Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
That was the headline we'd wanted. If only I’d known the cost to get it.
Aleksander Suter has been my best friend since high school—and the only man who’s ever been able to truly get under my skin. With his reputation for trouble and a smirk that could melt ice, he’s also the NHL’s favorite bad boy.
When my publicist’s plan to fix my image collides with his need to clean up his own, we find ourselves in a fake engagement that feels too real from the start.
Now, I’m releasing my new album, putting on a show for the paparazzi I usually try to dodge, and falling too fast for a man who never falls for anyone. Every stolen glance, every heated touch blurs the lines between us until I’m wondering where the lies end and the truth begins.
And when a hurricane traps us together in his high-rise condo, all my carefully built walls collapse, and resisting the pull between us becomes a losing game.
Suddenly, the stakes are higher than just headlines, and the risks feel more personal than ever.
But as our past resurfaces and old feelings reignite, I realize the biggest risk isn’t losing my career—it’s losing my heart to the one person I thought would never be mine
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
The Charade
Aleks
She wanted to hit me.
I wanted to kiss her.
That was how it had always been with us.
“This is just… great. Just fucking perfect,” Mia said, throwing her hands up in disbelief before she sank down into my giant bean bag with a huff. As soon as she realized where she was sitting, she hopped up with a frustrated growl before stomping over to the couch, instead.
She hated that fucking thing, thought it was childish and likely had some assumptions about what she thought had taken place on it. Usually, I found her disgust with it hilarious.
But nothing was funny in this moment.
She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head.
“What am I going to do?”
I didn’t mind seeing her flustered in most cases because I was most often the culprit getting under her skin. Ruffling her feathers was one of my favorite pastimes, if only to see that fire within her spark to life. But in this instance, I hated it, because she was upset over something I had no control over.
Under normal circumstances, I’d toss a smart-ass remark at her and smirk as that perfect mouth of hers gaped open at me, as her cheeks turned red and that little vein in her forehead popped. I knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to make rage pour through that normally put-together woman.
But right now, that side of me I always kept tied up in the basement of my cold, dead heart was thrashing, urging me to go to her, to pull her into me, to hold her and find a way to make it right.
I kicked that motherfucker hard enough to knock him out, snuffing the lights and reminding him why he was locked away in the first place.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in a silky curtain as I took the seat next to her. I hovered one hand over her slender back before I carefully, slowly, rubbed it. “I’m sorry.”
Mia froze under my touch.
There it was again, that shock of electricity between us, that zap of heat I felt any time my body made contact with hers.
But just when I thought she might melt into that touch, Mia yanked away, uncovering her face so she could properly glare at me. Those sharp blue eyes of hers narrowed into slits. “Well, you should be. This is all your fault.”
And just like that, we were back to sparring.
“My fault?” I gaped at her, smirking even with my mouth open because I wanted her to feel as ridiculous as she was being. “Mia, it’s a fucking hurricane. What the hell am I supposed to do about it?”
“You’re the whole reason I’m here instead of in New York to begin with. I’m doing all this to save your ass! And now I have to cancel a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden.”
The truth of that seemed to hit her full force, her face going white.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered, burying her face again. “I have to cancel a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden.”
Any desire I did have to comfort her was receding now, held at bay by her accusation. “Saving my ass,” I repeated, tonguing my cheek. “So, this is all about me suddenly? I’m the big bad wolf and you’re just doing this to be a little saint, huh? Nothing at all in it for you?”
“Oh, shut up,” she spat, shoving me away. I barely budged.
“Because I’m pretty sure this was your publicist’s idea,” I reminded her.
“Well, your agent is the one who made me come here for your stupid game!”
“Made you?” I stood, jaw tight. “You are a woman with free will, Mia. In case you forgot. No one can make you do anything.”
She looked up at me then, her eyes softer, something in the relaxing of her jaw telling me I’d struck a nerve without trying. She was a woman of free will, yes — but she was also a pop star puppet, her strings being pulled by an entire team she paid to keep her career skyrocketing.
That softening in her reminded me so much of when we were younger that I had a hard time taking my next breath.
For a split second, we were both eighteen again.
She was begging me to kiss her.
I was begging her not to let me.
I knew even then that we were wrong for each other.
I knew even then that we’d break each other’s hearts if we ever tried to be more than friends.
“Whatever,” she said after a moment. The word was resigned, not laced with any sort of edge, and that upset me more than if she’d screamed it.
I could handle her yelling at me.
I couldn’t handle knowing I’d hurt her — even with all the practice I’d had over the years.
She sniffed, waving her hand in the air like I was one of the people paid to wait on her. “Do you at least have some tequila or something?”