The Captain's Secret Baby

Chapter 5: S3x Partner

Avery's Point of View

The arena looked nothing like the noisy stadium I remembered from years ago. At seven-thirty in the morning, the corridors were almost silent, with only the distant hum of maintenance equipment and the occasional echo of skates scraping against the ice drifting through the building. The stillness should have calmed me, yet every step I took only made my heartbeat louder.

I tightened my grip on the folder tucked against my chest. Inside were my temporary medical license, employment documents, and every form the organization had required before allowing me to take over Dr. Lena Morales's position. Seeing my own name printed beneath the team's logo felt strangely unreal, as though someone else's life had been handed to me by mistake.

The receptionist greeted me warmly before pointing me toward the medical department.

"Dr. Morales's office is at the end of the hallway. Coach Harrison will meet you after practice."

"Thank you." I forced a polite smile before continuing down the corridor.

As I neared the end of the long hallway, a tall, broad-shouldered player stepped out of the training room. He was wearing his team practice jersey, a towel draped over his neck, and a roguish smirk on his face. It was Mason Vance, the team's notorious star winger.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me, his eyes widening with immediate interest as they swept from my face down to my legs.

"Well, hello there," Mason said, his voice dripping with easy charm as he deliberately stepped into my path, forcing me to halt. "I don't think I've seen you around the rink before. Are you lost, or did Christmas come early for the roster?"

I held the folder tighter against my chest, maintaining a polite, professional distance. "I'm Dr. Avery Sinclair. I'm taking over for Dr. Morales."

"A doctor?" Mason chuckled, leaning one hand against the wall and tilting his head closer to me, entirely ignoring personal space. "Suddenly, my hamstring feels incredibly tight. Do you do private, one-on-one evaluations, Doc? Because I'd be more than happy to let you get your hands on me."

I forced a practiced, detached smile. "If you have an injury, Mr. Vance, you can fill out a symptom sheet with the receptionist."

"Cold. I like a challenge," Mason winked, leaning in even further.

"See you around, Doc," Mason murmured with a lazy grin before finally walking past me toward the ice.

As I turned to head into the office, a movement at the far end of the dim corridor caught my attention. A tall, rigid silhouette was retreating into the shadows near the secondary locker room. Even from a distance, I recognized the commanding build and the sharp, angry stride.

Rhett.

My stomach did a nervous flip. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen Mason hitting on me? I shook the uneasy feeling off, telling myself it didn't matter. I hadn't done anything wrong.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and turned the knob to Lena's office, bracing myself for the day ahead.

The familiar scent of antiseptic greeted me as I stepped inside. Lena had always kept her workspace immaculate, and nothing had changed. Medical journals were stacked neatly on one shelf, anatomical charts decorated the walls, and a framed photograph of her graduating class sat beside the computer monitor.

I smiled despite myself.

Some things never changed.

Placing my folder on the desk, I switched on the computer and opened the team's medical database. Player profiles immediately filled the screen, complete with injury histories, rehabilitation plans, and preseason evaluations waiting for my approval.

There were dozens of names.

One stood out immediately.

Rhett Kane.

My cursor hovered over it, but I couldn't bring myself to click. A strange feeling crawled across my skin. As though… I wasn't alone.

My heartbeat faltered. Slowly, I turned toward the seating area tucked into the corner of the office.

Someone was sitting on the leather sofa. One ankle rested casually over his opposite knee, a silver pen rolling effortlessly between long, familiar fingers. He looked completely relaxed—as though he’d been waiting to spring a trap.

"As I live and breathe," Rhett said lazily, his deep voice dragging over the words. "Dr. Avery Sinclair."

I gasped, my hand flying to my chest. "You scared me."

"I noticed." The corner of his mouth lifted, devoid of any real warmth. His eyes were pitch black, a storm of unadulterated malice swirling within them. "You've always been easy to startle. Runaway tendencies, I suppose."

The jibe hit its mark, but I forced my voice to remain steady. "What are you doing here, Rhett?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He rose from the sofa, his tall, athletic frame instantly dominating the small office. He closed the distance between us with unhurried, predatory confidence until he stood only inches away, trapping me against the edge of my desk. "I heard we were getting a temporary physician." His eyes swept over the folder on my desk, then drifted down the front of my white coat. "I just didn't expect the team to hire a ghost."

"I'm only covering for Lena. I didn't exactly have a choice."

"No?" He leaned a hand on the desk right beside my hip, boxing me in. I was caught in the familiar, intoxicating scent of cedar and clean cologne, his body heat radiating through my clothes. "Funny. You used to be an expert at making choices. Especially when it came to leaving."

"Rhett, please. I'm a medicine physician. I’m here to do a job."

"Right. A doctor." He let out a soft, mocking laugh, his expression turning utterly merciless. "I have to admit, I didn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes out in the hallway just now. What happened, Avery? Did your little boyfriend back in London get boring? Did you get tired of your new family already, or are you just so desperate for attention that you can't stop yourself from throwing your body at any hockey player who smiles at you?"

I flinched as if struck. "What? That's not—"

"Don't bother lying," he snarled quietly, crowding me so closely that his chest pressed firmly against mine. "I saw how you looked at Mason. You're a joke. You put on this brave face, pretending you're a high-and-mighty, happily moved-on professional, but the truth is you're just a fickle, heartless fraud."

I forced myself to meet his piercing gaze, masking my tremor. "If you're worried I can't stay professional, don't be."

"Oh, I'm not worried. You've always been exceptionally good at pretending your feelings don't exist."

The words stole the air from my lungs. My breath hitched, my chest rising to touch his. He noticed immediately. A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips as he saw the flush creeping up my neck.

"There it is," he murmured.

"What?" I whispered, hating how breathless I sounded.

"That look." He leaned closer, tilting his head until his lips brushed against the shell of my ear. His hand slid from the desk to grip the wood right behind my lower back, completely cornering me. "I still get under your skin, don't I, Avery?"

I tried to press back against the desk, but there was nowhere to go. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar," he breathed, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Since you're so eager to play games with the guys on my team, let's streamline the process. Why don't we add a few more duties to your contract? Consider it a way to repent for the past. Be my doctor by day, and my s*x partner by night."

I gasped, my eyes widening, but he didn't back off. If anything, his grip on the desk tightened, his mouth hovering just an inch from my ear.

"Think about it," he whispered, a wicked, bitter edge to his tone. "You already know how to handle my body. And trust me, sweetheart... I’m a hell of a lot better in bed now than I was when you left."

His eyes searched mine for one long, unbearable second, letting the shameless proposition hang heavily between us. Then, just as suddenly as he'd crowded me, he stepped back, slipping the silver pen into his pocket.

The cold air hitting my front made me shudder.

Rhett smiled, a lethal, heartless flash of white teeth. "Let's see how long your professionalism survives working with me every single day. Welcome to the team, Dr. Sinclair."

Without waiting for my answer, he turned and walked out, leaving the door to click shut behind him.

Only then did I realize I was trembling.