Todos os capítulos de The Ice King's Fake Girlfriend: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

The Grand Ballroom of the St. Regis was a shimmering cage of crystal chandeliers and whispered scandals. Tiffany Everhart adjusted her yellow butter evening dress, her heart fluttering with a mix of champagne bubbles and genuine nerves. Beside her, Nathaniel Westbourne looked every bit the rising star of the financial world—sharp, polished, and terrifyingly handsome."Can you believe it’s been three years, Nat?" Tiffany leaned in, her voice low and warm against the roar of the crowd. "It feels like yesterday we were sharing that shitty takeout on your apartment floor."Nathaniel didn’t look at her. His eyes were scanning the room, hunting for someone. "Hm? Yeah. A lot has changed since then, Tiffany.""I was thinking," Tiffany continued, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Nathaniel’s forehead. "Maybe after the auction, we could slip away? I have a bottle of that vintage Bordeaux you like waiting back at my place."Nathaniel finally turned, but there was no warmth in his gaze. He c

The elevator doors hissed shut, sealing the two of them into a box of brushed steel and the cloying scent of caramel-scented disaster. Julian’s hand stayed on the control panel, his finger hovering over the emergency stop button. He pressed it. With a mechanical groan, the lift jolted to a halt between floors."Tell me, Miss Everhart," Julian murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. "Do you have a death wish, or do you just have a very good lawyer?"Tiffany swallowed hard, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She looked at the massive coffee stain on Julian’s chest and then up at the man’s glacial eyes. "Neither. I just have a really good eye for branding, and right now? Your brand is tanking."Julian’s eyes narrowed. "You’re standing in a stalled elevator, covered in cheap blouse, having just assaulted a CEO. I’m not sure you’re in a position to give career advice.""It wasn’t an assault! It was a very aggressive delivery," Tiffany shot back, trying to channel the same b

The weight of Julian’s hand on Tiffany’s hip felt like a brand, a warm pressure that didn’t vanish even as they reached the edge of the VIP lounge. Tiffany felt her pulse thrumming in her throat, her skin prickling where Julian’s thumb continued its slow, rhythmic brush against the velvet of her blazer."I need to wash my face," Tiffany whispered, her voice slightly breathless. "The adrenaline is starting to make me twitch."Julian didn't let go immediately. He leaned in, his silver-gray eyes searching Tiffany’s for a second too long. "Don't be long. The auctioneer is about to take the stage, and I’d prefer my 'consultant' by my side when the bidding starts.""Five minutes, Jules," Tiffany teased, testing the nickname again.Julian’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something—not quite anger, but certainly not indifference—crossing his face. "Go. Before I decide to fine you for over-familiarity."Tiffany escaped to the marble-clad sanctuary of the women’s room. She leaned over the sink, spl

The heavy door of the luxury town car shut with a dull, vacuum-sealed thud, instantly cutting off the roar of the paparazzi outside the St. Regis.Tiffany collapsed into the buttery leather seat, letting out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she first put on her red velvet blazer. The scent of Julian’s expensive, woodsy cologne filled the confined space, warm and inexplicably grounding."That was a bloodbath," Tiffany said, staring at the tinted window as the city lights began to blur past. "Four million dollars, Julian? You practically stripped Nathaniel of his dignity in front of the entire tristate elite.""It was an acquisition," Julian corrected smoothly, not a single hair out of place. He reached for a crystal decanter from the built-in bar, pouring two fingers of amber liquid. "And a highly calculated one.""You did it to humiliate him.""I did it because he dared to raise his paddle in a room where I was speaking," Julian said. He didn't look at her, but his voic

"Miss Everhart," a voice squeaked. Tiffany stopped, her heels clicking to a sharp halt on the pristine, white Calacatta marble of the Ravencourt Headquarters lobby. The receptionist, a young woman whose name tag read Claire, was staring at her with wide, utterly terrified eyes. Her hands trembled as she held out a gold-embossed security pass. "Mr. Ravencourt is expecting you," Claire whispered, her voice barely carrying over the hum of the massive waterfall feature cascading down the lobby’s eastern wall. "He... he cleared his entire morning. He never clears his morning. Not even for the Swiss delegation." "Thank you, Claire," Tiffany said, offering a warm, reassuring smile. "No need to look like you're handing me a stay of execution." "Oh, it's not you we're worried about," a hurried voice muttered from behind her. Tiffany turned to find Curtis, a senior associate who look