FAKE DATING MY EX'S RIVAL HOCKEY STAR

PUNISHMENT

MIA'S POV

"Where are you coming from?"

The deep voice cut through the silence like a blade. Ryan stepped out from the shadowed alcove near the grand staircase, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He wore a black compression shirt that clung to his chest and a white vest stretched tight over powerful arms. A sweat-dampened headband held back his dark hair. His green eyes locked on me, hard and unyielding.

I froze mid-step, the cool morning air suddenly thick in my lungs. My heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted out.

I swallowed, my throat desert-dry. My sneakers dangled from one hand, my bare feet cold against the marble floor.

"I-I was at the hospital late last night," I stammered. "So I..."

"That's not what I asked." His tone was ice. He took one lazy step forward, then another, closing the distance with deliberate calm that somehow felt more dangerous than shouting. He wasn't smiling. God, he was angry at me.

I clutched my shoes tighter, the laces biting into my palm. Dammit. The plan had been simple: slip inside, creep up to the guest room Kate had shown me yesterday, and pretend I had been there all night. Instead, here I was, caught like a teenager sneaking back after curfew.

Ryan stopped just two feet away. Sweat still glistened on his jawline. He must have come from a run or the gym. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with clean male sweat drifted toward me, and I hated how aware I was of it.

"Do you have any idea how many times I called you?" His voice dropped lower, rough with something raw.

"I... my phone was on silent at the hospital..."

"Do you know what I imagined?" He took another step. His eyes flashed. "That Logan had found you. That something had happened. That you were lying somewhere hurt, or worse."

The words hit like a physical blow. For a split second, the cold mask cracked. Real fear, sharp and unguarded flickered across his face. Then it vanished. He straightened, jaw tight again.

"Instead, you breached the contract."

My stomach twisted. The contract. The money for Mom’s treatment. My brother’s school fees. Everything hung on those pages I had signed. I licked my lips nervously, trying to find words that wouldn’t make this worse.

"You’re licking your lips again," he said, voice quieter now but no less intense. His gaze dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second. Heat flooded my cheeks.

"I am not..." I started, then bolted past him, trying to be bold despite the storm around, bare feet slapping against the cool floor.

"Where are you going?" His hand didn’t grab me, but his voice stopped me cold. "We’re not done here, Mia."

I halted, shoulders rigid. My pulse thundered in my ears. I could feel him behind me, the heat of his body cutting through the morning chill.

"I told you to call me when you were done at the hospital," he continued, each word measured. "I would have come for you. But you chose this."

I turned slowly. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, studying me like I was the only thing in the entire mansion. The early sunlight caught the damp strands of hair at his temples. God, he looked unfairly good, strong, intense, and far too close.

"It was only one night," I whispered, gathering what little strength I had left. "I slept at Sophie’s. It’s not..."

"You signed the contract." He moved closer. Close enough that I could see the faint pulse beating in his neck. "You sealed the rules with your name. One night is still a breach."

I inhaled sharply. His scent wrapped around me, sweat, cologne, something uniquely him. My fingers tightened on my shoes until my knuckles ached.

"Do you want me to breach my part of the agreement?" he asked softly. The threat hung heavy between us.

"No." The word flew out, desperate. "No, please."

That money wasn’t optional. Mom’s next round of treatment loomed. My brother needed rent, school fees, stability. I couldn’t risk it.

Ryan watched me for a long moment. Something pained crossed his eyes again before he buried it. He reached out, slow and deliberate and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my left ear. His fingertips brushed my skin. Warmth exploded from the point of contact, racing down my neck. I closed my eyes for half a second, hating how my body betrayed me.

"Then you’ll have to be punished," he said.

My eyes snapped open. "What? You can’t be serious."

"It’s that, or I breach the contract." His smirk was small, dangerous.

I nodded quickly, pulse racing. "Fine. I’ll wash clothes. I’ll clean the entire house. I’ll cook every meal. Just tell me what to do."

He shook his head, the movement sharp. The headband shifted slightly. "If I needed staff, Mia, I wouldn’t have come to you."

"Kate!" he called suddenly.

The click of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate appeared, composed as always, carrying a folder. She handed it to Ryan with a neutral expression, but I caught the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth, like she was fighting back a smile. She had worked for him for years. She knew him. And something in her eyes said she had already figured out exactly what this was.

Ryan took the papers and stepped back, putting a sliver of breathing room between us.

"From now on," he said, handing me the documents, "your punishment is to work as my PR manager."

I stared at the papers, then at him. "You can’t be serious."

"Dead serious."

"I’ve never been a PR manager in my life!" The words burst out.

"I haven't even finished my course." My hands shook. "Ryan, I would ruin your career. I don’t have the training. I don’t know the league politics, the sponsors, the..."

"You scheduled Logan’s practices," he cut in, voice steady but intense. "You reminded him about sponsor obligations when he forgot. You planned his meals down to the gram because he’d eat garbage otherwise. You kept him on schedule. You answered his emails. You monitored his training logs. You made sure he showed up where he needed to be. You handled his training sessions."

He leaned in slightly, green eyes burning into mine. "Tell me again you aren’t qualified."

The air left my lungs. He had seen everything. All those hours, I had helped Logan, the late nights making sure Logan didn’t throw away his shot. Ryan had noticed. He had remembered.

I opened my mouth, closed it. Heat prickled behind my eyes.

"Wow," Ryan murmured, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Don’t tell me you’re scared for me now."

The teasing tone didn’t hide the warmth underneath. My cheeks burned hotter.

"Prepare yourself, Mia. You’re my PR manager starting today, or I breach the contract." He laughed softly, a low, rumbling sound that did dangerous things to my insides, then turned and jogged up the stairs, leaving me standing there, papers trembling in my grip.

"Get ready," he called over his shoulder. "We’re introducing you to the coaches this morning."

I stood frozen, staring after him. The mansion felt too big, too quiet. Kate lingered a moment longer. She didn’t say anything, but that small, knowing smile finally broke through, just for a second before she schooled her features back to professional calm.

"Congratulations on the new role, Miss Mia," she said gently, but her eyes sparkled with something like amusement. Like she had just watched her famously rule-bound boss bend every rule he had for one woman.

Mr. Hayes is gone, her expression seemed to say.

I barely registered her leaving.

PR manager?

The words echoed in my head like a siren. I had lied my way into Ryan Hayes’ mansion under the pretense of a fake girlfriend. Now I was supposed to manage the public image and career of the biggest hockey captain in the country. The man whose green eyes saw too much. The man whose touch still lingered on my ear. The man I absolutely out of my league as Logan said last night.

God…

What had I gotten myself into?