Semua Bab Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player: Bab 51 - Bab 60

LIAMTHIRTY MINUTES AGOI have to force myself to stay put and not chase after her.Frustration knots in my chest, tightening like a fist around my ribs. It makes no sense.Why do I care this much?If Emilia wants to run back to Zane, that’s her choice. She doesn’t owe me anything.All she has to do is fix my image — turn me back into the media darling I used to be. That’s it. Simple.Hell, wouldn’t it be easier for her if she just left me in the dust and rode off into the sunset with her ex?Then why does the thought make me feel like I’ve just been checked into the boards. Hard.A million excuses race through my mind, but none of them make sense. None of them feel right.None of them are enough to make this up to Emilia.“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning against the railing. For a second, I consider throwing myself over just to escape this mess.The party is still going strong behind me, even though Becca and Zane disappeared over an hour ago. The music is loud, pounding

TESSAGod help me.Of course it’s Aaron freaking Cobalt. Because why not?There he is — gliding across the ice like it’s an extension of his body, all smooth lines and effortless control. He isn’t just good. He was stupidly, unfairly, annoyingly good.Left winger for the NYC Titans, but honestly? If Liam is the heart of the team, Aaron is the sharp edge. Fast, unpredictable, and lethal when it counts. The kind of player that makes defence lines cry and sports commentators lose their minds.Everyone loves to compare them — Liam, the golden boy center, all power and precision. Aaron, the chaos wrapped in charm, turning plays into magic like it was no big deal. Together, they make the Titans impossible to beat. Separately? Still a damn nightmare.And of course, he’s the last person I want to see right now.I spin on my heel, making a beeline for the exit, but my stupid heels betray me. The sharp CLACK, CLACK echoes louder than his skates slicing the ice, and I hear him stop. I can practi

LIAMEIGHT HOURS AGOI don’t think.I can’t.Because if I let myself process what I’m seeing — what he was trying to do to her — I’ll lose it completely.Stone has Emilia backed against the wall, and the look on her face? Pure fear. Her eyes are wide, glassy. She’s frozen, small, shaking.My heart nearly stops.Then something inside me snaps.I yank him off her, and without hesitating, I throw my fist at his jaw.CRACK.The sound is sickening, but satisfying.“Shit!” Stone stumbles, clutching his face. He looks at me like he’s just now realising he messed with the wrong person.But I’m not even close to done.All I can see is her — Emilia. Scared. Cornered. Pressed against that damn wall by someone who thought he had the right to touch her.My vision goes red.I grab him by the collar and slam him back against the wall.“Touch her again,” I growl, my voice low and shaking with rage, “and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”Another punch. Harder this time.Stone drops to the floor, groanin

EMILIALuther always leaves the kitchen lights on.Every. Single. Time.It’s why Diana says he has the stealth of a dying elephant and why Mum cuts his allowance every time she finds out he’s raided the fridge at midnight.“Everything in life is a choice,” Mum always says, flipping through her morning paper, while Dad rubs her shoulders and nods like she’s preaching gospel. “And unfortunately, that includes your poor career decisions. If you choose to be a criminal, at least be a competent one.”So yeah — tonight is no different.I tiptoe down the stairs, socked feet silent on the wood, already mentally preparing my ‘caught you red-handed’ speech.The kitchen lights are on. The fridge door’s wide open.And someone’s standing there.I scowl. Rookie mistake, Luther. Mum would’ve had your head if the staff weren’t all gone for the holidays.When I walk into the kitchen, I find Luther sitting on the counter.He’s sketching something on his iPad with his Apple Pencil, completely in his own

EMILIAWhat the hell do I even say to that?I just... stare at him. Like an idiot. My mouth opens, but no words come out.Liam gives me this small, sad smile — dimples and all — and somehow that’s worse. It knocks the air right out of my lungs.“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes lightly against my hand, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to.”A million responses spin through my brain — yes, no, maybe, kiss me — but none of them make it out.So instead, I blurt out, “I still don’t forgive you.”His lips twitch. “Deserved.”“And you’re going to have to work for it,” I add, trying — and failing — to sound stern.Liam leans in just a little, like he can’t help himself. His voice drops low, almost like a secret. “Well,” he says, that crooked smile stealing the air from my lungs, “I’d look better begging on my knees anyway.”My heart absolutely short-circuits. And judging by the wicked glint in his eyes, he knows