Hockey Star by Day, Oil Mogul by night
Rule number one: Do not kiss strange men in clubs.
Rule number two: Never kiss the owner of the club.
Rule number three: If he’s a secret billionaire with a dark past and a disturbing obsession with your heartbeat? Run.
My name is Scarlett Whitmore. And I broke all three.
I was born with a heart condition called Mitral Valve Prolapse.
My mother hates me for ruining her life.
My brother cannot stand me.
And my boyfriend, Drake Bittencourt, the man I thought was the love of my life, proposed to my twin sister in front of 19,000 hockey fans. And she accepted him without hesitation.
When my sister walks into the club I work at, flaunting Drake’s ring without remorse, I make a rash decision: I grab the first man that catches my fancy and kiss him like my life depends on it.
He turns out to be Harlan Rousseau. Team captain of the formidable Vancouver Icefangs. Hockey god. And according to the tabloids, dead broke and drowning in debt.
But the tabloids are wrong.
Not only is Harlan Rousseau NOT broke, he’s the secret heir to a ninety- billion-dollar oil empire.
He offers me a deal: wear his ring. play the devoted wife. And sleep in his bed for a year. In exchange, he’ll pay off my medical debt and save my best friend from homelessness.
The most important of all: he offers a chance to get my revenge.
I should’ve said no.
But I was desperate. And desperate women make deals with the devil.
The longer I stay, the more I realize Harlan Rousseau is not just hiding wealth. He’s hiding a monster.
And I’m starting to think I don’t want to run from it…