Em andamento
Idioma: English
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Sinopse

Dark Romance

Arrogant

Ruthless

Mafia

Hate to Love

Secret Love

Roman Thorne is the invincible team leader of college hockey. He is large, aggressive and a nightmare to the media. The press, however, does not know what makes the Briarwood Ice Devils so feared. They are not just players. They are ruthless, blood-swilling offspring of the most formidable crime business in the city. Trying to keep a small scandal which is about to blow up their small business, the Thorne family appeals to the service of Sloane Mercer. She is 24 years old and a brilliant ruthless PR fixer. Her task is easy: to improve the image of the team, to work with press, and not to put Roman in the prison. But Sloane has not come to save them. She is here to ruin them. Sloane is enraged by the club of men belonging to the toxic boys at the University which exploits women at school. She espies documents to bring down their empire. She feels it’s a perfect plan. But the boss notices her plan. Rather than shooting her, the vain, insane captain does even better. He turns into a mad man who is obsessing over her. Roman does not care about his gang, their criminal history, and the law. He is simply interested in this cold-blooded, witty lady significantly desires to ruin him. Handling her is capital punishment. In case the family discovers that the captain loves one of the traitors, the trouble will be extended past the ice. The school locker room becomes a instances of psychological battle where a girl is emulating god and the mob boss who desires to possess her. Can you endure the obsession of the boss? Read Chapter 1 now.

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Zee Writes
Zee Writes
Nice Read, can't wait for the remaining updates
2026-03-13 23:19:27
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10 Capítulos
Chapter One: The scent of blood and ice
Sloane's POVA majority of persons believe that cold is merely absence of heat. They are wrong. To be in the VIP section of the Briarwood University arena, the chill was that of frozen ammonia and bad sweat and impolite male ego. It reeked of athletics and dollars to cover up a short but deep-rooted problem.I looked at my Cartier watch. It said 6:00 AM. The Briarwood Ice Devils were performing difficult exercises below. I heard the noise of the steel scraping ice up into the black rafters. It was violent and rhythmic. A dozen large blacks and reds walloped the boards. They were the champions of the country--as though gods of the campuses--but they were also fearful nightmares.“You see they are angelic boys, coach Higgins muttered to himself.He was too close to me, and the dripping sweat was going through his suits despite the fact that the luxury box was climate-controlled. This was because Higgins smelled of cheap coffee and a sharp dilemma of recognizing that his life, which was
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-11
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Chapter 2: The Predator's Debt
POV: RomanI felt like a predator even before her appearance.It was not the smack of her heels on concrete- like the popping of a gun. It was the air in the room. It moved and went cold and electric, odorously unnatural of a locker room crowded with filthy creatures.Then I saw her.Sloane Mercer was 24 and had a reputation of making monsters saints depending on the price.There is no other way I can describe it, she was in the middle of my locker room, with 30 of the most violent men in the state around her and she was even so nonchalant. Most the men twice her size would wet themselves when they got in this room. They were aware that Ice Devils was more than a team. They were aware of us being the front line to the family of Thorne.But Sloane? She was gazing on my men like they were a stench she had to take the odor out of.I was looking through the door that was open in my quarters. I saw her stiff and icy gray eyes looking the room. Seat-searching was not what she was doing. She
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-11
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Chapter 3: The King's Shadow
POV: SloaneI could keep hearing the sound of the deadbolt long after Roman had gone out of my office. My hands were shaking. I hated it. I flattened my palms on the chill metal desk, and made my breathing so slow and regular: One, two, thirty. I was a professional. I had dealt with senators who would be charged with manslaughter and CEOs who made millions embezzled. I never broke.But Roman Thorne was neither a politician. He was a landslide.I put my hand into my leather tote bag, drew my laptop out, and got my fingers flat. I had work to do. To get the Thorne syndicate dismantled, I did not only require the level of gut feeling and leaked videos. I needed the digital trail.The next thing I did was to install the mirrored server which I would use to replicate the hard drives in the athletic department. Formally, I was to do PR leaks monitoring of the player communications. I was, in fact, looking after the ledger which attached the ticket sale of the Ice Devils to offshore account
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-11
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Chapter 4: The Heavy Crown
POV: RomanIt was the ice alone on which the sound in my head had subsided.Typically the cold served as an opiate. The puff of the air in my lungs, the soreness in my quads, the crack of the puck on the boards, it should have drowned the voice of my father, the demands of the syndicate, the itch I could never place, the itch to be violent.But this night the ice had been my failure. She was up at the same end like a gorgeous judgmental ghost looking through a piece of glass. Still, I could smell her, as I made my way toward the deep end of the arena, of bergamot, and vanilla, mingling with the sweat on my body. A daintly womanish perfume quite out of place with oil and blood and low-end cigarettes.I came into the loading place, with my skates on my shoulder. The iron blades have rung together with overlap of every great stride, a monotonous forceful sound that darted back to the walls of the damp concrete. The atmosphere was still, reeking with the exhaust of a stoning refrigerated
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-11
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Chapter five: The Devil in the Living Room.
POV: Sloane The smell was the first thing which struck me. It wasn’t the scent of a home. It was the scent of an arena; cold and metallic and weirdly dark mint that oozed out of Roman Thorne through his skin. I froze on the light switch. The shadows in my living room were heavier than they should be and they were thick with a presence which did not belong in my sanctuary. Awareness of being hunted came to me, in a sudden sharp shock, pricking my skin. Three years had passed along with the twenty-four hours a day I had loved to be a shadow, an unseen ghost in PR and legal warfare world. I made no mistakes. I left no trails. But the air in my apartment was filled with the rhythmic, lunging breathing of an indifferent, lawless, person. You have lost time, Sloane, a raw and scratching voice said of the darkness. It did not merely skip my heart, but it stopped. Tears were a confession, and I swore never to bow on my knees. I put my fingers to force the switch. The room was fill
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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Chapter 6: The Weight of the Blood.
POV: Roman I was no man of virtues, but one; and I knew how much strength it required to fracture an object. A hockey stick. A ribcage. A woman's resolve. I was on the fire escape in front of the Sloane apartment and the iron was cutting through the soles of my boots. The night air was terribly cold and stinging, though it normally cleared the fog out of my head, but it seemed to me like warm water that night. My skin was still buzzing. I still could taste her in my mouth--costly lip-paint and a hopeless, desperate insolence that left my blood with the quality of molten lead. Are you a good girl? Or are you mine? I had a feeling of the answer before I had even asked the question. Sloane Mercer wasn't "good." She was a gorgeous, reckoning fiasco, and as soon as she had not picked up that phone to call her agents, and I was still within the room, I knew I had her. Or she had me. There was not much of a difference in my world. I stepped down that rusted ladder, fluently and noisele
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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Chapter 7: The Invitation of the Devil
POV: Sloane My phone screen was glaring in the black bedroom. The south docks. Noon. Don't be late. I hadn't slept. The spectral aroma of his smell the intoxicating and frightening combination of dark mint and the scent of ozone still burned into the garment of my blazer, lingering in the air of my apartment, like an actual menace. And now, this text. An unmarked burner number. But I knew exactly who sent it. Roman Thorne. The heir in Thorne crime syndicate. The monster that now had just awakened to a night of proving to me that my locks, my boundaries, and my impeccable professional armour were of no use to him. I awoke with a shiver of the coldness of the apartment cutting at my naked shoulders. I would have sent the information to my contact at the FBI. That was the protocol. That was the job. Dial the feds, provide the place and have them search the docks with a tactical team. But protocol had not considered the flushed heat of my skin at the thought of Roman and his huge t
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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Chapter 8: The Viper's Nest
POV: Roman It had begun to rain the instant I walked away from the docks. It wasn't a clean rain. It had been a cold wet gush that smoothed out the streets of Briarwood with a coating of black ice and grease. My G-Wagon wipers were slamming fiercely on the windscreen, a beating, scratching noise, and it did not help to soothe the noise in my head one bit. My right hand, holding the steering wheel made of leather, was hanging over. I had a fight on the ice yesterday and my knuckles were cut wide open and the stuff taped was all a dull rotten brown. However, that was not what caught my eye. The scent of her remained in my hand. Bergamot. Vanilla. And the acute, intoxicating smell of female excitement which had been veiled by pure terror. I held on to the wheel until it was raped on the leather. I had meant to scare her. I have come to that store to remind Sloane Mercer of who was the powerhouse in this town. I was even going to strike her against the rust and the rot, give her the
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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Chapter 9: The Devil's Tailor
POV: Sloane The dark leather of the ledger book was decaying copper and forgotten things. It was lying on my marble kitchen island, a hideous ugly rotting object in the blaze of the pendant lights. I had been gazing at the hand written columns six hours. My coffee was ice cold. My eyes burned. The numbers were staggering. Silas Thorne did not merely operate a local crime syndicate, he owned the city infrastructure. He owned the port authority. He had three judges in the appellate court. And he owned Briarwood University board of directors. All the extortion, all the payouts, all the blood shed to keep the Ice Devils out of prison, was written with black ink. It was a wet dream of a federal prosecutor. And it was what my handler, Agent Harris, had sent me to the dark to discover. But I couldn't touch my phone. I could not see justice because whenever I looked at the book, I could not. I saw Roman. His chest, which seemed to me to be phantom-hot, was pushing me against the rusted
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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Chapter 10: The Liar's Kiss
POV: Sloane Bang. Bang. Bang. "Sloane Mercer. Open the door." The pounding was heavy and shook the floor through. Agent Harris. My handler. A man who was the stiff, Babbittian club of boys of the Bureau--men, who idled behind desks, whilst women like myself took risks to their lives in the black. Harris didn't respect me. He only wanted the promotion which my brains would purchase. Roman Thorne had not flinched anywhere in the kitchen. The short end of his Glock 19 was directly aimed at the heavy oak door. his attitude was broad, easy, and absolutely fatal. His jet-black eyes were flashing towards me. Waiting. Choose, sweetheart. My decision was made within a second. I wasn't choosing him. I was choosing control. I lunged across the kitchen. I caught hold on the heavy, leathers bound shadow ledger on the marble island and pushed it directly into the bottom drawer of the oven kicking it with my bare foot. Then I turned on Roman. He was a foot taller and a hundred pounds of cor
last updateÚltima atualização : 2026-03-13
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