Fake Love With The Hockey Prince

Chapter 5

Sky

"Are the rumors about your relationship true? Sky is not your real girlfriend but your real girlfriend is the woman in the photo taken inside your hospital room?"

The entertainment reporter asked Drake straight out, her voice bright and sharp. She wore a smile, but I could see something cunning hiding behind it. It made my skin prickle.

We had no choice but to call this press conference after Drake was discharged from the hospital to clear the rumors. Rumors had exploded across every social media platform overnight, spreading like wildfire. I had no proof, but every fiber of my being told me Cassie was behind it all. She had been interviewed just hours before, and even though she never said clearly that she was Drake’s girlfriend, every answer she gave was carefully worded to make everyone believe exactly that. Listening to her speak, even I found myself doubting for a moment.

"That is not true. My real girlfriend is Sky," Drake answered without hesitation. He turned toward me, wrapped his arm firmly around my shoulders, and pulled me close against his side. His smile was warm and steady, reaching all the way to his eyes. "She is the only woman in my life. Please do not believe these lies made up only to tear us apart. I love Sky so much. We may still be young, but I know we will grow old together."

A shiver ran down my spine. He was not just a star on the ice. He was a brilliant actor. Every word sounded so genuine, so full of feeling, that if I did not know the truth, I would have believed he meant every single one. My heart twisted painfully in my chest.

"You really should have become an actor instead of a hockey player," I whispered, teasing him softly against his ears. "You are better at this than I am."

"Shut up," he breathed back. His voice was low, but cold as ice.

I forced a sweet smile to my lips and turned back to the crowd of reporters. "Please do not believe these baseless rumors. Thank you for your time, and I hope you will continue to support both of us."

"Before you go, can the two of you give us just one kiss?" the same reporter asked, grinning as if she had already caught us out. I knew exactly what she was doing. If we refused, everyone would take it as proof that we were lying. "There is nothing wrong with a small kiss. It is the simplest way to show everyone that your love is real. It will also clear the rumors against the relationship between the two of you."

The smile fell from my face. My stomach twisted with dread. I looked up at Drake, certain he would refuse. He hated this act. He hated being close to me.

But before I could speak to politely reject the reporter, he leaned down at me. He cupped my face in both his hands and pressed his lips to mine. It was not gentle or quick. It was deep, firm, and full of a passion that felt terrifyingly real. For a moment I forgot how to breathe. He held me there long enough for every camera to capture the moment, long enough to make the whole world believe.

He really is too good at this, I thought dizzily as he pulled away.

I forced myself to stay calm, hiding how fast my heart was beating and how warm my face had become. We answered every question thrown our way, keeping our smiles steady until the very last second.

When we finally stepped out of the hall and climbed into Drake’s car, I let out a long, shaky breath. We were finally done pretending for now. Inside his car, my eyes rolled when I saw him pull a tissue from his pocket and wipe his lips hard, as if his lips had touched something dirty.

A sharp hurt shot through me. I felt insulted. Did he think I was dirty?

"What was that for?" I asked, my voice trembling with anger.

"What do you think?" he shot back coldly.

"You act like I wanted that kiss! You were the one who pulled me close. If it were not for your so-called girlfriend—"

"Will you be quiet?" he snapped, turning to glare at me. "Your voice is giving me a headache. And you have no proof Cassie is involved in any of this. Stop making up stories and throwing dirt at other people."

"So you are defending her? Who else would want to ruin us this way?"

"How do I know you did not pay that paparazzi yourself? Even bad news is still news. It is still free publicity for you."

His words cut deeper than any insult. I stared at him, stunned and hurt. I knew he disliked me, but I never guessed he thought I was the kind of person who would use lies and scandal just to get noticed. A heavy sadness settled over me.

"Can the two of you stop arguing?" Drake’s coach spoke up from the front seat, his voice tired but firm. He had ridden with us today while my manager had gone ahead to meet a potential sponsor.

I fell silent immediately and turned to look out the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Drake glance at me again and again. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, something softer, but in the end he only looked away and said nothing at all.

When we reached my house, I opened the door and stepped out quickly. I only said goodbye to Drake's coach. I didn't even bother to look at him. There was no one else around to watch, so there was no reason to pretend to be sweet to him anymore.

That night, I lay awake for hours. I kept asking myself how long I could keep doing this fake relationship with Drake. How long would I have to smile and act as I loved him, when all he gave me in return was coldness and suspicion? How long could I stay close to this arrogant man without breaking apart completely?

I was finally drifting off to sleep when a loud crash rang out from outside.

My heart leaped into my throat. I sat up straight, every nerve ending on fire with fear. I told myself it was probably just a stray cat or a falling branch, but my gut told me otherwise. What if someone was really out there? What if someone had come to hurt me?

Trembling, I slipped out of bed and walked quietly toward the front door. I held my breath and leaned close to the small peephole.

My eyes went wide.

A man stood right outside my door, his back turned toward me. On the ground lay the shattered pieces of a large flower pot. He must have knocked it over by accident. But who was he? Why was he standing there in the dark? And what did he want from me?