Puck Pact: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (East Coast Series)

“You ready for this?”

I heave a sigh as I stride toward my lawyer. “I just want to get this over with so I can go back to pretending like this asshole doesn’t exist.”

Peggy clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s bad karma to talk about a dying man, you know.”

“After all the shit my grandfather did, I think Karma will overlook my comments.” I swing open the glass door and gesture for Peggy to walk in ahead of me.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Just keep your cool,” she says, lowering her voice once we’re inside. “Let me do the talking.”

I felt nothing when my grandfather informed me of his cancer diagnosis. Not sadness. Not grief. Not regret. I didn’t feel satisfaction either—I’m not a monster. But it felt like it was any other day. Like I’d overheard someone else’s conversation as they passed on the street.

So, when his lawyer called and mentioned something about discussing my grandfather’s will, I wanted no part of it. My grandfather hasn’t offered me anything my entire life. Why would he leave me anything in his death? And why would I want anything with his name tied to it anyway? But his lawyer hounded me until Peggy convinced me to meet with him.

Most grandparents are loving, generous people. They create strong bonds and fond memories with their grandchildren. They’re like extensions of a child’s parents. But Lorenzo Aorta isn’t like most grandparents. He didn’t bat an eye when he pushed my mother away for marrying someone he didn’t approve of; or when he refused to welcome my father into his family despite the wonderful man he was; or when he pretended that I didn’t exist for the first sixteen years of my life. My father was from Germany, and Lorenzo couldn’t stand the fact that my mother married someone outside their circle. He’s an old-fashioned man with old-fashioned beliefs. Italians marry Italians. Money marries money. He’s deep-rooted in ethnocentrism, passed down among generations.

Even after my parents died and I was forced to spend two years living on his estate until I turned eighteen, he barely uttered two words to me until I moved out.

To be honest, I didn’t care that he didn’t accept me as his grandson—but he hurt my mother, and I will never forgive him for that.

Lorenzo’s lawyer, Frank, stands when we walk into his office. “Alexander, thank you for meeting with me. You’re a difficult man to get a hold of.”

I scan the room, surprised to find that my grandfather isn’t here for this meeting.

I clasp Frank’s outstretched hand for a quick shake. “Let’s make this quick. I have a game tonight.”

Peggy digs her elbow into my ribs before we lower into the chairs facing Frank’s desk.

“Yes, of course.” Frank drops down into his leather chair and slides a manila file folder across the top of his desk. “Your grandfather named you in his will, and he asked me to share a copy with you. Look it over, and let me know if you have any questions.”

I hand the file to Peggy. “I don’t want anything from Lorenzo. I told you this on the phone.”

Frank swallows as he tugs on his collar. “I understand that, but there’s something you need to know concerning the villa in Tuscany.”

My eyes snap up to his. “My parents’ villa?”

Frank grimaces. “Technically, the villa is in Lorenzo’s name. He⁠—”

“No, it belonged to my parents. They owned it, and they left it to me when they passed.”

Granted, I wasn’t old enough to inherit it when they passed. They had it in their will that it would become mine on my thirtieth birthday, a present they thought they’d be here to surprise me with.

Frank clears his throat. “Your grandfather holds the title. It’s under his name.”

My chest heaves with my shallow breaths as I fight to keep my cool.

Son of a bitch.

Peggy’s eyes scan the paperwork inside the folder. “It looks like he’s leaving the villa to you as long as you abide by this contract.”

Blood roars in my ears as my blood pressure spikes. “No. He can’t do that. My parents had it in their will that I inherit the house. He can’t override that. He can’t take the house away from me.”

“He’s not trying to take it from you.” Frank holds up his hand. “Why don’t you take a moment to look over the contract.”

Peggy lifts a small white envelope from the folder. “There’s a letter here addressed to you.”

“I don’t want to read his letter.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Just tell me what I have to do so I don’t lose the villa.”

Peggy hands me the contract. “You have to disclose your financial portfolio and investments with the aforementioned advisor.”

My eyebrows press together. “I have my own financial advisor. Why does he want me to use his?”

“He wants to make sure you’re set up for retirement,” Frank says. “You’re a young athlete with a lot of money. Lorenzo wants to make sure you’re able to handle the financial responsibility of the villa so it stays in the family.”

I snort. “Family.”

The word burns on my tongue like acid. I had a family, but they were taken away from me too soon. This pathetic excuse of a grandfather has never been my family.

“There’s more,” Peggy whispers. “Keep reading.”

My eyes land on the last stipulation, and my mouth goes dry. “Married?!”

Frank leans forward in his chair. “Look, Alexander⁠—”

No wonder the coward didn’t want to be here for this meeting. He knew I’d choke him out and speed up the process of his death.

“What the hell does being married have to do with owning a house?” My eyes bounce between Frank and Peggy. “This is absurd.”

“He wants to ensure that you sign a prenup, so you’ll be able to protect your assets. It’d be a bonus if you married someone within the same income bracket as you, but not many women make what a pro-athlete makes, so that’s not a requirement. Either way, he feels like a married man will be less likely to knock up a random woman in a hotel room and let her take him for all he’s worth.” Frank clears his throat. “His words, not mine.”

I swallow past the lump of bile in my throat, shifting my eyes to my own lawyer. “What can we do about this, Peg?”

She gives me a small shake of her head. “Not much, kid. Your options are to do what this contract is asking you to do, otherwise he won’t give you the deed to the villa.”

My heart sinks. I want to crumple this contract and stuff it down Frank’s throat. But that would mean losing the villa, and I can’t bear the thought of never stepping foot inside of it again. Of never sitting by the garden my mother loved. Of never feeling the old leather of my father’s office chair under my fingertips. Of not being able to share it with Giuliana someday.

Losing the house feels like losing my parents all over again.

And maybe that’s what Lorenzo truly wants. Maybe he can’t stand the thought of a half-breed living off of his legacy.

Well, fuck that and fuck him.

I consider myself to be a pretty even-keeled guy. Nothing ruffles my feathers. Not even on the ice. I’m in control of my emotions, and I articulate them well. I’m the voice of reason between friends. The captain of my teammates. The one people come to for help. It’s a rare occasion when I deem something worth fighting over.

But this? This is the one thing I have left of my parents.

And I’ll be damned if I let this man take it from me.

I rise from my chair. “And if I agree to these terms, I get the villa? No more tricks up his sleeve, no strings attached? I show my finances, get married, and he’ll sign it over?”

I say it like marriage is as easy as picking out a car, and not one of the most important things I’ll ever do in my life.

“This isn’t a trick, Alexander.” Frank pushes out of his chair and buttons his suit jacket. “If you agree to the terms, then you have until your birthday to fulfill the requirements.”

“We have a deal.”

Peggy gasps beside me as she shoots out of her chair. “Alex, wait. Let’s think about this.”

I know what she’s worried about because it’s the same thing on my mind. But I won’t give up on my dream of having a future spent in that villa, creating the same beautiful memories with my own family that I once made there.

This is insane. Ridiculous. Foolish.

But I’d be willing to sell my soul to the Devil himself if it meant getting that villa in my name.

I snatch a pen off the desk. “Where do I sign?”

“You good, Krum?”

I fly around the back of the net, glaring at Trenton. “I’m fine.”

I’m anything but fine.

I missed six of the ten shots I took during warmups and Trenton wasn’t even blocking the goal. I’ve been fired up ever since I left Frank’s office earlier. I should’ve known better than to schedule a meeting with him on game day, but I wasn’t expecting this.

I can’t lose the villa.

That is the only thought on a loop in my brain. But this game is about to start, and I need to figure out how I’m going to focus.

“You lucky bastard.” McKinley skates by me and smacks me on the pads with his stick. “Your girl looks hot in black and yellow.”

My girl?

My eyes follow his gaze until I spot Aarya’s dark hair and bright-red lips. She’s sitting next to Cassidy behind Trent’s net—and she’s in the jersey I gave her with the number sixteen clear as day on it.

I forgot she was coming tonight. For a moment, my entire mood shifts. A surge of pride courses through me as I skate past the glass that separates us, letting my gaze speak for me.

Damn, she looks good.

She shoots me a wink as her plump red lips pull into a smirk, and I grin.

“There he is.” Trenton smacks my helmet. “Now get your head in the game and let’s fucking go.”

We head back into the locker room, and I’m soaring on a high, feeling the adrenaline pumping in my veins like it always does before a game—only now it’s turned all the way up.

She’s wearing my number, with my name sprawled across the back.

Aside from the rare occasions Annie has snuck Giuliana in to watch me play, this is the only other time someone I know is wearing my jersey.

As we’re waiting in the tunnel for the announcer to call each of the players out onto the ice, I slap Jason’s shoulders from behind. “Let’s go, boys. We’re undefeated. We’re going straight to the championship this season. This is our year. I can feel it.”

The team shouts and chants, the air electric with the pre-game buzz.

Until it all comes crashing down when I’m announced onto the ice. My eyes find Aarya as I circle the rink, and then I watch as she yanks my jersey up and over her head before stuffing it inside her purse.

What the hell?

I can’t make out what she’s saying to Cassidy, but I catch Cassidy shake her head as Aarya crosses her arms over her chest.

Why would she wear it only to take it off?

What just happened?

Something inside me snaps.

I can’t even get the woman to wear my jersey, let alone go on a date with me, yet I somehow need to get married before I lose my parents’ villa.

How in the hell is that going to happen?

Anger courses through me, the years of resentment towards my grandfather I’ve shoved down now bubbling to the surface.

Without thinking, I skate over to the boards in front of Aarya and bang my stick against the glass. “Put on your jersey.”

Aarya locks eyes with me and shakes her head, mouthing, “No.”

I clench my jaw, hurt and confusion rolling off me in waves. “Put. It. On.”

She arches a brow and says, “Make me.”

If the game wasn’t about to start, I’d climb back there and put the jersey back on her myself.

But I don’t have time for this bullshit, or whatever game she’s trying to play.

All the pent-up frustration I’ve been experiencing lately, all the stress, all the heartache… I’m about to take it out on the ice.

Once the puck drops, I’m all over the rink. My job as the Center is to assist and make the plays happen, finding openings for my teammates to score. I’m fast and I pride myself on being two steps ahead of everyone else. But tonight, none of my passes meet their intended targets, I haven’t made one successful shot to the goal, and I even got a two-minute penalty for boarding.

Maybe for another player, this could be chalked up to a bad game. But I’m the captain, and I have a responsibility to my team. Yet my anger has me in a chokehold and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it off.

Somehow, by the grace of God, we come away with a win. The boys played their asses off and stepped up when I couldn’t. And I let them know that when we get back to the locker room.

McKinley slings his arm around me. “It’s okay, Krum. We all have our off days. No one’s perfect, not even you.”

I shake my head. “I let you down.”

“Hey, enough of that.” Jason nudges me with his elbow. “It’s one game, and we still won. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

Those are the same words I’d offer a teammate. I’m just not used to being on the receiving end of them.

After I shower, I hop on my bike and head home, eager to see my favorite curly-headed girl.

Still, thoughts plague me while I ride.

Get married or lose the villa. It doesn’t seem fair or logical.

Adding insult to injury, a beautiful woman didn’t even want to wear my jersey tonight. And it stings a little more than I’d care to admit. Hundreds of people wear my name across their jerseys all across the country, but not one of them is ever truly there for me.

No one to love me.

No one to claim me.

I belong to no one.