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Since my foster father passed away, my foster mother Carlene treated me like a burden she couldn't wait to discard. Fearing I would cling to her biological son-a rising NHL rookie coming home next week-she forced me into a blind date with a sleazy, arrogant finance bro to get rid of me. When he mocked my career and treated me like a cheap toy, I threw a glass of ice water in his face. He violently grabbed my wrist in the restaurant hallway, his fingers digging into my bones. Carlene didn't lift a finger to help. Instead, she glared at me. "Apologize to him right now, or I will throw your bags onto the street tomorrow morning!" After ten years of walking on eggshells in her house, my heart turned completely cold. I had no money, nowhere to go, and realized she would gladly watch me be destroyed just to keep her family pristine. Driven by pure survival instinct, I lunged at a tall stranger walking out of the VIP lounge and desperately claimed he was my boyfriend. I didn't expect him to be Knox Leonard, the billionaire head of Apex Capital and Boston's most untouchable NHL star. And I certainly didn't expect him to wrap his arm around my waist, terrify my abusers, and offer me a two-million-dollar marriage contract.
Contents
Flash Marriage To The Billionaire Hockey Star Chapter 1
Amaya Turner POV:
"Amaya, you've always been a sensible girl, so don't make me regret bringing you here tonight," Carlene Lane said, keeping her voice low with a sharp edge to her tone as I reached our window table at L'Espalier.
I pressed my lips together and smoothed the skirt of my plain black dress.
Ever since my foster father Richard passed away two years ago, my life in the Lane household had gone from warm to suffocating. To Carlene, I was no longer the daughter her husband had loved. I was a threat.
"Why does it have to be tonight, Carlene?" I asked quietly, pulling out the chair across from her. "I just finished my final interview at Vanguard PR this afternoon. I barely had time to change."
"Because Brodie signs his NHL rookie contract in three days and comes home to Boston next week," Carlene said, leaning across the white tablecloth so the neighboring tables wouldn't hear.
"I want you settled and spoken for before my son walks through that front door. Davey Gardner is a rising star in finance. Don't ruin this."
There it was. The real reason she was rushing to marry me off. Because Brodie and I had grown up under the same roof and used to be close, Carlene was terrified I would try to latch onto her golden-boy son now that he was about to become a wealthy pro athlete.
"I've told you a dozen times, I don't think of Brodie like that," I said, swallowing the familiar knot in my throat.
"Save it. Keep your mouth shut, smile, and let Davey take the lead," she snapped, instantly pasting on a bright, fake grin as a man in a loud pinstriped suit swaggered over to our table.
Davey Gardner didn't even wait to be introduced before dropping heavily into the seat beside me. He gave me a slow, lingering look from head to toe-like he was pricing a used car-a sleazy smirk playing on his lips.
"So this is Amaya," Davey said, not bothering to lower his voice. "A little plain, Carlene, just like you warned me. Still, she looks quiet enough."
Carlene chuckled softly, picking up her purse. "She was raised to be obedient, Davey. Now, you two get to know each other. I'm going to step to the powder room and give you some privacy."
She practically fled the table, leaving me trapped.
The second she disappeared, Davey snapped his fingers at the sommelier and ordered a four-hundred-dollar bottle of Bordeaux without asking what I wanted.
When the waiter walked away, Davey leaned back, draping an arm over the back of his chair and twisting the gold Rolex on his wrist.
"Let's not waste each other's time with small talk, sweetheart," Davey said, not even trying to hide his condescension.
"I'm a busy man. The only reason I agreed to meet a foster girl with zero family backing is because Carlene promised to introduce me to Brodie's new NHL sports agent next week."
I stared at him as it all suddenly made sense. "This isn't a date to you. It's a networking favor."
Davey let out a short, nasal laugh.
"Obviously. If I need to get access to pro-hockey money through Brodie's circle, I need a compliant wife on my arm anyway. You get a guy making six figures on State Street, and Carlene gets you out of her house so you can't sink your claws into her son. Everyone wins."
Beneath the tablecloth, my fingers curled tightly into my palms. That was why he wasn't even pretending to be polite. In his mind, I was already bought and paid for-a stray dog Carlene was paying him to take to the pound.
"Carlene also mentioned you're looking for a job in public relations?" he continued, leaning his elbows on the table and looking amused.
"Yes. I interviewed with Vanguard PR today," I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Davey snorted and shook his head. "Forget about it. PR is just playing glorified hostess for rich guys and schmoozing at hotel bars. I'm not having my future wife embarrassing me by sucking up to clients for a living. Once we're engaged, you stay home, cook, and host dinner parties for my clients."
"Mr. Gardner, I think you seriously misunderstand both my career and my interest in marrying you," I said, my voice going flat and cold.
Davey's smile vanished. His eyes narrowed, gleaming with sudden malice. He clearly hadn't expected the "helpless foster girl" to talk back to him.
"Drop the high-and-mighty act, Amaya," he sneered, picking up his water glass.
"Carlene told me everything about you. You've been living off the Lane family's charity since you were ten. You're only acting tough because you're still holding out hope for Brodie, aren't you?"
Just hearing Brodie's name right now made my stomach turn.
"What, still dreaming of becoming a hockey wife?" Davey laughed loudly, drawing stares from the couples at the nearby tables.
"Wake up! NHL players change women faster than they change hockey sticks. Do you really think a rising star like Brodie wants his parents' charity case warming his bed? To guys in that league, a girl with no name and no money is nothing more than a cheap toy to pass the time in the locker room."
My face burned under the whispers and side-eyes from the neighboring tables. Davey leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a nasty hiss.
"Be grateful I'm willing to take Carlene's leftovers off her hands. Marry me, do as you're told, and at least you'll have a roof over your head when she changes the locks next week."
Ten years of biting my tongue under Carlene's roof, ten years of swallowing insults to keep the peace for my late foster father's sake-I finally hit my breaking point.
I stood up so fast my wooden chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor. The surrounding tables went dead silent.
"What the hell are you doing? Sit down!" Davey barked, his face flushing red at the sudden attention.
Before he could blink, I picked up my glass of ice water and threw the entire contents straight into his smug face.
Ice cubes bounced off his nose and clattered onto his silk tie. Water dripped from his gelled hair and chin as he sat there gaping in shock.
"My job isn't playing hostess for rich men, Mr. Gardner," I said clearly, looking down at him in the quiet dining room. "And I'd rather sleep on a park bench in January than share a roof with trash like you."
Davey wiped his eyes and shot to his feet, knocking his napkin to the floor, his face flushing an ugly, blotchy red.
"You crazy bitch!" he roared, sputtering water. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with? I'll make sure Carlene cuts you off without a dime and throws you out on the street tonight!"
For the first time in two years, I could actually breathe. I grabbed my cheap wool coat from the back of the chair, turned my back on his screaming, and marched toward the exit.
Just as I stepped into the dim, carpeted hallway outside the dining room, Carlene rushed out of the restroom, her heels clicking frantically.
"Amaya! Have you lost your mind?" she hissed, stepping into my path with her face twisted in rage. "I heard shouting all the way down the hall! What did you do?"
"I passed on the damaged goods, Carlene. Tell your son's agent to find someone else," I said coldly, moving to brush past her.
Shaking with rage, Carlene raised her hand to slap me. I looked her dead in the eye without flinching, and she hesitated, her hand stopping inches from my cheek.
Before she could speak, heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Davey lunged out of the dining room, his suit soaked and his eyes bloodshot, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip.
"You think you can splash me and walk out of here, you little tramp?" he snarled, yanking me backward. "You're not going anywhere tonight!"
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