Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player Novel CH 98

Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player Novel CH 98

TESSA

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“I want at least seven boys,” he says, puffing up like he’s announcing a noble quest. “A big family where all of us play hockey together. You’re a woman, so you probably wouldn’t get it. But you know the basics of the sport, right? For work?”

(+20

I keep my face carefully blank. Not bored, not angry – just neutral enough not to raise suspicion or, God forbid, ‘embarrass my family‘ by sinking my fork into his thigh.

“Wow,” I say. “Your future wife will be very lucky.”

Dimitri’s smile slicks across his face like oil. I resist the urge to shudder.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he says. “Exceptionally beautiful. When you left Russia, I tried finding someone like you. No one even comes close — not even your cousin. And she acts like she’s twice as pretty.”

I flash him a smile, saccharine and sharp. “I couldn’t agree more. You’ll never find a woman as beautiful as me. Honestly, no man deserves a woman of my beauty.”

lift my glass and take a slow sip of juice. His grin stutters, just for a second.

“Well… humility is beautiful too,” he says.

“You won’t find that feature in me,” I reply, still smiling –

–

sweet as poison.

—

His expression flickers, the first crack in his oily confidence. I glance at my watch again – probably the fifth or sixth time and watch the anxiety bloom on his face. Good.

I’ve done my part. Showed up on time. Didn’t vomit at the sight of breakfast. Endured the conversation. Ignored every veiled insult and every thinly disguised attempt at groping disguised as flattery. Gave him just enough attention to be polite.

I won’t give him a minute more than what was required.

Now, all I want is to lock myself in my room, rip off this suffocating dress, drink until the world blurs, and call in sick tomorrow with a hangover and an “accidental” phone drop in the tub.

“Actually…” Dimitri starts, fumbling as I rise to leave, ready to toss a final goodbye over my shoulder. He practically springs out of his chair like I’ve threatened his inheritance.

“Did you know I own this hotel?” he blurts, scrambling for leverage. “I let Anastasia and Akim use it for their wedding events. A gift.”

I sling my purse over my shoulder and head for the exit without slowing. “How generous,” I say flatly. “Now if you’ll excuse me-”

He grabs my arm. Firm. Possessive. I spin around, snatching it free before he can tighten his grip, but he’s already reaching again.

“I want you to marry me.

I stop – not because I’m flattered, but because I’m stunned enough to forget to slap him. “Is this supposed to move me? You’re not the first man to say that. You won’t be the last.”

His face darkens. “That’s exactly what needs to change. I don’t like other men looking at things I own.”

The word lands like the stap I should have given him. He doesn’t stop.

“It’s probably the way you dress,” he mutters, like I’m a problem he plans to fix. “But it doesn’t matter. Once we’re married, you’ll be too busy raising our sons to be seen by anyone else.”

My jaw tightens. I don’t speak. Not yet. Because if I do, I might end up doing something that will get me arrested I’ll be damned if I lose my job over a man.

–

or lose my job.

“You really think I’m something you own?” I say, voice dropping into something sharp enough to cut glass. “Let me be perfectly clear, Dimitri. You couldn’t afford me even if you sold this hotel, your family name, and whatever’s left of your dignity.”

His mouth opens

–

probably to bluster, or beg

–

but I don’t give him the chance.

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T

3:33 PM P P

Chapter 98

“You talk about sons like they’re trophies, and wives like they’re livestock. And the fact that you think I’d ever carry your children makes me want to bleach my entire reproductive system.”

He recoils like I slapped him. Good. Not nearly enough, but it’ll do for now.

I lean in, just enough for my words to sting in private.

“Touch me again without permission, and I swear to God the next thing you’ll be holding is your own teeth.”

Then I turn on my heel, heels clicking

as

44

I leave him standing there

–

4

stunned, humiliated, and exactly where he belongs.

Five minutes. That’s how long I give it before my mother calls, shrieking about how I’ve “ruined” yet another chance at being someone’s submissive little bride. That I’ll never get married if I can’t romanticize harassment and serve men like tea on a silver tray.

Blah. Blah. Blah..

I make my way toward the lobby, scanning for somewhere to sit before this nauseating swirl in my stomach turns into something publi and humiliating. The nausea started when they served eggs at breakfast Dimitri’s leering face must’ve amplified it into a full–body revolt.

–

I find a bench tucked near a window and lower myself onto it, trying to collect what little remains of my

Just one.

But before I even inhale, a voice slices through the fog.

One deep breath.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, dragging

“T–Taisiya?”

a

hand over my

face

too late.

I freeze. Lower my hands.

Akim stands a few feet away, eyes wide like he’s seen a ghost. He says my name again, louder this time, like he’s not sure or a hallucination from whatever party he crawled out of.

He’s flanked by two men I vaguely recognize wine–fueled family weddings.

if it’s really me

which either makes them his friends or people I’ve kissed at one of those regrettable,

Wonderful.

I don’t bother standing or smiling at them. I might just throw up if I do. “Akim,” I say, voice dry as gin. “Congratulations on the wedding. Truly.”

To my horror, his eyes well up. Tears. Real ones. And just like that, I remember why I dated him in the first place.

He forgets the people trailing behind him and sits beside me like we’re the only two people about to propose all over again.

I’m too stunned or maybe too tired

–

to yank them back.

in

the

Takes

hands in his like he’s

way you

things.”

“Taisiya..“. His voice cracks. “I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Not after.. after the wa

I glance down at our intertwined fingers. Can’t stop my brow from arching.

“Is my cousin okay with this little hand–holding reunion or…?”

He drops my hands like I just told him they were laced with cyanide. His face twists into something between panic and guilt. I laugh. Quiet, bitter.

Men.

Well, I guess that’s what Anastasia gets for drooling after my leftovers.

God, I might actually vomit.

“I’m sorry,” he starts-

“What the fuck is this?”

an

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3:33 PM P P

Chapter 98

O

0

The voice is loud enough to turn heads. I don’t need to look to know who it is.

Dimitri storms toward us, jaw clenched so tight I can practically hear his teeth grinding. His fists ball at his sides, and for a moment, I actually think he’s going to throw a punch.

“Of course,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “Because today wasn’t unbearable enough.”

Akim rises, eyes narrowing. “Dimitri.”

+20

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Dimitri spits, jabbing a finger at him like he’s personally offended by the oxygen Akim dares to inhale. “First you steal her. Then you dump her. And now, on the morning of your own goddamn engagement party, you’re crawling back like a dog.”

“I loved her,” Akim shoots back, voice rising. “She left me. Don’t pretend you’ve ever felt anything more than possession for a woman in your life.”

That does it.

Dimitri lunges.

I step back as the two of them crash into the bench behind us, the clatter drawing gasps from a nearby couple and some old woman with a bejewelled clutch. The men shout, fists flying, wrestling like frat boys at a testosterone convention while I just… blink.

I glance at a startled hotel employee. “I’d call security if I were you. Before one of them starts bleeding on the florals.”

Then I slip away with the exhausted grace of a woman whose tolerance for bullshit has been fully depleted. I make it to the press the button three times like that’ll make it come faster.

elevator,

It’s not until I’m alone inside, mirrored walls reflecting the remnants of chaos clinging to my dress and hair, that the wave passes.

of nausea

I just want my room. A drink. Some silence.

When the elevator dings, I step into the hallway, heels muffled against plush carpet. My suite’s at the end. I pull out my keycard, counting the doors to distract myself from the headache blooming behind my eyes.

One more door.

I turn the handle.

And walk straight into the sound of moaning.

I freeze.

My eyes flick up.

There, tangled in the hotel’s obscenely overpriced sheets, is Lyle and Anastasia.

Akim’s fiancée.

My fucking cousin.

Doing the most enthusiastic impersonation of a porno I’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing live.

I actually let out a snort. Is this a fucking soap opera?

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