Fake Dating Him, Admired by His Rival

Sienna’s Pov The smell of freshly polished ice always made my head hurt, but today it was making my stomach turn into knots. I never cared about hockey. I didn’t care about the loud crowds, the flashing lights, or the grown men beating each other up over a tiny rubber puck. But standing in the high end glass office overlooking the arena, I couldn’t escape it. "It's just business, Sienna," Grayson Cole said, resting his hands on his giant oak desk. He was the general manager of the team, and he looked like a man who hadn't slept in three days. "You need the funding for your community arts program, and we need someone normal, quiet, and completely unbothered by the media to balance Callum out." "Callum Hayes is a walking disaster," I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. "He got into two bar fights last month, yelled at a referee on live television, and broke a camera when a photographer got too close to his car. His reputation is in the trash, Grayson. Why would I want my name attached to that?" "Because his ruined reputation is costing us millions in corporate sponsorships," Grayson replied, his voice dropping into a desperate plead. "The board is ready to suspend him. But if the public sees him settled down with someone down to earth like you, the story changes. He’s not a wild playboy anymore. He’s a guy in love." "I am an event director, not an actress," I said firmly. "I am not fake dating your superstar." I stood up, ready to walk out the door and never look back. My career was finally stable, and the last thing I needed was to be thrown into the middle of a circus. But just as my hand touched the shiny silver door handle, the door swung open from the outside. Callum Hayes walked in, bringing the cold air of the ice rink with him. He was taller in person than he looked on television, broad shouldered and dressed in a tailored black suit that looked way too expensive for a guy who spent his life falling on ice. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his sharp blue eyes locked onto mine immediately. He didn't look like a disaster. He looked completely in control, which somehow made him even more dangerous. "You must be Sienna," Callum said, his voice deep and smooth. He didn't offer to shake my hand. He just stood there, looking down at me like I was a problem he needed to solve. "And you're late," I said, matching his cool tone. Callum raised an eyebrow, a small, arrogant smirk touching the corner of his lips. "I was on the ice. Some of us actually work for a living." "Callum, please," Grayson sighed, rubbing his temples. "We were just discussing the proposal." "She said no, didn't she?" Callum asked, turning his gaze away from me to look at Grayson. "She has doubts," Grayson said cautiously. "I don't have doubts," I corrected, stepping right into Callum's space so he had to look down at me again. "I have a firm answer. The answer is no. I have no desire to be part of your publicity stunt. I like my quiet life, and I intend to keep it." Callum stared at me for a long moment. The arrogant smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a dark, intense look that sent a sudden spike of nervous heat through my chest. He took a single step closer, closing the distance between us until I could smell his cologne, something like cedar and cold winter air. "Grayson," Callum said without taking his eyes off me. "Give us a minute." "Callum, don't mess this up," Grayson warned, but he quickly grabbed his file folders and hurried out of the office, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. The room fell dead silent. The tension between us was so thick I could barely draw a breath. "You think this is fun for me?" Callum asked, his voice dropping low, almost a whisper. "You think I want to drag a stranger into my mess?" "Then don't," I snapped, trying to ignore how fast my heart was beating. "Tell Grayson to find someone else." "I can't," Callum said. He took another step forward, forcing me back until the back of my legs hit the soft leather edge of Grayson's desk. "Because you're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a trophy or a golden ticket. You look at me like you actually dislike me. And ironically, that makes you the only person the media will actually believe." "That's crazy," I whispered, holding my breath as he reached out. His fingers didn't touch my skin, but they hovered just inches away near my shoulder, catching a loose strand of my hair and gently tucking it behind my ear. His hand was warm, sending an unexpected chill straight down my spine. His icy blue eyes softened for a tiny fraction of a second, revealing something raw and tired beneath his confident mask. "I'm offering to completely fund your arts program for the next five years," Callum said softly, his eyes searching mine. "No red tape. No waiting for grants. Just a signature on a paper. All you have to do is show up, smile for a few cameras, and pretend you don't hate my guts." My breath hitched. Five years of funding meant everything to me. It meant saving the center. It meant giving dozens of kids a safe place to go after school. He was offering me my life's dream on a silver platter, and all it cost was my pride. "Six months," I demanded, forcing my voice not to tremble. "We do this for six months, and then we pretend to break up quietly." Callum’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "Six months. Deal." An hour later, I found myself standing in the brightly lit lobby of the arena. The heavy glass doors opened, and the flashing lights of a dozen news cameras immediately blinded me. A crowd of reporters was waiting outside, shouting questions all at once, their voices echoing off the tall ceiling. "Is it true, Callum?" "Who is she?" "Callum, look over here!" Panic surged in my chest. My legs felt like lead, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. Before I could turn around and run back into the building, a strong, warm hand slid into mine, his long fingers wrapping securely around my hand. I looked up in shock. Callum wasn't looking at the cameras. He was looking down at me. "Just breathe," he murmured, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand. "Stick close to me and don't let go." He pulled me gently against his side. My body slammed against his hard chest, and I gasped at the sudden closeness. Callum’s arm wrapped firmly around my waist, holding me tight against him as he guided me out into the sea of flashing lights. His touch felt entirely too real. The controlled, icy superstar suddenly looked flushed, his jaw tight as his eyes darted from the cameras down to my face. For a fraction of a second, his cool blue eyes held genuine warmth, and my heart did a dangerous, terrifying flip inside my chest. We weren't supposed to be real. But as the cameras flashed around us, I realized pretending was going to be much harder than I thought.