Married overnight to the Hockey Captain

Scripted Romance

Harper Collins

“I don't care about the case!" Harper fired back, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. The emerald dress suddenly felt like armor she wanted to rip off. "There is a massive difference between reading a fake timeline and physically putting my mouth on a stranger in front of millions of people! My integrity is not for sale, and I won't be paraded around like an actress in your corporate theater!"

"This isn't theater, it's crisis management!" Ben snapped back, stepping closer, his face flushing with stress. "If you don't do this, the background check I'm running won't even matter because the media will tear your life apart by tomorrow morning anyway. They will hunt down your family in New Zealand, they will interview your old bosses, they will make you the most hated woman in sports media! Do you want that?"

"Don't threaten her, Ben."

Liam’s voice cut through the shouting. The room immediately went dead silent. He stepped into the space between Harper and his agent, his massive frame creating a physical barrier just like he had done in the alleyway. He didn't look at Ben as his eyes were fixed entirely on Harper. He took in the slight tremble in her hands, the defensive way she held the papers against her chest, and the sheer terror hidden behind her anger.

He turned his head slightly to address his agent, his tone freezing cold. "If the kiss isn't necessary, there's no need. We aren't forcing her into anything."

Ben let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, throwing his hands up in the air. "Oh, brilliant. The captain is getting soft. Let me make this clear to both of you: the kiss is necessary. The network producers specifically requested a demonstration of affection to validate the exclusivity of the interview. The whole world is watching this broadcast. If you don't deliver the romance, the sponsors are going to start pulling out by midnight, and the board will suspend you for conduct detrimental to the team before game one."

Ben checked his watch, his expression hardening as he backed toward the dressing room door. "You have thirty-five minutes left. I don't care how you figure it out, but you need to practice your scripts until you are called down to the stage. Get it together. Both of you."

With that, Ben stepped out, slamming the heavy door behind him.

The sound echoed off the marble walls, leaving a tense, suffocating quiet in its wake.

Harper stood rooted to the spot, her breathing shallow as she stared at the closed door.

The reality of her situation felt like a tightening noose. She looked down at the paper, the words blurring together before her eyes.

"Hey."

Liam’s voice was much softer now, devoid of the hard edge he had used with Ben. He took a slow step toward her, keeping his hands visible, respecting her space. "Look at me, Harper."

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his ocean-blue eyes.

Up close, she could see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. He was under an immense amount of pressure, the weight of a multi-million-dollar career and a city's expectations resting entirely on his shoulders, yet he was looking at her with genuine concern.

"He's right about one thing," Liam said quietly, his gaze dropping to the script in his hand before returning to her face. "If we don't look convincing, the press will turn into wolves. They won't stop until they drag both of us through the mud. I can handle the heat—I've been in the spotlight since I was ten. But you shouldn't have to suffer for a mistake we don't even remember making."

Harper swallowed hard, her throat tight. "So... you think we should do it? The kiss?"

Liam paused, a complex emotion shifting behind his eyes as his gaze traced the sharp planes of her face, lingering for a fraction of a second on her lips before he forced his eyes back to hers. "I think we need to survive tonight. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can fake it. I can angle my head toward the camera, block their view with my shoulder, and just press my lips to your cheek or the corner of your mouth. They won't be able to tell the difference on the main broadcast."

A strange, unexpected warmth bloomed in Harper’s chest, cutting through the icy fear.

He was offering her a way out, protecting her dignity even when his own career was on the line.

She looked at him—this tall, impossibly handsome hockey captain who was completely out of her league—and realized that beneath the arrogant persona the media loved to write about, there was a man who possessed a deep, instinctual sense of honor.

She let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping slightly as she looked down at the emerald silk of her dress.

She was already in the cage; there was no point in fighting the bars until the door was unlocked.

"Okay," she whispered, looking back up at him, her hazel eyes steadying. "Let's practice the script."

Liam nodded, a small, barely perceptible softening appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Alright. Let's start from page one. Tell me how we fell in love."