All Chapters of Faking It With Hockey Alpha: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Aurora.We walked straight past the lobby security, following a quiet assistant down a long corridor that opened into a massive boardroom. Five men and two women sat around a long table wearing expensive suits and grim expressions while Victoria stood in the corner with a tablet pressed to her chest.Roland pulled out a chair for me and I sat down as he took the seat right next to mine. My hands shook the moment I let go of my purse, so I tucked them under my thighs and squeezed my knees together to hide the tremors.“We have limited time, so let us get straight to the point,” an older man with graying hair announced from the head of the table. “You assaulted another player on live television, Roland, and now you claim it was because he insulted a girlfriend no one in this room has ever heard of.”“I keep my private life private,” Roland answered, leaning back in his chair like he owned the building. “My relationship with Aurora is nobody’s business until a rival player decides to mak

Aurora.“Wait, what?” I asked, stepping closer to the curb. “What do you mean I am relocating?”Roland did not answer me. He just stepped on the gas and his sports car sped away down the street, leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake. I stood on the sidewalk, watching the taillights disappear around the corner while my brain tried to process his ridiculous demand. I crossed my arms and marched toward my apartment building. I assured myself that I was not packing a single bag and I was definitely not moving into his penthouse to play house. I liked my space and I needed a place to escape his arrogant attitude. He could not just order me around like one of his teammates. I was an independent journalist, not a pet he could drag from one location to another just to satisfy the board members.I pushed open the glass entrance doors and headed for the stairs.“Good afternoon, Miss Hayes,” Mr. Henderson called out from his ground-floor office.My landlord stood in his doorway wearing a wide

Aurora.Three days passed and the anonymous text message burned a hole in my brain. I sat on my sofa every night, staring at the glowing screen while wondering who wanted me to beware of the Wolves. The message offered no context and no identity, but it dragged up all the bizarre theories my father used to obsess over.My dad lost his journalism career rambling about strange secrets and hidden monsters within this franchise. I kept the warning to myself and refused to tell Roland about it because he would just yell or demand I move into his apartment for protection. I needed space to figure this out on my own. When he finally sent me a message inviting me to attend his first team practice since the suspension, I agreed immediately.I wanted to see the team up close and carry on the investigations my father started years ago. I needed to know if my dad was actually crazy or if he was right about the strange things happening around the arena. I grabbed my canvas bag and headed out the d

Aurora.I bolted to my feet with my heart hammering against my ribs, spinning around so fast that my heel caught on a tree root. I stumbled back against the wooden bench and raised my fists, ready to fight for my life against whatever stalker had cornered me in the forest.Roland stood in the shadows of the overhanging branches with his hands jammed into the pockets of his dark jacket. He blinked at my raised fists and tilted his head slightly.“What is wrong with you?” I shouted, pressing my palm against my chest to stop my heart from leaping out of my throat. “You snuck up on me like a ghost in the woods. You nearly gave me a heart attack, you freak.”I paused my scolding abruptly. Roland did not yell back, nor did he scoff or roll his eyes at my dramatic reaction. He stood rooted to the dirt path with his gaze dropped to the dead leaves covering his boots. A dark flush crept up his neck and his shoulders slumped forward. He looked thoroughly guilt-ridden, like a child who had bee

Aurora.I stared down at the delicate rim of my soup bowl, watching a single bubble burst on the surface. My palms were slick with cold sweat against my red silk dress, sticking uncomfortably to the smooth fabric.I had to say something before my lungs forgot how to process oxygen altogether.“The roasted vegetables are really delicious, Mrs. Blackwood,” I offered, forcing a small smile to my face. “Did you use fresh herbs from your garden?”Across the table, Mr. Blackwood didn’t even blink at my desperate attempt to thaw the freezing atmosphere. His jaw remained clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter under the pressure. Slowly and deliberately, he placed his wine glass onto the white tablecloth with a sharp thud that made me jump in my seat.“Herbs?” Mr. Blackwood scoffed, leaning forward so the overhead chandelier cast harsh shadows across his sharp eyes. “We are sitting here discussing the fragile reputation of this family and you want to talk about the seasoning on t