Page 21 of The Hockey Contract

"I didn't," he admitted. "It just... seemed like you."

Our fingers brushed as I removed the ring from its box, a fleeting touch that sent an unexpected jolt through me. My breath hitched slightly as I slipped it onto my finger, finding that it fit perfectly.

"How did you know my size?" I asked, admiring how the morning light caught the diamonds.

"Leo checked your social media for photos that showed your hands," Jax explained, looking slightly embarrassed. "We wanted to get it right."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that—impressed by the thoroughness or uncomfortable with the investigation into my life. Perhaps both.

"Well, it's perfect," I said, still staring at the ring. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He cleared his throat. "I'll see you at the ceremony, then."

"See you at the ceremony," I echoed, the words surreal on my tongue.

As I walked back to the bakery, I kept glancing at the ring on my finger, the weight of it unfamiliar yet somehow grounding. This was really happening. In a few days, I would be Sienna Harrison, at least on paper. The thought sent a complicated mix of emotions swirling through me—anxiety, uncertainty, and something else I wasn't ready to examine too closely.

Just three months, I reminded myself firmly. I could handle living with Jax for that long. I could handle pretending to be in love with him. The challenging part would be remembering it wasn't real—especially when he looked at me with those intense eyes, or when his hand rested on my lower back, or when he called me "sweetheart" in that deep voice that seemed to resonate in my bones.

Business, I thought firmly, turning the ring on my finger. This is just business.

But as I reached the bakery, I began wondering, if this was purely business, why couldn't I stop smiling at the sight of the ring he'd chosen so perfectly for me?

Chapter 8: Jax

The image of Sienna sliding that ring onto her finger played on repeat in my mind as I drove home. There had been something unexpectedly satisfying about seeing my ring on her hand—a primal, possessive feeling I hadn't anticipated and definitely didn't welcome.

"It's just business," I muttered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "A mutually beneficial arrangement."

But the memory lingered, her small fingers, the slight tremble as she slipped on the ring, the way it had glinted under the courthouse lights. Perfect fit. Something about that felt significant in a way I couldn't—or wouldn't—articulate.

When I pulled into my driveway, three unfamiliar cars were parked outside my house. For a moment, I considered driving away. The last thing I needed was more people in my space, scrutinizing my life. I'd had enough of that at the courthouse.

Inside, I found a cleaning crew bustling around my usually silent home. A woman with a clipboard approached me immediately.

"Mr. Harrison, we're almost finished with the reorganization. We've cleared half the closet space in the master bedroom as requested, and we're preparing the guest room as a secondary option per Ms. Olivia's instructions."

I frowned. "Ms. Olivia?"

"Your endorsement manager?" The woman's concerned look bordered on incredulous, as if Olivia managing my personal life was the most natural thing in the world. "She was very specific about making space for your... new wife." She said the last two words with a slight lift of her eyebrows.

"Right. Of course." I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly feeling like a stranger in my own house. They'd moved things around, rearranged furniture, opened windows. The sterile perfection I'd cultivated was being systematically dismantled.

I retreated to my office and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a deep breath. This room, at least, remained untouched—a sanctuary of order within the chaos. My phone buzzed with a text from Leo:On my way with documents. Everything went perfectly!

Twenty minutes later, the cleaners were gone, and Leo was spreading documents and proposals across my desk, the Perfect Home Furnishings logo prominently displayed on each page.

"This is impressive," I said, flipping through the detailed endorsement terms. "Three million for a three-year contract?"

Leo grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Told you it would be worth it. They love the whole package—hockey star with the hometown baker. It's marketing gold."

I studied the fine print while Leo fidgeted with his phone, uncharacteristically distracted.

"What's going on with you?" I asked without looking up.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You haven't mentioned the contract value three times or made a joke about buying a yacht." I set the papers down. "And what was that at the courthouse? Between you and Sienna's friend?"

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