Contracted To The Beast

CHAPTER 1: NIA

My phone wouldn’t shut up.

I sat in my car outside Rogers Arena, engine still ticking as it cooled, and stared at the screen. The video had hit two million views in four hours.

Maddox Kane—Vancouver Vipers captain, six-foot-five and built like a problem, flipping a hotel table hard enough to shatter glass everywhere. His face twisted in that same cold fury I remembered from chem class years ago. The Beast, they called him now. Back then we just called him an asshole.

I killed the clip and dropped my phone in the cup holder. My hands were shaking. 

Not from the wind whipping off the Pacific, but from the text Mom sent right after: Clinic rent due again. Zara asked about the big hockey man on TV. Love you.

I was here for them. That was it. A job. A fresh start. Whatever Maddox Kane was now, it had nothing to do with me.

I grabbed my duffel, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the March chill. The side entrance smelled like wet concrete and hot dogs from the concessions. My new Vipers polo itched against my neck. First day. Dream job. Head physiotherapist for an NHL team. I should’ve been buzzing. Instead my stomach was in knots.

Jamie, the perky assistant who met me at security, didn’t even let me catch my breath. “Dr. Page—Nia, welcome! Owner wants you straight to the physio suite. Kane took a dirty hit in yesterday’s optional skate. Shoulder’s barking. Coach Riggs is already yelling about tomorrow’s game against Calgary.”

Of course it was Kane.

I followed her down the concrete tunnel, sneakers squeaking, the distant smack of pucks and guys shouting on the ice echoing like a heartbeat. My pulse matched it.

Just treat the shoulder. Professional. Polite. Get out. I’d survived worse than seeing an old bully again. I’d raised his secret daughter alone, for God’s sake.

Jamie pushed open the physio suite door. Bright lights. Menthol rubs in the air. One padded table in the center.

There he was.

Maddox Kane sat shirtless on the edge, elbows on his knees, dark hair damp and messy from the shower. Broad shoulders carved from years of throwing bodies into the boards. Tattoos snarled down thick arms, shattered ice, roaring beasts, the same ink I used to stare at in the cafeteria when he wasn’t looking. Steel-gray eyes lifted the second I walked in.

The air left the room.

My steps locked. For one stupid heartbeat everything stopped. Those eyes. That sharp jaw. The same cocky tilt to his mouth that used to clear hallways in high school. Recognition slammed into me so hard my bag slipped an inch down my shoulder.

It was him.

The boy who’d tripped my books in the hall for laughs. The one who’d cornered me at Ryan’s graduation party, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me like the world was ending.

only to disappear the next morning with a single text: Don’t get ideas. You were a distraction.

I’d stared at that message for hours back then. Read it until the words stopped making sense. And somehow, it still stung. Now he was my patient.

Jamie cleared her throat. “Maddox Kane, meet Dr. Nia Page, our new head physio. She’ll sort that shoulder.”

He didn’t move. Just stared. His brows pulled together slightly, like something wasn’t sitting right. Like he almost recognized me but not quite.

My pulse climbed into my throat.

Don’t…Don’t you dare remember me now.

Then the moment slipped. His expression smoothed out, that same lazy, dangerous smirk sliding back into place like nothing ever cracked.

“Well, shit,” he drawled, voice rough. “Nia Page. Small world.”

My mouth went dry. I forced my legs forward and dropped the duffel on the counter with a loud thud. “Small world? That’s what you’re going with?”

He leaned back on his palms, muscles flexing across his chest. “Figured you’d changed your last name or something. Page, huh? Still sounds the same when I say it.”

Heat crawled up my neck. I snapped on a pair of gloves, the latex loud in the quiet room. “Let’s see the shoulder. The shirt's already off…convenient.”

His laugh came out short and dark. “Always this sweet on day one, Doc?”

“Only when my first patient is trending for trashing a hotel room before I’ve even clocked in.” I stepped between his spread knees, close enough to smell soap and the faint metallic chill of the rink still clinging to his skin. My hands found his left shoulder—hot, swollen under my fingertips. Professional. Detached. Except my pulse was hammering like I’d just taken a slapshot to the chest.

He watched me, gray eyes tracking every move. “Heard you ripped my playing style on that podcast last month. Called it ‘self-destructive.’ Cute.”

I pressed my thumb into the joint, feeling the tightness. He didn’t flinch. “Self-destructive is polite. Reckless fits better. You’re one bad check away from blowing this rotator cuff for good.”

“Bench me and the whole team loses.” His free hand suddenly caught my wrist, not hard, but enough to stop the motion. Heat shot straight up my arm. “Vipers don’t bench the Beast, sweetheart.”

I yanked my wrist free and grabbed the ultrasound gel. “Call me sweetheart again and I’ll make sure you sit out the entire playoffs.”

His smirk widened, but something sharper behind it. “Still got that mouth. I remember that much.”

I squeezed cold gel across his shoulder. He hissed through his teeth. Good. I turned the machine on, the low hum filling the silence while I pressed the wand to his skin, eyes on the screen. Tears, swelling, nothing major.

“You’re lucky,” I muttered. “Just inflammation. Ice, rest, and the exercises I’m writing down. No hero crap tomorrow or you’ll be watching from the press box.”

He rolled his shoulder once, testing it, then leaned in closer. His breath brushed my temple. “You talk like you know me, Page.”

I kept my face blank, but inside my stomach flipped.

I do know you. I know exactly how you sound when your walls crack. I know what your hands feel like when they’re not taped up. I wiped the gel off with quick, angry strokes.

“I know the type. Billionaire kid who thinks the rules don’t apply. Bully in high school, bully on the ice. Same guy.”

His jaw tightened. For the first time the smirk faltered. “High school was a long time ago.”

“Almost six years,” I shot back, stepping away and peeling off the gloves. My cheeks burned. I hated that nearly six years, he could still get under my skin like this. “Long enough for some people to grow up. Apparently not you.”

Maddox stood slowly, towering over me. The overhead lights carved shadows across every inch of muscle and ink. He looked even bigger up close. Dangerous. And annoyingly beautiful.

“You grew up nice, though,” he said, voice dropping. “Real nice. Almost didn’t recognize you with the ponytail and the attitude.”

My heart slammed. I busied myself packing my bag so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “Flattery won’t get you cleared for tomorrow’s game.”

He grabbed his shirt off the hook and tugged it over his head in one smooth motion. The fabric stretched tight across his chest. “Wasn’t flattery. Was an observation.”

I zipped the duffel hard enough to make the sound echo. “Observation noted. Keep the tape dry. I’ll check you after morning skate.”

He didn’t move toward the door. Just watched me, gray eyes narrowed like he was still trying to solve a puzzle. “Nia Page. Physio for the Vipers. Funny how life works.”

“Funny,” I repeated, flat. “Or cursed.”

Before he could answer, my phone buzzed on the counter. Loud. Insistent. I glanced down. Unknown number, but the preview made my stomach drop.

Owner’s office. Immediately. Bring Kane. It’s Urgent.—Marcus Hale

Maddox’s phone lit up at the same second. He read it, then looked at me. That cocky smirk was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Looks like the cleanup crew just got called in,” he said, voice edged with something I couldn’t read. “After you, Doc.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out first, his heavy footsteps right behind me. The corridor felt narrower, the fluorescent lights harsher. Every step echoed with the same question burning in my chest.

Why the hell is the boy who broke me years ago suddenly the man I’m stuck fixing?

Why did the thought of walking into that owner’s office with him, not just for one appointment, but for whatever fresh disaster waited behind that closed door, make me want to run as fast as my legs would carry me… while something twisted and hot in my stomach whispered that running was already too late?

The owner’s office door loomed at the end of the hall. Closed. Waiting.

Whatever was behind that door wasn’t just about the team. I could feel it.

Something had shifted the second I walked into that room with him.

Whatever came next—it wasn’t going to let either of us walk away clean.

CHAPTER 2: NIA

The owner’s office smelled like expensive leather and bad decisions.

I walked in first, Maddox’s heavy footsteps right behind me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Marcus Hale sat behind a massive desk, silver hair slicked back, suit crisp even at this hour. Coach Riggs leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. The big window behind them showed the empty arena seats, dark and waiting for tomorrow’s chaos.

“Close the door,” Hale said without looking up from the tablet in his hands.

I shut it. The click sounded too loud.

Maddox dropped into the chair beside me like he owned the place. His knee brushed mine for half a second. I jerked away. He noticed. Of course he did. That smug half-smirk tugged at his mouth again.

Hale finally set the tablet down and pinned us both with a stare that could freeze the Pacific. “Kane, your little hotel tantrum just cost us three major sponsors who are now ‘re-evaluating their partnership with the Beast.’ The league office called. They’re not happy. Playoffs start in two weeks. We need you on the ice, not in headlines for the wrong reasons.”

Maddox leaned back, legs spread wide. “I handled the guy who ran his mouth about my family. Problem solved.”

“Problem created,” Hale snapped. “Social media is eating you alive. Unstable. Anger issues. ‘Bad for the brand.’ We need damage control. Fast.”

Coach Riggs rubbed his jaw. “Kid, you’re our captain. But right now you’re a liability.”

I sat there trying to look invisible, hands folded tight in my lap. This wasn’t my fight. I was just the new physio who’d taped his shoulder thirty minutes ago. Except Hale’s eyes slid to me next.

“Dr. Page. Nia. Glad you could join us.”

My stomach flipped. “Mr. Hale.”

He tapped the tablet again. “Your background check came back clean. Top of your field. No scandals. Strong work ethic. Exactly the kind of steady image we need right now.”

I didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit.

Hale leaned forward. ““Here’s what’s going to happen,” Hale said. “Kane, you’re getting a girlfriend. Effective immediately.”

Silence hit the room.

“Not a model. Not an influencer. Someone clean. Someone credible.” His gaze slid to me. “Someone like Dr. Nia Page.”

Maddox’s head snapped toward me so fast I felt the air move. “Wait. Her?”

The way he said it like I was the worst possible option, it lit a fire under my ribs. I turned to face him. “Got a problem with that, Kane?”

His gray eyes locked on mine. Up close like this, under the office lights, they looked stormier than on the ice.

“You hate my guts. You said so yourself in the suite. How the hell is that supposed to look real?”

“Because it’s fake,” Hale cut in, voice flat. “That’s the point. No one has to believe you’re soulmates. They just have to see you behaving. Smiling. Not destroying hotel rooms or calling out your own captain on podcasts.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I called out reckless play. Not him personally.”

Maddox snorted. “Sounded pretty personal to me, Page.”

Coach Riggs sighed like a tired dad. “Enough. Nia, the team will compensate you generously. Double your salary for the six months. Plus a bonus at the end if the narrative holds. You live in one of the team condos; same building as Kane for optics. Attend ten to twelve public events together. Post couple content. Keep it clean and believable.”

Double my salary. The words hit like a slapshot. Mom’s clinic. Zara’s preschool. Rent that never seemed to end. I could fix so much with that money.

But Maddox Kane? Pretending to date the guy who made me feel small… stupid… forgettable?

The one who walked away like I meant nothing—while I was left carrying consequences he never even knew existed?

No. Hell no.

I shook my head. “I’m a physiotherapist, not an actress. Find someone else.”

Hale didn’t blink. “We already looked. You’re the best fit. Clean record. No exes in the media. And frankly, the tension between you two already looks like chemistry to anyone who doesn’t know better.”

Maddox laughed, low and bitter. “Chemistry? She wants to tape my mouth shut, not kiss it.”

I shot him a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”

His eyes darkened. Something shifted in the air between us, thick, charged, the same stupid spark I’d felt when my hands were on his bare shoulder earlier. I hated it. Hated how my body remembered things my brain had tried to bury.

Hale slid two copies of a thick contract across the desk. “Six months. Starting today. Rules are simple: live in the same building, appear together at required events, no scandals, no sleeping with other people in public. Break it and the deal collapses, Kane sits, and you, Dr. Page, lose the bonus and face possible breach consequences. Sign, and we announce the ‘new relationship’ tomorrow after the game.”

I stared at the papers. Black ink. Legalese. My future balanced on a fake smile with the worst mistake of my teenage years.

Maddox picked up his copy and flipped through it like it was a takeout menu. “No,” Maddox said flatly. “Not happening.”

Hale didn’t even blink. “Then you sit the first round.”

That landed. Hard.

Maddox went still.

“Then you sit the first round of playoffs,” Hale said calmly. “Your choice, Beast.”

Maddox’s jaw flexed. For the first time the cocky mask slipped. I saw the flicker, fear of losing the ice, the team, the one thing that made sense in his messed-up world. The same fear that used to hide behind his bullying back in high school.

He looked at me. Really looked. “You need the money?”

The question landed soft but heavy. I thought of Zara’s gray eyes—his eyes—laughing while she asked about the “big hockey man” on TV who is her favorite player. I thought of Mom’s tired voice on our last call.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I do.”

Maddox watched me for another long beat. Then he grabbed a pen, scrawled his name across the bottom like he was signing his own death warrant, and slid the contract back.

“Your turn, Page.”

My hand shook when I picked up the pen. The metal felt cold. Every instinct screamed to run. But double the salary. Security. A chance to finally breathe.

My hand hovered for a second too long.

This wasn’t just a contract. It was a mistake waiting to happen.

Still—I signed.

Hale took the papers with a satisfied nod. “Smart. Now go home, both of you. Tomorrow after the game we’ll stage the first public sighting. Keep it light. Smile. Touch. Sell it.”

Coach Riggs pushed off the wall. “And Kane, keep that shoulder loose. We need you to hit, not hurt.”

The meeting ended as fast as it started. I stood on shaky legs, clutching my bag like a shield. Maddox rose beside me, so close his arm brushed mine. Electricity shot through the contact. I stepped away fast.

In the hallway he caught my elbow, spinning me gently but firmly to face him. The corridor was empty, lights buzzing overhead.

“Six months, huh?” His voice was rough, quieter than in the office. “You really gonna pretend you don’t want to kill me every time we’re in the same room?”

I yanked my arm free. “I spent almost Six years pretending you didn’t exist,” I said quietly. “Don’t expect six months to suddenly make me forget why. Six more months won’t kill me.”

His smirk returned, but it looked forced. “We’ll see about that, Doc. First rule of fake dating, don’t fall for the act.”

I laughed, sharp and humorless. “Trust me, Kane. Falling for you is the last thing on my mind.”

But as I walked away, his footsteps echoing behind me again, my skin still tingled where he’d touched me. And deep down, in the part of me that remembered a stolen kiss against a basement wall, a tiny treacherous voice whispered that six months suddenly felt way too long… and not nearly long enough.

I didn’t look back.

But when I reached my car in the staff lot, my phone buzzed with a new text from an unknown number.

This is Maddox. Saved your contact. We need to talk about living arrangements. Tonight. My place. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.

I stared at the screen until the words blurred.

Zara was waiting at home with the nanny. My secret. His daughter from our one-night stand, drunk sex I’m sure he didn’t remember. The one thing that could blow this whole fake-dating nightmare and career apart before it even started.

I deleted the text.

Then I typed back two words that felt like stepping onto thin ice.

Send it.

CHAPTER 3: MADDOX

“Have you sent the address yet?”

I hit send and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Rain hammered the roof of the Rover like it was trying to break in. The underground garage felt too damn quiet after the shitshow in Hale’s office. My taped shoulder still burned, but that wasn’t what had my pulse kicking.

Her reply came fast.

Send it.

Short. Cold. Typical Nia Page.

I typed the building address and hit send, then leaned back, staring at the concrete ceiling. Nearly six years. Six fucking years since that night in high school, and the moment she walked into the physio suite with her ponytail and those steady hands, everything slammed back.

She looked good. Too good. Athletic build that said she actually worked for it, subtle curves filling out the Vipers polo, long wavy chestnut hair fighting to escape the band, warm hazel eyes that still sparked with fire. Natural glow. No fake shit. Just strong, beautiful, and clearly done with my bullshit.

And she still hated me. I could feel it.

Her car pulled in behind mine. I climbed out, rain soaking my shirt in seconds. She stepped out slowly, duffel slung over her shoulder, phone already glued to her hand like armor.

“You came,” I said, voice low over the rain.

“Didn’t have much choice after signing that damn contract.” She locked her car and adjusted the strap. “Let’s handle the logistics tonight. I need to get home after.”

I grabbed her duffel before she could stop me, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder. “My place is on twenty. Yours is two floors down. Team’s paying for both. Come on.”

We rode the elevator in silence. Her citrus scent mixed with rain and tape, filling the small space. I kept my eyes on the numbers, but I caught her glancing at her phone every few seconds, thumbs flying across the screen. Typing. Pausing. Typing again. A little frown creased her brow—careful, like she was explaining something important without giving too much away.

Curious as hell, but I didn’t ask. Not my business. Not yet.

The elevator dinged on my floor. I unlocked the penthouse and flipped on the lights. Rain streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights blurring beyond.

Nia stepped inside, still typing. She sent one last message, silenced the phone, and set it face-down on the kitchen island.

“My mom knows I’m pulling a late night for the new job,” she said, voice steady but a little tight. “Told her I’m coordinating with the captain on some physio stuff. She gets it, clinic hours are crazy too. Also Just texting the nanny quickly. Making sure Zara's settled for the night.”

I slid a bottle of water across the island to her. “Kid at home?”

She took the water but didn’t open it. She went a little stiff before continuing, voice steady but careful. “Yeah… Four and a half... Nanny’s handling bedtime.”

Wait… what?

Four and a half.

Nia didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there like it was normal. Like it wasn’t the kind of detail people usually led with.

“Didn’t think you had time for that,” I said, voice quieter now.

One shoulder lifted. “I make time.”

My brows pulled together slightly. “That wasn’t something you just dropped into conversation, especially not when you were about to fake-date an NHL captain for six months.”

“Hale know about that?” I asked.

Her eyes snapped to mine. “No.”

A beat.

“And he doesn’t need to.”

Something in her tone made it clear—conversation over.

Which meant someone had been in her life long enough to matter.

And for some reason… I didn’t like that.

Yeah.

This arrangement just got messier than Hale thought.

I nodded, not pushing. Part of me wanted to ask more, who the hell she was texting so carefully, what her life looked like now but I bit it back. I didn’t go deep. Not with her. Not when six months of fake smiles stretched ahead like a penalty box I couldn’t escape.

Instead I leaned on the counter, watching her. “You married? Boyfriend waiting at home who’s gonna lose his shit when he sees you on every screen holding hands with the popular hockey captain?”

Her hazel eyes flicked up, sharp. “No husband. No boyfriend. And even if there was, he’d have to deal with it. This is a job. Your fans can get as wild as they want, I’m not here to play house for real.”

I smirked, but it felt forced. “Good. Because the second the announcement drops tomorrow after the game, my phone’s gonna blow up. Fans love drama. They’ll ship it hard or tear it apart. Hale’s probably already briefing my old man about the whole image fix. He loves controlling narratives.”

Nia crossed her arms, leaning against the island. The ponytail had loosened a bit from the rain, a few wavy strands framing her face. She looked tired but steady, strong shoulders, subtle curves under the polo, that natural glow that didn’t need makeup. Beautiful in a way that made the old high-school memories feel sharper.

My phone buzzed on the counter. Bella’s name flashed on the screen.

I ignored it at first, but it rang again immediately. I answered on speaker without thinking, setting it down so I could grab another water.

“What?” I said.

Bella’s voice came through sharp and pissed. “Maddox, what the hell is this I’m hearing? Hale just called my father. You’re doing a fake dating thing with some random team physio? Why didn’t you use me? We could’ve made it look real. Your father wants the merger. This is perfect timing and you’re throwing it away on some nobody?”

Nia’s eyes widened slightly, but she stayed quiet, watching me.

I rubbed my jaw. “It’s not my call, Bella. Owner picked her. Clean image. No drama. Exactly what the sponsors want right now.”

“Clean image?” Bella laughed, bitter. “I’m the one who knows you. I’m the one who’s been there through your father’s bullshit. And now you’re parading some physiotherapist around like she’s your girlfriend while I sit on the sidelines? Call Hale back. Fix this. Or I’ll come over and remind you why we work.”

Nia’s jaw tightened. She picked up her phone again, thumbs moving fast like she was checking on her kid or sending one more message to whoever was waiting.

I kept my voice even. “It’s done, Bella. Six months. Stay out of it. And don’t show up here tonight.”

Bella’s voice rose. “This isn’t over, Maddox. Your father will hear about this. He still wants us aligned. Don’t think some random woman changes that.”

The call ended with a click.

I set the phone down and looked at Nia. She was staring at her own screen, typing one last quick message before pocketing it.

“Girlfriend problems?” she asked, voice dry.

“Ex,” I said “Something like that.” I watched her carefully. The way she kept checking her phone, the careful wording when she mentioned her mom and the nanny, it all screamed responsibilities she wasn’t sharing. Curiosity gnawed at me, but I shoved it down. Asking would open doors I didn’t want open.

“She’s pissed Hale didn’t pick her. Thinks she could sell the couple thing better because of the family pressure. My old man probably already knows about the contract. He loves this kind of control.”

Nia nodded once, pushing off the island. “Sounds messy. But that’s your mess. Mine is making sure this looks believable without blowing up my real life. I’ll head down to my condo now. Text me the details for tomorrow’s sighting after the game. Light. Casual. No big scenes.”

I grabbed her duffel and walked her to the door anyway. The hallway felt quieter than usual, rain still tapping the windows. In the elevator down two floors she stayed on her phone for a second, sending what looked like a final check-in, then slipped it away.

At her door I handed over the bag. “One more thing. Whatever you’ve got going on at home, handle it quietly. Fans will go wild seeing the Beast with someone new. They’ll dig. Don’t give them anything real to find.”

“Don’t act like you’re easy to read, Kane,” she said.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

She met my eyes, hazel steady but tired. “I know how to protect what’s mine, Maddox. Goodnight.”

The door clicked shut between us.

I stood there a beat longer, rain echoing in the hall. Nia Page. Strong, beautiful, carrying secrets in every careful text she sent. The girl I’d ghosted because she made me feel too much was now the woman I had to fake-date for six months.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket.

This time it wasn’t Bella.

Heard about the new physio hire. Nia Page? After all these years… we should catch up, big brother. I never stopped thinking about her. — Beck

I stared at the screen, something tight settling low in my chest.

Beck.

My little brother, the one who used to trail after Nia in high school like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

I never stopped thinking about her.

My grip on the phone tightened. Yeah, I remembered.

Didn’t like it then.

Didn’t like it now.

Six months of pretending she was mine—while my brother was suddenly back in the picture?

This wasn’t just complicated anymore. It was about to get messy.

The elevator dinged behind me as I turned back toward the stairs.

This fake-dating contract had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

CHAPTER 4: NIA

The next day flew by in a blur of ice, sweat, and barely-contained panic.

It was still early when my phone lit up on the nightstand in the team condo. Maddox—saved as “Mad Dog” because I needed the reminder not to soften.

Come back up. Need to go over the script before the announcement drops. Hale just texted, it’s happening at the team lounge right after the game. Bring whatever you’re wearing. We leave at twenty.

Twenty minutes. No time to drive home. No time to kiss Zara good morning or explain why Mommy might be on TV tonight. Or why I wasn’t home last night.

I typed back: On my way.

The elevator ride up felt endless. When I reached his door I knocked once, hard.

It swung open.

Maddox stood there shirtless, towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair onto his chest. My mouth went dry before I could stop it. Broad shoulders, carved abs, that sharp V disappearing beneath white terrycloth. He looked like every dirty fantasy I’d tried to forget since high school.

Those gray eyes locked on mine, and for one stupid second I remembered the way his hands had felt on my waist that night six years ago, rough and desperate, like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

He noticed me staring. Of course he did.

“Eyes up here, Page,” he said, voice rough with that cocky edge I hated. But there was heat in it too. “Shower ran longer than I planned. Give me two minutes to throw clothes on and we’ll head out.”

I forced my gaze to his face. “We’re going out now?”

“Driver’s pulling up soon. Paparazzi already camped outside the garage. Hale wants the first sighting leaked before the official announcement after the game. We smile, we touch, we sell it. Then I drop you back here. Your car stays for now—the team will handle it.”

He stepped aside. I walked in, trying not to notice the way the towel clung to his hips or the fresh scent of his soap. My pulse hammered. This was fake. All of it. But my body hadn’t gotten the memo.

Maddox disappeared into the bedroom. Drawers opened, fabric rustled. When he came back he was in dark jeans and a black button-down, sleeves rolled up over those inked forearms. Still barefoot. Still dangerous.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, throat tight. “Let’s get this over with.”

The private elevator took us down to the garage. A sleek black SUV waited, driver already behind the wheel. Maddox opened the back door for me like a perfect fake boyfriend, his hand brushing my lower back as I slid in. The touch burned through my shirt.

Paparazzi flashes exploded the second the SUV rolled out. Cameras pressed against the tinted windows. Shouts of “Maddox! Who’s the girl?” and “Beast got a new one!” echoed behind us.

Maddox leaned back, thigh brushing mine. “Smile for the cameras, Doc. After the game the whole league sees us together.”

By the time the final buzzer sounded on a 4-2 win, my nerves were shredded. I changed into the simple black dress the team stylist had dropped off and waited in the players’ lounge, heart racing. Cameras were already set up. Reporters milled around. Coach Riggs kept glancing at his watch.

Maddox emerged from the locker room in a dark button-down and jeans, hair still damp, looking every inch the billionaire hockey prince. His steel-gray eyes found me immediately. Something hot and possessive flickered when he took in the dress.

Coach Riggs clapped his hands. “Let’s make this quick and clean. Smile, look happy, sell the story. Kane—keep the Beast on a leash.”

The press conference started. Lights flashed. Microphones thrust forward.

Hale stepped up first. “After recent events, we’re thrilled to announce that our captain, Maddox Kane, has entered a relationship with Dr. Nia Page, our new head physiotherapist. We believe this marks a positive new chapter for the team and for Maddox personally.”

The room erupted with questions.

Maddox’s hand found the small of my back, warm and steady. I forced a smile, leaning into him. His thumb brushed my spine once, slow, deliberate. Heat pooled low in my belly despite everything.

Then Coach Riggs caught Maddox’s eye and gave a subtle hand signal, two fingers tapping his lips, then pointing at me.

Maddox didn’t hesitate.

Before I could process what was happening, he turned me toward him, one big hand cupping my jaw. His gray eyes darkened, locking on mine with an intensity that stole my breath.

Then he kissed me.

Right there. On live camera. In front of the entire press corps.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t planned, at least not by me.

His mouth crashed into mine—hot, firm, and completely unexpected.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was possession.

My breath caught as my body reacted before my brain could catch up, leaning into him like it remembered something I’d tried to forget. The cameras flashed wildly around us but for one second, it felt like it was just us.

This wasn’t part of the deal.

And the worst part?

My body didn’t care.

The room exploded with flashes and cheers.

I pulled back, dazed, lips tingling. My cheeks burned. Maddox’s eyes were dark, breathing a little rough as he rested his forehead against mine for half a second.

“I had to make it believable,” he murmured, voice rough against my ear. “Coach’s orders.”

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kiss him again. The conflicting emotions made my head spin.

The press went wild.

“First kiss on camera! The Beast is in love!”

“Dr. Page, any comment?”

I forced another smile, fingers digging into Maddox’s arm. “We’re… taking it one day at a time.”

Maddox’s hand stayed possessively on my waist as we answered a few more questions. Every touch felt electric. Every glance from him sent sparks racing across my skin. I was supposed to hate him. Instead I was fighting the insane urge to drag him somewhere private and finish what that kiss had started.

The moment the press conference ended, my phone exploded.

Official Vipers account: Welcome to the family, Nia Page. The Beast has found his match. #VipersForever #KaneAndPage

Then the gossip sites. Twitter. Instagram.

Comments flooded in so fast my phone couldn’t keep up.

THE BEAST IS OFF THE MARKET???

She’s the new physio?? This is ICONIC.

Wait… isn’t that the girl who called him reckless on that podcast? Enemies to lovers arc loading.

Mom’s call came first.

“Nia Evelyn Page.” Her voice cracked with shock and something close to laughter. “You’re dating Maddox Kane? The same boy who used to make your life hell in high school… Honey, what is happening? Does he know?”

“I can explain,” I whispered, glancing at Maddox. He was watching me, gray eyes dark.

Before I could say more, my college best friend Natalie was calling. “You’re kidding me. The rival? The bully? Nia, are you okay? Do I need to come over with wine and a bat?”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. “It’s… complicated. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The high-school group chat exploded next.

Girl. MADDOX KANE??? The one who used to knock your books out of your hands???

Tell me this is fake news.

Wait… you always said he was hot when he wasn’t being an asshole.

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number, but the preview made my stomach drop.

Beck Kane: Got your number from the team directory. I couldn't believe it when I saw the announcement and that kiss. Nia… we really need to talk. Soon.

I locked the screen.

Maddox appeared at my side, his hand sliding around my waist like it belonged there. “Driver’s waiting. Let’s get out of here before they swarm us.”

We slipped out a side exit. The black SUV pulled up. Paparazzi flashes exploded as Maddox guided me inside, his body shielding mine. The door slammed shut and the car sped off.

Inside the quiet cabin, the air felt too thick. Maddox’s thigh pressed against mine. His fingers brushed my knee once, casual but deliberate.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low. “That kiss wasn’t planned. The coach signaled at the last second. I had to sell it.”

I turned to look at him. His gray eyes were dark, still heated from the kiss. For one moment I let myself feel it, the yearning, the shock, the dangerous pull that had never really died.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But it worked. The news is everywhere now.”

My phone buzzed again. This time it was the nanny.

Zara just saw the kiss on TV. She’s asking why Mommy is kissing her favorite hockey player. She’s so excited. What do I tell her?

My heart clenched so hard it hurt.

Maddox noticed my expression change. “Everything alright?”

I forced a nod, locking the screen before he could see. “Just… a lot at once.”

He watched me for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he leaned closer, voice dropping. “Six months, Nia. We’re in this now. “Whatever you’re hiding, Nia… it won’t stay buried forever.”

The SUV rolled through the rain-slicked streets, city lights streaking past the windows.

I stared at my reflection in the glass, lips still tingling from his kiss, heart racing from the secret that was already cracking wide open.

Mom was demanding answers.

Friends who remembered the old rivalry were texting nonstop.

And Beck—sweet, steady Beck had just reached out after years of silence.

One unplanned kiss on live television, and the carefully built walls around my life were starting to crumble.

Maddox squeezed my hand, gray eyes meeting mine in the dark cabin.

For one heartbeat, I almost believed the smile he gave me was real.

Then my phone vibrated again, a new message from the nanny.

Zara just saw you on TV. She keeps asking why you were kissing the hockey man.

My stomach dropped.

Maddox had no idea what he’d just stepped into.

And neither did I.

CHAPTER 5: MADDOX

"Hell...Dammit!"

My fingers wouldn’t stop gripping the steering wheel. Every few seconds I caught myself pressing harder, like I could squeeze the memory of her out of my hands. That kiss. Nia’s mouth had been soft and warm, tasting like citrus and cherry gloss. Nothing like the girls from high school. Nothing like what I expected after all these years.

“Fuck.”

Coach had lost his damn mind putting us in that position. I yanked the wheel and pulled into the driveway of my building. No way I was going back to the condo tonight. We ain't playing couples tonight since the paparazzi's ain't here to snoop.

Not with the dirty shit running through my head—her small back under my palm, the way she leaned into me, the little sound she made when our lips met. If I saw her right now, I wouldn’t stop at a kiss.

I had my driver drop her at the arena so she could take her own car home. Smart move. Safe move.

The night air hit me cold when I stepped out. Rain had been coming and going all week, leaving everything wet. I grabbed my coat and duffle bag, muscles still tight from the game and everything after.

“Evening, Mr. Kane,” the valet said.

I tossed him the keys without a word. Couldn’t speak if I tried. My mind was too loud.

The building rose above me, all glass and black marble. Floor-to-ceiling windows caught the city lights and threw them back. Sparse plants and bright flowers lined the walkway. I’d paid good money for this place because it felt like mine, high up, private, away from the noise. Tonight it barely registered. I just wanted to get inside and scrub the day off my skin.

I took the private elevator straight to my floor. The doors opened right into the apartment. Same black marble walls, same huge windows. Burgundy and navy furniture broke up the darkness. It usually settled me. Not tonight.

I headed straight for the shower and cranked the cold water. The first blast hit my back like needles. I planted both hands on the tile wall and let it pound down my spine, over my shoulders, down to my knees. Water ran through my dark hair and into my eyes. I hoped it would wash away her taste. Her smell. The way her body had fit against mine for those few seconds.

It didn’t.

I stayed under the spray until my skin went numb. When I finally stepped out, I shook the water from my hair like a damn dog. A towel hung low on my hips as I walked into the bedroom, still dripping.

“You’re acting like a dog,” a familiar voice said with a soft laugh.

I spun around. Bella stretched across my bed in a tight scarlet red dress that barely covered anything. Her long legs crossed at the ankles, those red-bottom Christian Louboutin heels catching the light. Blonde hair fell in perfect beachy waves over her shoulders. She looked expensive. Dangerous.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” I snarled.

She smiled like I’d said something cute and slid off the bed, hips swaying as she came toward me. “That attitude is why they call you the Beast, baby.”

“How did you get in?”

Bella tilted her head, all innocent blue eyes. “You gave me the passcode, silly. Don’t you remember?” She reached out and traced a water droplet running down the tattoo on my chest with one long manicured nail.

I smacked her hand away. “Leave. Now.”

Her smile faltered for half a second, then sharpened. “How dare you?” She stepped closer, icy eyes locking on mine. “Is it because of that… skank?”

“Don’t ever call her that again.” I grabbed her wrist and started pulling her toward the door, through the bedroom and into the living room.

Bella dug her heels in, smacking my bare chest with her free hand. “You’re defending her? You’re not even dating the girl and you’re already taking her side? You’ve never taken my side. Not once!”

“Don’t test me, Bella.”

She yanked against my grip, eyes turning stormy. “Take your finger out of my face. She isn’t even here and you’re this worked up. “Interesting. You’ve never looked this distracted after leaving my bed.”

Before I could answer, she dropped to her knees right there in the middle of the room. Her hands went for the towel.

“Bella,” I warned, voice low.

“Let me, baby,” she whispered, voice sweet like honey over broken glass. She tugged the towel free and took me into her mouth in one smooth motion.

Heat shot up my spine. My eyes rolled back before I could stop them. She felt warm and wet, tongue working me like she knew every trick I liked. I wrapped her shiny blonde hair around my fist and held on as she bobbed deeper, gagging softly when I hit the back of her throat.

“Just like that,” I muttered, hips moving on their own. “Keep going.”

She pulled back just enough to stroke me with her hand, lips shiny and red. “You like that, Daddy?”

“Less talking.” I yanked her hair harder and thrust into her mouth, fucking her face with short, rough strokes. Saliva dripped down her chin. Tears smeared her mascara, but she didn’t pull away. She took it, moaning around my cock like she lived for this.

After a minute I dragged her up and pushed her toward the couch. “Get on it. Face down.”

Bella obeyed fast, ass up, dress riding so high she might as well have been naked. No underwear. I smacked her ass hard twice. The sound cracked through the room and she moaned loud, pushing back against me like a bitch in heat.

I left her there long enough to grab lube and a condom from the bedroom. I wasn’t stupid enough to trust her with just the pill.

Back on the couch, I poured cold lube over her ass and rubbed it down to her pussy with rough fingers. She shivered and whimpered my name. I lined up and slammed into her in one thrust, no warning.

“Maddox!” she screamed.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Each word came with a hard thrust. I shoved her face down into the cushion, muffling her cries as I pounded into her. Her fake tits bounced under my hand when I grabbed one. Her heels dug into my thighs. The wet slap of skin filled the room along with her choked moans.

“I bet this is how you screamed for him,” I growled, anger and lust twisting together. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between thrusts, tears soaking the cushion. “He wasn’t this good. That’s why I came back, Daddy.”

The words hit like ice water. The heat in my gut turned sour. Everything felt wrong, like resentment and regret. I pulled out fast, chest heaving.

This wasn’t it. Not even close. No spark. No pull. No… her.

Nia hadn’t tried and still wrecked me more than this.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Mad—”

“Out.” My voice came out flat and venomous.

Bella stood on shaky legs, dress twisted, makeup ruined, lipstick smeared across her cheek. For a second she looked small and hurt, eyes wide like I’d broken her heart. Then the mask slipped and pure bitch flashed in her stare. She grabbed her purse, tossed her hair, and walked out without another word. The door clicked shut behind her.

“Fuck.”

I ripped the condom off, wrapped the towel back around my waist, and went to the bar. Poured two fingers of whiskey, neat. The burn felt good as I carried the glass to the huge window. Outside, light drizzle turned into steady rain, streaks running down the glass.

I stepped onto the balcony, rain cool on my bare shoulders. The city skyline blurred in the downpour. My mind wouldn’t shut up. Nia’s kiss had been warm. Real. Her body pressed against mine felt like something I could hold onto. Sex with Bella had been cold and hollow, even while I was buried inside her. Just another way to scratch an itch that never got satisfied.

“Damn Nia and that kiss,” I said out loud to the rain.

I paced the wet balcony, whiskey glass tight in my hand. The more I thought about her, the clearer it got. She wasn’t like Bella. She didn’t play games or drop to her knees to win fights. She tasted like cherry gloss and second chances, and that scared the shit out of me.

My phone rang sharp and loud from inside. I went back in, water dripping off me onto the floor.

“Father,” I answered, voice flat.

“You’ve embarrassed me again, Maddox.” His tone cut like broken glass. No hello. No bullshit.

“I’m sor—”

“Save it. We’re having a family dinner this weekend. You will be there. No excuses.” He hung up before I could say another word.

“Shit.”

My father didn’t ask. He commanded. Always had.

I set the phone down and stared at the rain again. My family was a different kind of poison. Old money, old expectations, old secrets that could destroy people.

I’d kept Nia away from that world so far. After today—after that kiss, I needed to make damn sure it stayed that way.

Whatever mess I had with Bella, whatever rage sat coiled in my chest, whatever games my father was already setting into motion… none of it touched her.

It wouldn’t.

This was a contract. Six months. Clean. Controlled. Temporary.

No feelings. No complications. No space for anything real.

Just an arrangement to fix my image and get me through playoffs.

That’s all it was. That’s all it would ever be.

I didn’t do attachment. Didn’t do soft. Didn’t do anything that could be used against me.

Nia Page was part of the deal—nothing more.

And I’d keep it that way. Because the smartest move right now?

Was staying the hell away from her.

A clean line. No crossing it. No blurring it.

Simple. Controlled and Safe.

My jaw tightened as I stared out into the rain.

Yeah.

That’s what I should do.

Too bad I’d never been that kind of man.