Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 73

LIAM

Is this what people mean by saved by the bell?

Because in no universe do I want to talk about what Jess means to me right now. Not with

Emilia. Not when I can’t even explain the dark, ugly feeling that sank its claws into my chest

the second I saw that headline. The second Emilia broke down in my arms.

Like there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to make whoever wrote that article pay.

And they will pay. Even if it’s the last thing I do.

I push off the bed and grab the chocolate–stained containers from Emilia’s hands. I can’t help but smirk. She eats like a chipmunk, cheeks puffed, a little smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. The sight makes something tight in my chest loosen just a little.

Knock. Knock.

The sound cuts through the room. Again. I can already feel a headache coming. Hopefully, the intruder will realise they’re really not wanted and turn back around or whatever.

I sigh. “How about you go wash up? I’ll get the door.”

She nods, looking almost relieved that she doesn’t have to face anyone. My chest squeezes at the defeated expression on her face, the way her shoulders slump as she turns away. I watch her disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her, before heading to the

entrance.

Knock. Knock, Knock.

Jesus Christ. Has whoever’s on the other side never heard of patience?

I yank the door open, irritation sparking hot in my veins. “Will you stop already? The fuck is your prob-”

My words die in my throat.

My mood sours so fast I barely hold back a scowl. My grip on the doorknob tightens, every instinct screaming to slam it shut in his stupid, smug face.

But I don’t.

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Chapter 73

Because as much as it kills me-

This is his wedding cruise, after all.

For whatever reason, Zane seems genuinely surprised by my being here and that fuels my annoyance even more. “What are you doing here?”

My brain bursts into a billion little pieces.

What am I–her boyfriend (fake, sure, but still boyfriend), the guy literally sharing this suite with her–doing here?

He’s got to be joking.

I cross my arms and step out into the hallway, shutting the door firmly behind me. No way in hell am I letting him catch even a glimpse of her.

After everything he’s done? He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air she does. And if I’m

being honest, I’d be more than happy to arrange for him not breathing at all.

“I’m in my suite. With my girlfriend.” I don’t bother hiding the edge in my voice, the quiet

dare in my tone. “What do you mean, what am I doing here?”

Zane’s jaw tightens. A dark look flickers across his face. “You can’t really-”

It’s in the way he watches me, the way he tries to mimic the way I move, both on and off ice, the way he hangs onto my words like they’re gospel. He doesn’t just hate that Emilia’s with me–he hates that I’m the one person he’ll never be.

And God, that must drive him insane.

“Listen, Calloway, I respect you, we both know that, but it’ll be best if you stay away from this. Stay away from Emilia.”

I dart out my tongue, and it slides against my lower lip. Zane’s eyes follow the movement and I always snort. Fucking loser.

“Stay away from her? She’s mine, Whitmoore.” We’re practically face–to–face now. It’s my job to protect my woman,” something amusing crosses my mind and I shake my head. “Does your wife–to–be know you’re here?”

He flexes his fingers. “What I do is none of her concern. I raise a single brow. Really? “But she’ll understand. Emilia will never survive this without me. I’m simply doing her a favour.”

I lean against the doorframme, deliberately relaxed, like I couldn’t care less about whatever he thinks is so important. “Here’s the thing,” I say, voice easy, almost bored. She doesn’t need you, Zane. She never did. That’s just the story you keep telling yourself so you can sleep at night.”

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His nostrils flare, but I don’t give him a chance to respond.

“And if you really think I’m about to let you anywhere near her after what you pulled?

You’re even dumber than I thought.” I grin, all teeth. “So why don’t you do us both a favour and turn around before I decide to remind you exactly why I don’t like you?”

At the sound of heels against the floor, we both look up at the newcomers and freeze in our tracks. For completely different reasons.

Becca and a petite red–head walk up to us. The former has a pained look in her eyes. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

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