The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) Gina Azzi (series like harry potter TXT) 📖

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” I clear my head.

“You just made a face.” He points at me, his expression growing serious. “You know we need to show that we’re a real couple, a couple in love, in order for you to sponsor me. We have to get married, take pictures, have a celebration, live together, and document it all. You’re going to be my wife, Rielle,” Torsten says slowly.

“Your wife,” I repeat, a little dazed by the term. It slams into me like a grenade, blowing up the life I’ve been grinding for up until this point. All of my worries, about the loans, about my rent, about buying another super pack of ramen noodles, are going to cease to exist. They won’t even register on my radar.

A flame of panic burns through me for a second. The water I’ve been treading grows choppy and a few waves slap me in the face. Because holy shit, I’m going to marry a professional hockey player who has enough money to pay off my loan. Enough money to take my freedom, curtail my choices, control me.

I jump from the chair and begin to pace. For some strange reason, my reaction causes Torsten to relax even more. Was he waiting for an emotional outburst? Was he worried by how calmly I was taking it all?

Maybe he should be.

Because he is a man with money and means. I grew up raised in a circle of men like that and none of them turned out to be as trustworthy, as honest, as decent as they pretended. Sure, they looked the part, they even acted it, but away from prying eyes and whispering mouths, lurked something a hell of a lot more sinister.

Torsten’s presence, his huge frame coupled with his larger-than-life personality draw my attention. My heart rate hammers and my breathing accelerates as his gaze holds mine. Ice blue to charcoal black. His gaze is heated, his expression intense. I feel drawn to him, a moth to a flame, a damaged soul to a compassionate one.

The next realization rolls over me like a tidal wave. I like Torsten Hansen. I have real feelings for him. Maybe they’re shallow ones but given enough time, given the circumstances, they could grow into a black hole, one that swallows me up completely. My breathing stutters in my chest and I dig the heel of my hand to the center of my breastbone.

Torsten catches the movement and concern rings his irises. He leans forward in his chair, ready to spring into action if I need him.

And I do. I have. For five years, I didn’t rely on anyone but myself until now. Until him.

“Torsten, I can’t live with you.”

“What? Why not?”

I draw in a shaky breath. “I, well, for starters, I could never afford half your rent.” I grasp at straws, especially since he already informed me he was taking over all the financial aspects of our life together.

At that, he tosses his head back and laughs. It’s a deep, rumbly laugh. One that starts in his stomach and causes his chest to vibrate. It makes goosebumps break out on my skin and my stomach clench because it’s also the sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard in my life.

And Torsten Hansen, with his golden hair and brilliant blue eyes, with his muscled torso and his strong shoulders, looks incredibly sexy doing it.

I freeze. Watching Torsten laugh, I realize my assumptions are correct. Marrying him isn’t a problem at all. It’s the extricating myself from our marriage that’s going to destroy me.

“We need boundaries,” I blurt out.

“Boundaries?” he repeats, wiping the tears from his eyes.

I nod and continue my pacing. He watches me with amusement that unsettles me further.

“For example, I’ll need my own bedroom.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees, sobering when he notes how serious I am.

I force myself to sit back down but push the pancakes away. Tucking my hair behind my ears, I let out a shaky breath and ask the question that’s tearing me up the most. “What about dating?”

Torsten’s amusement slips away entirely.

The gravity of what we’re agreeing to smacks us both in the face. Of course he’d be concerned about dating. He’s an NHL legend with legions of fans and a female following that rivals his male worshippers. For me, it’s a non-issue. I don’t date. I have one-night stands with no promises, no goodbyes, and absolutely no emotions involved.

He clears his throat. “Tell me what you’re thinking. What you want?”

I tap my fingertips against my lips. I think about us living together, about women with toned bodies and long, blonde hair flouncing out of his bedroom in the morning, giving me a pitying look. My chest squeezes painfully. I hate the idea of Torsten with other women. Not that I can tell him that. Instead, I settle on a safe, logical objection. “I don’t want to look stupid. I mean, if we’re married and you’re out and—”

“It won’t happen,” he cuts me off. “We have to do this the right way or not at all.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “You’re going to marry me for two years and forgo sex?”

He stares at me for a long moment. His gaze searching, his eyes hard. “I’ll be faithful to you, Ri. I won’t step out on you. You won’t find yourself in any compromising situations. When I give my word, I mean it. I’m taking vows and even though it’s not for the right reasons, we’ll be husband and wife.”

Surprise rushes through me. I fall into the bottomless pools of Torsten’s eyes. He’s serious. My fingers tremble at the intensity in his expression, my heart rate spikes at the truth in his voice. My entire body tightens and hums with an awareness, an approval, that is too hard to ignore.

We’ll be husband and wife.

I smile at him. He smiles back. And my world tilts a little bit on its axis, making me question everything I thought I knew about Torsten Hansen, Hawks heartbreaker and perpetual bachelor.

I force my attention