Three

CASSY

The next morning, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my new bedroom, adjusting the collar of my team polo shirt.

Today was my first official day as a sports physiotherapist for the Los Angeles Kings. I should have felt excited, but all I felt was nervous dread.

A knock sounded on my door.

“Come in,” I called.

Mom peeked inside, smiling brightly. “Breakfast is ready, Sweetheart. Richard wants us all downstairs.”

I followed her to the dining area. Richard was already seated, reading the newspaper, while Damon leaned against the kitchen island drinking coffee. He wore a fitted black compression shirt that hugged his broad chest and tattooed arms, with grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.

His eyes flicked to me, dark and amused. “Morning, Pinky.”

My cheeks warmed instantly. I ignored him.

Richard looked up with a pleased smile. “Ah, perfect timing. Cassy, today’s your first day, right? Damon has morning training and recovery session. Since you’re both heading to the arena, I suggest you ride together.”

I froze. “That’s okay, I can drive separately—”

“Nonsense,” Richard interrupted warmly. “You’re family now. Damon doesn’t mind, do you, son?”

Damon’s smirk deepened, slow and cocky. “Not at all. I’ll drive.”

Before I could protest further, Mom turned to Damon with a soft, hopeful smile and gently held his arm.

“Damon, please…take good care of Cassy, okay? She’s been through a lot lately. You’re her big brother now.”

Damon looked at my mom for a moment, then nodded. “I promise, Elena. I’ll look after her.”

Mom’s face lit up with relief. “Thank you, dear.”

“Perfect! You two can bond more on the way.” Richard smiled proudly.

“Yes! This is going to be wonderful.” Mom clapped her hands happily.

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

Then,I climbed into Damon’s sleek black Lamborghini. The interior smelled of expensive leather and his signature cologne. He slid into the driver’s seat, starting the powerful engine with a low rumble.

The mansion gates opened as we pulled out onto the quiet streets of Beverly Hills.

For the first few minutes, the silence was heavy. I kept my eyes fixed on the road, hands clasped tightly in my lap.

“So,” Damon finally spoke, his voice deep and lazy, “first day on the job. Nervous, Pinky?”

“A little,” I admitted. “Especially knowing I have to treat your shoulder.”

He chuckled arrogantly. “Don’t worry. My shoulder isn’t the only thing I want your hands on.”

“Damon,” I warned, shooting him a sharp glare. “We talked about this. We have to stay professional. We’re step-siblings now. Off limits.”

He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, dangerously close to my thigh. “You keep saying that like it’s going to stop me from wanting to fuck you again.”

My breath caught. I turned to look out the window, my cheeks burning pink.

The drive to th Arena took about twenty-five minutes. Damon drove fast but smoothly, the Lamborghini purring beneath us. Every time he shifted gears, his fingers brushed near my knee.

When we finally pulled into the private player parking lot, he didn’t turn off the engine. Instead, he parked in a secluded corner, away from the other cars.

I reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at—”

Damon’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist gently but firmly.

“Wait,” he said, voice suddenly lower and rough.

I turned to face him. The air inside the car became thick and electric. His dark eyes burned into mine with raw hunger. The usual cocky smirk had disappeared.

“Cassy…” he murmured.

He leaned in slowly, one tattooed arm sliding across the center console. His face moved closer, breath warm against my lips. I could smell mint and his cologne.

My heart pounded wildly.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. He was so close—just like that night in Vegas one week ago.

“Damon…” I whispered, half warning, half longing.

His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. He tilted his head, closing the distance.

But then he stopped.

Millimeters away from my lips, he froze. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with internal conflict. Reality seemed to hit him—we were now stepbrother and stepsister. Forbidden.

He pulled back sharply, leaning against his seat and running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

I sat there frozen, heart racing, lips tingling even though he never kissed me. The almost-kiss left me dizzy and frustrated.

Damon stared straight ahead, jaw tight. “Get out.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said coldly. “Go. Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

I grabbed my bag with shaking hands and stepped out of the Lamborghini. The morning air felt cool against my heated skin.

Before I closed the door, I looked back at him. “This is exactly why we need to stay away from each other.”

Damon didn’t reply. He only gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring forward like he was fighting a war with himself.

I shut the door and walked toward the arena entrance without looking back. My legs felt weak.

This was only day one, and the tension between us was already unbearable.

If he could barely control himself in the car… How were we supposed to survive the next two weeks alone in that mansion?

Worse—a dark, secret part of me was disappointed he had stopped.

*****

My first official day at the arena felt heavier than I expected.

After changing into my team polo shirt and slacks in the staff locker room, I walked through the wide, brightly lit hallways.

The arena was alive with energy—players shouting, skates scraping against the ice, and staff rushing around with equipment.

I tried to focus on my new role as a physiotherapist for the Los Angeles Kings, but my nerves were already frayed from the tense ride with Damon this morning.

I had just turned a corner toward the medical wing when I froze.

Jake.

My cheating ex-boyfriend stood only ten meters away, adjusting a professional camera around his neck. The new team photographer badge hung clearly on his chest.

The same man I caught fucking another woman in my bed just one week ago was now working here.

My stomach twisted with anger and disgust. Before I could turn around and avoid him, Jake looked up and saw me. His face went pale with shock.

“Cassy…” he breathed, quickly walking toward me.

I stood still, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “What the hell are you doing here, Jake?”

He stopped in front of me, looking nervous but determined. “I’m the new official team photographer. I started this week. I swear I had no idea you’d be working here too.”

“Cassy, please… I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you have. That’s why I blocked you everywhere—calls, messages, social media. There’s nothing left to say.”

Jake stepped closer, his voice low and pleading. “It was one stupid mistake. We had that big fight, I was drunk and angry, and I—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, cutting him off sharply. “I don’t want your excuses. I saw everything with my own eyes. You were in my apartment, in my bed, with another girl. We’re done. Completely done!”

He reached out and grabbed my wrist tightly, refusing to let go. “Cassy, I still love you. I want us back. Give me another chance. I’ll prove I’ve changed. Please.”

His grip was painful. I tried to yank my arm free. “Let me go, Jake!”

Before he could say anything else, loud voices and laughter echoed from the main entrance. I turned my head instinctively.

Damon had just walked in with a stunningly beautiful woman. She was tall, with long silky hair, flawless makeup, and endless legs. I recognized her immediately—Lila Kane, the famous international model who had graced countless magazine covers.

Without hesitation, Lila wrapped her arms around Damon’s neck and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss right there in the hallway.

Damon kissed her back, one hand resting possessively on her waist as he pulled her body flush against his in a tight hug.

Lila smiled up at him, still clinging to his arm, while Damon wore his usual arrogant smirk.

Whispers immediately spread among the nearby staff.

“That’s Lila Kane… Damon’s girlfriend. They’ve been together for months.”

“Such a hot power couple. He really is the ultimate bad boy — captain on the ice, supermodel on his arm.”

“Typical Damon Voss. Never without beautiful women around him.”

My chest tightened painfully. So this was the real Damon. The cocky, tattooed NHL captain who had fucked me senseless in Vegas one week ago, almost kissed me in his Lamborghini this morning, and now openly made out with a famous model like it meant nothing.

He truly lived up to his playboy reputation. Huh!

Jake’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Cassy, listen to me. I know I messed up badly, but we can fix this. You blocked me because you were hurt, I get it. But I’m here now. We work at the same place. This must be fate.”

I glared at him, still struggling to free my wrist from his tight grip. “Fate? Are you serious? The only thing I feel when I see you is disgust.”

“We’re over, Jake. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

He tightened his hold even more, his face desperate. “I’m not letting you go until you hear me out. I deserve a chance to explain properly.”

My heart pounded with irritation.

I glanced around, hoping no one was paying too much attention to our argument.

That was when Damon’s eyes found us from across the hallway.