Faking it with the Grumpy NHL Alpha

CHAPTER 006

*FAMILY TIES*

Flora's POV

My eyes flew open, and immediately I regretted it. A hammer seemed to be pounding directly against my skull, each throb sending sharp spikes of pain through my temples. The room spun lazily as I tried to sit up, my mouth tasting like something had died in it. What the hell happened?

I blinked hard, trying to focus. Lucille was sprawled on the floor beside the bed like a discarded rag doll, one arm flung over her face, snoring softly. Our clothes were scattered everywhere—my red blouse from last night draped over a lamp, Lucille’s jeans in a heap by the door, random socks and underwear forming a chaotic trail across the carpet. The suite looked like a tornado had hit it.

I had zero memory of how we got back here.

Groaning, I stumbled to my feet and barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach rebelled. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, retching violently until there was nothing left but bile and regret. When it finally stopped, I sat back against the cool tiles, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“What… happened?” I muttered, scratching my head as I pulled myself up. Bits and pieces started flickering back—the lounge, the vodka, Megan’s smug face…

Then it hit me all at once, like a slapshot to the chest.

“Tell you what,” Megan had said, sounding absolutely rude. “I’ll make you a little bet.” She paused for a moment. “Seduce qmy brother. Get him to kiss you and publicly announce you as his girlfriend before the end of the Seven Days match. If you win, you get the car back. But if you fail…” she paused, shooting me a killer look. “you'll apologise to me publicly, and also announce that you were never good enough for Sean while spending one night with whoever I choose for you.”

I’d turned back, fire in my veins and vodka fueling my stupidity. My eyes gleaming with drunken resolve. “Deal.” The word had come out bold, reckless. “Better clean up my car. I’ll be getting it soon.”

The rest of the night blurred into chaos after that—more drinks, Lucille hyping me up, dancing badly, yelling about revenge. But the deal… oh god, the deal.

“NO. NO. NO.” I staggered out of the bathroom and started tapping my head repeatedly against the cupboard in front of me, each thud echoing my growing horror. “No, no, no, no—”

I was about to smack my forehead against it for the umpteenth time when a soft palm stopped me mid-motion.

Lucille. She’d somehow woken up and was now standing there, bleary-eyed, her hand gently blocking me. Her breath still reeked of alcohol.

“How could you?” I whirled on her, eyes wide with accusation.

“How could I what?” Lucille asked, rubbing her own temple with a wince. She looked as wrecked as I felt.

I grabbed her by both shoulders, shaking her slightly. “How could you let me make a stupid deal like that? Seduce her brother? In seven days? What the hell was I thinking?”

“Whoaaa, slow down, tiger.” Lucille pried my hands off gently, holding them up in surrender. “I’m not the one who marched back there like a tipsy warrior princess and shook on it. You were on a whole mission after that second round of shots.”

“What are we gonna do now?” I groaned, sliding down to sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.

“WE? Girl, that’s ‘you’,” Lucille teased, a sarcastic grin breaking through her hangover haze. I shot her a killer look that could melt ice. She threw her hands up. “Just kidding! It’s we. Ride or die, remember?”

“Come to think of it though…” Lucille continued, plopping down beside me. “Who the hell is her brother? Did she even say his name?”

We both sat there, dumbfounded. I realized with sinking dread that I had no idea. In my rage and drunken confidence, I hadn’t even asked.

I grabbed my phone and pulled up Sean’s i********:. My stomach twisted as I clicked the first video—him and Megan smiling like love-struck frogs at some event. I tapped on her tagged account.

“Thabadbitch…” Lucille read aloud, peeping over my shoulder with a snort. “What a corny name. The girl is really committed to her shit.”

We scrolled for what felt like hours, but Megan’s feed was nothing but polished selfies, luxury hauls, and vague couple shots with Sean. Not a single picture of any brother, no family posts. Nothing.

“This is hopeless,” I muttered finally, tossing the phone onto the bed. “I’m fucked.”

“No, you’re not,” Lucille said, surprisingly optimistic as she stood and stretched. “It’s just the first day out of seven. We’ll figure this out. But for now, if we don’t wanna miss the game, we’d better shower and clean up. You look like you got hit by a Truck.”

I glanced at the time. “s**t. It’s 1 PM already? The game’s starting soon!”

We rushed through showers and threw on fresh clothes as quick as we could. We made it to the stadium just as the whistle blew for the start of Hershey Bears versus GoldenKnight. .

The arena was electric, the crowd roaring as the players took the ice. The commentators’ voices boomed over the speakers, filling the air with excitement.

“Welcome back, hockey fans, to another thrilling matchup here in Chicago! It’s the Hershey Bears taking on the Golden Knight Grizzlies in what promises to be a high-stakes showdown. The Bears are coming off a strong season, led by none other than the Devil on Ice himself, Tyler Sinclair!”

My eyes locked onto the ice. Tyler was out there, moving like water. His white jersey clung to his massive body as he skated, the tattoo on his left arm flashing under the bright lights every time he raised his stick or checked an opponent. He was playing incredibly—fast, brutal, completely in control.

Sean was there too, the bastard, gliding across the ice with that same cocky confidence that used to make my heart flutter. Now it just made me want to throw something.

The game intensified. “Sinclair steals the puck again—look at that speed! He’s breaking away, fending off two Grizzlies defenders like they’re nothing. What a display of dominance from the Bears’ Captain!”

Tyler slammed into an opponent, sending him sprawling, then passed sharply to a teammate. The crowd erupted.

“Is it just me or does Tyler look absolutely familiar?” Lucille muttered beside me, squinting hard at the ice.

I waved it off, too focused on the action. “Well, his face is all over Chicago. Billboards, ads… you know how it is.”

“No, that’s not it,” Lucille insisted, leaning forward and straining her eyes. “Something’s different. I can’t place it.”

She picked up her phone and started scrolling, but I stayed glued to the game. It was winding down, tension thick in the final minutes. Tyler had the puck again, weaving through defenders with terrifying precision.

The commentator’s voice rose with excitement. “Sinclair’s on a breakaway! Time ticking down—this could be the game-winner! Bears fans, hold your breath!”

The countdown echoed through the arena.

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Tyler unleashed a powerful shot. The puck flew straight into the net.

The buzzer blared.

The crowd exploded.

“Flora!” Lucille shouted, grabbing my head and jerking it toward her phone screen. “You’ve got to see this!”

My eyes widened, throat going dry as I stared at the old i********: post from Tyler Sinclair’s profile. The date was two years ago. It showed Tyler with what looked like his parents, another guy, and—the most shocking part—Megan. All of them smiling together at what appeared to be a family dinner.

Captioned, “Dinner with my family.”

The brother Megan was talking about was TYLER FREAKING SINCLAIR!.