บททั้งหมดของ In His Rival’s Arm: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 5

Maya’s POV The scent of expensive cologne and unfamiliar vanilla perfume was the first thing that hit me when I unlocked the front door of Jonathan’s penthouse.It was past midnight. I had used my spare key, wanting to surprise him after his long road trip. He was supposed to be resting after a tough game against Boston. Instead, the entryway was dimly lit, and a pair of small, red high heels sat right by the rug.Red heels. I didn't own red heels.My heart did a strange, uncomfortable flip. I told myself there was a logical explanation. Maybe his mother was visiting. Maybe a team assistant had dropped off his luggage. But as I walked quietly down the hardwood floor toward his master bedroom, the soft murmur of voices broke the silence."Jonathan, stop... what if she comes over?"The female voice was soft, giggly, and sickeningly familiar.I didn't back away. The quiet shock shattered into a white-hot wave of disbelief. My hand slammed into the cracked bedroom door, throwing it wide

Maya’s POV The world went dead silent for three whole seconds."What?" I gasped, convinced I had misheard him."Fake date me," he repeated, leaning down slightly so his eyes were level with mine. "We make a few public appearances. We go to a couple of high-profile dinners. You get full, exclusive access to my life for your journalism career—articles, quotes, whatever you need to get promoted. And in exchange, I get the press off my back about my private life."I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. "You're insane.""I'm pragmatic," Knox countered, a dark spark in his eyes. "It helps my image, it launches your career, and you get your story.""No," I said, shaking my head and taking a step back. "No way. I am not getting involved in a fake media circus with a professional athlete.""Why me?" I whispered. "You could ask any woman in this room."Knox’s gaze dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes again. "Because you're the only woman who didn't back down w

Maya's POVThe evening air carried the scent of rain-washed asphalt and expensive cologne as Knox’s hand settled at the small of my back, guiding me through the side entrance of the restaurant. Outside, the flashbulbs had already begun their frantic dance—reporters shouting my name, fans pressing against the velvet ropes, phones held high. I kept my chin lifted the way he’d taught me, the practiced half-smile that said I belonged here even while my pulse hammered against my throat.Inside the VIP section the noise dulled to a low murmur. The room was glass-walled but frosted, private enough that the handful of other power players at neighboring tables only glanced up once before returning to their conversations. Candlelight flickered across dark wood and white linen. Knox pulled out my chair, the perfect gentleman, then sat beside me instead of across, his thigh brushing mine under the table.We ordered. The waiter poured wine. Knox’s fingers found the hem of my dress almost immediate