My Ex's Rival Has My Heart

the contract

“Absolutely not.”

I said it before Olivia could finish. She stared at me.

“You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need details.”

“You might.”

“No.”

I paced around her apartment that evening while she sat on the couch watching me. The folder sat on the coffee table between us like it had already decided something I hadn’t.

“Fake dating a professional hockey player isn’t normal.”

“Neither is getting paid six figures to photograph one.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

I stopped. “Why me?”

Olivia sighed and leaned forward.

“Because the sponsors don’t want another influencer. They tried that route last year and it blew up when the girl sold stories to three different sites. They want someone believable. Someone who doesn’t already have a following that lives for drama. Someone outside the hockey world who still understands how it works. And someone Nate won’t hate enough to sabotage the whole thing.”

I turned. “Why wouldn’t he hate me?”

Olivia gave me a strange look. “He likes you.”

I laughed. “We’ve known each other for six hours.”

“Apparently that’s enough for him. He told the media director he didn’t want a list of options. He wanted you. Period.”

I stared at her. “This is insane.”

“Probably.”

“But he know I’m Mason’s ex?”

“Yes. The whole department knows. It came up the second your name was floated. Someone even pulled old photos of you and Mason from team events. Nate looked at them and still said he wanted you.”

“And he still wants me?”

Olivia nodded.

I didn’t know why that bothered me more than the money or the cameras. The idea that he had seen those pictures and still put my name at the top of the list felt like standing too close to something I couldn’t name yet. I sat down hard on the other end of the couch.

“What exactly are they asking?”

She handed me the folder. I opened it. Six weeks. Public appearances. Team events. Charity functions. Interviews. Photographs. Social media posts that looked natural enough to pass. No physical intimacy required. No private relationship. Just enough to make the public believe Nate Callahan had finally settled down.

At the bottom was the payment. I stared at the number. It was more than I’d made in the last year combined. Enough to cover rent for a long time. Enough to stop checking my bank account like it might disappear.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You need the money.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You’ve been late on rent twice.”

I glared at her.

She raised both hands.

“Okay. You don’t need it. You could just enjoy being broke and photographing screaming babies until the studio lease runs out.”

I closed the folder, but my fingers stayed on the cover.

“What happens if I say no?”

“They find someone else. Probably someone who already knows how to smile for cameras and doesn’t care if it looks real.”

“And Nate?”

“He loses several endorsements. Maybe more if the sponsors decide he’s too much of a risk to keep carrying.”

I looked away. That shouldn’t matter to me. It didn’t. Except I remembered what he’d said at the facility. Don’t let them turn you into someone you’re not. The way he’d looked at me when he said it, like he meant it more for himself than for the campaign.

I looked back at Olivia. “What does Nate get out of this?”

“His sponsors stay. His image softens. The board stops breathing down the coaching staff’s necks.”

“That’s it?”

She hesitated.

“What?”

“He also wants you.”

My heart skipped once, hard.

“For the campaign?”

Olivia shook her head.

“No. He specifically asked for you before the girlfriend idea even came up. The PR team floated a list of possible women after the sponsors pushed. Nate shut it down and said if they were going to force a relationship angle, it had to be you. He told them he’d refuse anyone else.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. And that’s what worries me. You’re his PR manager’s best friend and even I can’t get a straight answer out of him about it.”

“You’re his PR manager?”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m telling you something I’ve never seen before.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Nate Callahan doesn’t usually ask for anything. He shows up, does the minimum, and leaves. He doesn’t request people. He doesn’t negotiate terms. He doesn’t care enough to. Until you walked into that facility with a camera.”

I swallowed.

“Maybe he’s just desperate.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he saw something in those old photographs and decided he wanted the person who took them standing next to him instead of behind the lens.”

I looked at the contract again. Six weeks. Six weeks of pretending to be someone’s girlfriend. Six weeks of cameras and questions and people watching every time we stood too close. Six weeks of hockey. Six weeks of being close enough to Mason’s world to prove I had moved on—or close enough to prove I hadn’t.

Then I saw one final clause near the bottom of the last page. The relationship must remain exclusive for the duration of the campaign. No public appearances with other romantic partners. No contradictory social media activity. Any breach could void the agreement and the payment.

I laughed once, short and sharp. “Of course. Because nothing says ‘believable’ like a contract that tells you who you’re allowed to look at.”

Olivia smiled, but it was careful. “So?”

I looked at the contract. Then at her. “Six weeks.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying I’ll consider it. I want to talk to him first. Alone. No media directors. No sponsors. Just him. If he can’t give me a better reason than ‘I asked for her,’ I’m walking.”

She grabbed her phone anyway. “That’s a yes in PR language.”

“Olivia.”

Too late. She was already typing. My phone buzzed almost immediately. A message appeared.

Nate Callahan: So, we’re doing this? I stared at the screen. I hadn’t even given him my number. I looked at Olivia. She was suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

“You gave him my number.”

“I might have forwarded the media contact sheet.”

“Olivia.”

“He asked. And you were going to say yes anyway.”

My fingers moved before I could stop them.

Me: Apparently.

His reply came almost instantly.

Good. Then another message. I was hoping you’d say yes.

I stared at those words for a long time. Something about them made my stomach flutter. And I really, really didn’t like that. Because this was supposed to be fake. And Nate Callahan already sounded like he hadn’t gotten that memo.