The penthouse elevator chimed with a soft, expensive ring before the polished steel doors glided open.

Liam stepped out into a massive, minimalist living room that looked more like a modern art museum than a home. The entire back wall was made of floor-to-ceiling glass, showcasing the glittering New York City skyline. Everything was sleek chrome, dark leather, and pristine white marble.

"Drop your bags by the door," Jaxson muttered, tossing his car keys onto a marble kitchen island that was larger than Liam’s entire old bedroom.

Jaxson had finally changed out of his bulky hockey gear into a gray hoodie and dark sweatpants, but his presence still managed to swallow up the massive room. He looked exhausted, his broad shoulders slightly slumped, though his posture remained aggressively defensive.

Liam set his two battered duffel bags down onto the spotless hardwood floor. Next to the flawless luxury of the apartment, his worn-out belongings looked incredibly pathetic. He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to let his awe show on his face.

"Nice place," Liam said, his voice dripping with cool sarcasm. "A little warm and welcoming for a guy with a frozen block of ice for a heart, don't you think?"

Jaxson rolled his eyes, walking over to a massive stainless-steel refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of sports drink. "Save the commentary, pixie. We aren't under the cameras anymore. We don't have to pretend to be interested in each other's lives."

He took a long swig, his throat swallowing sharply, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His dark eyes locked onto Liam’s thin frame, narrowing slightly as he took in the cheap, faded material of Liam's sweater.

"Let's lay down the ground rules right now," Jaxson said, setting the bottle down with a firm thud. "This is my space. I like my privacy. We stay out of each other's way, we don't bring guests over, and we only do the 'loyal, doting boyfriends' act when Sarah text us that the paparazzi are outside."

"Suits me perfectly," Liam shot back, stepping forward. "I have no desire to get anywhere near you. Where is my room?"

Jaxson rubbed the back of his neck, a sudden, tense silence settling over the room. He didn't answer immediately, his eyes shifting away toward the glass wall.

A terrible, cold dread coiled in Liam’s stomach. "Jaxson. Where is the guest bedroom?"

"There isn't one," Jaxson said flatly, his gaze snapping back to Liam, completely guarded. "It’s a one-bedroom penthouse. When I bought this place, I didn’t plan on running a corporate boarding house for figure skaters."

Liam froze, his jaw tightening. "You’re a multimillionaire athlete and you only have *one* bed?"

"I have a massive master suite and a walk-in closet larger than your apartment, yes," Jaxson snapped, his temper flaring at the judgment in Liam’s tone. "But only one bed. Sterling’s PR team insisted we can't buy a second bed either. If the maids or any building staff see a second bed being delivered, the rumor that we’re faking it will leak within an hour. We’re supposed to be madly in love, remember?"

"I am not sleeping in the same bed as a man," Liam said, his voice dropping to a harsh, absolute whisper. "Especially not a two-hundred-pound hockey player who tried to break my ribs this morning."

"Oh, please. I’m a straight guy, Vance. You think I want you in my bed?" Jaxson let out a dry, irritated laugh, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "You’re completely safe from me. I don't look at guys, and even if I did, I’ve got teammates with bigger biceps than you."

"Good, because your massive ego wouldn't even fit under the same blanket anyway," Liam spat, his eyes blazing with fury. "I'll take the couch."

Liam turned toward the massive L-shaped Italian leather sofa in the center of the room. It looked incredibly expensive, but it was also sleek, firm, and completely devoid of comfort.

"Fine. Take the couch," Jaxson said, turning on his heel and heading toward the master bedroom corridor. "Blankets are in the hallway linen closet. Don't touch anything in the kitchen unless you're cleaning it up."

The heavy master bedroom door shut with a solid, echoing click.

Liam stood alone in the silence of the massive penthouse, the bright lights of the city bleeding through the glass. He let out a long, shaky breath, the exhausting weight of the entire day finally crashing down on him. His body ached from the hard fall on the ice, and his stomach let out a low, painful growl. He hadn't eaten anything since a stale granola bar at five o'clock that morning.

He walked over to his duffel bag, pulled out a worn-out gray hoodie, and changed into it. After grabbing a single, thin throw blanket from the closet, he curled up on the cold, stiff leather couch. He pulled his knees tightly against his chest, staring out at the city, trying to force his mind to focus on his Olympic goals. *Six months. Just survive six months.*

Hours passed. The penthouse grew entirely dark, the temperature dropping significantly.

Liam tossed and turned, but the leather was freezing, squeaking loudly every time he shifted. He was shivering violently now, his teeth chattering softly in the dark. The thin throw blanket did absolutely nothing against the draft coming from the massive glass windows.

Suddenly, a soft rustle broke the silence of the room.

Liam tensed up, his eyes snapping open in the darkness.

A tall, towering silhouette was standing right beside the couch. Jaxson.

Liam scrambled backward against the sofa cushions, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. "What are you doing? I told you to stay away—"

Before he could finish, a heavy, incredibly thick velvet duvet was violently dumped right over his head, burying him in a sudden wave of intense, trapped warmth. The blanket smelled faintly of expensive cologne and cedar wood.

Liam pushed the heavy duvet away from his face, blinking up through the darkness. Jaxson was standing over him, wearing nothing but his low-slung sweatpants, his bare, heavily muscled chest casting a massive shadow over the couch.

"Shut up, pixie," Jaxson muttered, his voice thick and rough with sleep. "Your teeth are chattering so loud I can hear them through the damn wall. I have a game tomorrow night. If I lose sleep because you're freezing to death on my furniture, I’m throwing you out."

Jaxson turned to walk away, but stopped, his dark eyes locking onto Liam’s face in the dim moonlight. His gaze drifted down to Liam's hands, which were trembling slightly as they clutched the heavy duvet.

For a fraction of a second, the harsh, arrogant look on Jaxson's face wavered, replaced by a strange, unreadable intensity. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching in the dark.

"Don't get used to it," Jaxson rasped, his voice dropping an octave lower before he turned and strode back toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Liam pulled the warm, heavy duvet up to his chin. The lingering scent of Jaxson’s skin wrapped around him completely, making his chest tighten with a bizarre, chaotic jolt of adrenaline that he couldn't explain.

He was straight. Jaxson was straight. This was just a business arrangement.

So why was his heart racing so fast?

The morning sun hit the penthouse like a spotlight, reflecting blindingly off the polished marble floors.

Liam woke up with a sharp jolt, his muscles stiff from the uncompromising frame of the leather sofa. For a terrifying three seconds, he didn't know where he was. Then, the heavy scent of cedar wood and expensive cologne anchored him. He was still wrapped tightly in Jaxson’s velvet duvet.

He threw the blanket off like it had suddenly caught fire. Standing up, he stretched his aching back, his stomach letting out another loud, demanding rumble.

Before he could even check his phone, the heavy master bedroom door swung open.

Jaxson stepped out, completely dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit that made his broad shoulders look impossibly wide. His dark hair was styled back perfectly, and he was buttoning his cuffs with a cold, focused precision. He didn't look like a rough hockey player anymore; he looked like a high-profile executive.

He didn't even glance at Liam as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. "Get dressed, pixie. Sarah just texted. The circus is officially in town."

"What are you talking about?" Liam asked, his voice rough with sleep as he smoothed down his messy hair.

"Paparazzi," Jaxson said flatly, taking a sip of his shake. "They’ve been staked out across the street since six in the morning. We have to leave for the arena together. There’s a café two blocks away. We’re going to walk there, buy coffee, and look like a happy, regular couple before morning practice."

Liam’s chest tightened. "Already? We signed the papers less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Welcome to the big leagues," Jaxson scoffed, finally turning his dark eyes to look at Liam. His gaze swept down Liam’s wrinkled, oversized gray hoodie and bare legs, his eyebrows pulling together in a sharp frown. "And change out of that. You look like a stiff breeze could blow you over. Put on something that actually fits you."

Liam’s jaw clenched. "This is my comfortable clothes, Thorne. I don't exactly have a multimillion-dollar wardrobe budget."

"Just... go fix yourself," Jaxson muttered, turning around to check his phone.

Ten minutes later, Liam emerged from the bathroom wearing his best black slim-fit jeans and a high-necked cream sweater. It wasn't expensive, but it hugged his lean, athletic frame in a way that emphasized his long lines and dancer’s posture.

When he walked back into the living room, Jaxson was waiting by the door. The captain looked up from his phone, and for a split second, his fingers froze over the screen. His dark eyes tracked Liam from his boots all the way up to his face, his expression turning oddly tense. He swallowed hard, his throat moving against his crisp white collar, before his usual arrogant mask slid back into place.

"Better," Jaxson muttered, grabbing his coat. "Let's go. Remember the rules. We don't talk unless we have to, but when we get past those lobby doors, you keep close to me. If they ask questions, let me do the talking."

"Don't worry," Liam said, his voice dripping with venom. "I have zero desire to pretend I enjoy your company a second longer than necessary."

The elevator ride down to the lobby was dead silent, the air between them thick with a volatile, defensive energy. Both of them were straight. Both of them liked women. Yet, being trapped in a moving metal box with another man while preparing to tell the world they were sleeping together felt completely overwhelming.

The moment the glass lobby doors slid open, a wall of blinding light hit them.

"Jaxson! Over here!"

"Thorne! Is it true? Are you and the new coach together?"

"Liam! Look this way!"

A dozen paparazzi surged forward from behind the metal barricades, their heavy camera lenses clicking rapidly like a swarm of digital insects. The bright flashes exploded in Liam’s vision, making his eyes water. He instinctively flinched, stepping back. He had been in front of sports judges before, but he had never faced a ravenous media mob.

Before he could lose his footing, a massive, heavy hand locked firmly onto the small of his back.

Liam gasped softly as Jaxson stepped into his space, his massive body completely shielding Liam from the aggressive crowd. The heat from Jaxson’s palm burned straight through the fabric of Liam's cream sweater, his long fingers splaying over Liam's lower back with a heavy, possessive grip.

"Keep walking," Jaxson muttered directly into Liam’s ear. His deep voice vibrated against Liam’s cheek, sending a sudden, chaotic jolt of electricity straight down Liam’s spine. "Don't look at them. Look at me."

Liam forced his eyes up, locking his gaze onto Jaxson’s sharp jawline. To the cameras, it looked like a breathless, enamored gaze. In reality, Liam was trying to ground himself against the sheer panic of the crowd.

Jaxson flashed a charming, easy smile at the cameras, completely playing the part of the doting boyfriend. He guided Liam down the sidewalk with a steady, unyielding pressure, his hand never leaving Liam’s waist.

"Jaxson! Is the relationship serious?" a reporter yelled, shoving a microphone over the barrier.

Jaxson stopped for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening on Liam, pulling the smaller man tightly against his side until their hips brushed. The sudden, intimate contact made Liam’s breath catch in his throat.

"We’re just trying to focus on our sports, guys," Jaxson said, his voice smooth and perfectly rehearsed. "But yeah. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me this season. Now give us some space, please."

A collective gasp went up from the reporters as Jaxson guided Liam into the quiet sanctuary of the corner café, the heavy glass door cutting off the chaotic noise of the street.

The moment the door shut, Liam violently wrenched himself out of Jaxson's grip. He stumbled back a step, his chest heaving as he stared at the captain, his heart pounding erratically against his ribs.

Jaxson let his hand drop to his side, his fingers flexing slightly as if he could still feel the curve of Liam’s waist. His smirk was completely gone, replaced by a dark, intense look as he stared at Liam’s flushed cheeks and parted lips.

"You can let go of me now," Liam hissed, his voice trembling slightly with an emotion he couldn't quite define. "The cameras are outside. We're indoors."

Jaxson stepped closer, his shadow completely swallowing Liam up against the café counter. His eyes narrowed, a strange, dangerous heat flickering in the dark depths of his gaze.

"I was just doing my job, pixie," Jaxson whispered, his deep voice dropping to a low, rough register that made Liam’s stomach flip. He leaned in just an inch closer, his scent wrapping around Liam completely. "But you might want to get used to it. Because for the next six months, my hands are going to be all over you."

The quiet safety of the café lasted all of twenty minutes. By the time they reached the Horizon Center, the news of Jaxson’s public statement had already exploded across every major sports network.

Liam hurried into the facility, deliberately walking three paces ahead of Jaxson to keep some distance between them. His lower back still felt bizarrely warm, the phantom imprint of Jaxson’s large palm lingering through his sweater like a brand. It was infuriating. He was a straight man who had spent his entire life chasing women, yet a simple corporate stunt with a brute of a hockey captain had his pulse acting completely erratic.

"Vance," Jaxson called out, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete corridor. "Slow down. I'm not chasing you through the halls."

"Then don't," Liam snapped without turning around. "Go to your locker room. I have to prep the agility mats before practice starts."

"The coach changed the schedule," Jaxson said, quickening his stride until he easily cut off Liam’s path, forcing the smaller man to halt. Jaxson looked down at him, his dark eyes intense and completely unreadable. "Miller wants a full team meeting before anyone touches the ice. He wants us both there to establish... whatever the hell this is to the boys."

Liam swallowed down the sudden knot of anxiety in his throat. Facing a dozen aggressive, hyper-masculine hockey players who had spent the last twenty-four hours watching their captain "date" another man sounded like an absolute nightmare. Especially since both he and Jaxson were completely straight.

"Fine," Liam whispered, shifting his gear bag to his other shoulder. "Lead the way."

The doors to the Warriors' main locker room were thick wood, painted in the team’s signature black and gold. When Jaxson pushed them open, the usual chaotic noise—the shouting, the loud rap music, the slamming of gear—instantly died out.

Every single head snapped toward the doorway.

The air in the room became incredibly thick. Liam felt a dozen pairs of eyes scanning him, judging him, trying to piece together the sleek figure skater from the viral video with the reality standing next to their captain.

"Cap," muttered Miller, a massive defenseman with a bearded face and a scarred eyebrow, breaking the heavy silence. He stood up from his bench, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Didn't expect to see you walking in with a boyfriend today. The guys on the sports forum are having a field day."

Jaxson’s entire demeanor shifted instantly. The easy, charming mask he wore for the paparazzi vanished, replaced by the terrifying, dominant aura of a team captain. He stepped forward, his broad shoulders squared, shielding Liam half-intentionally from the locker room’s collective gaze.

"Drop the smirk, Miller," Jaxson growled, his deep voice carrying a lethal edge that made the other players straighten up in their seats. "You all know the situation. The front office laid it out. It's a PR play to keep me on the ice and save this franchise from a league suspension. Anyone who has a problem with it can take it up with Mr. Sterling."

"Hey, we don't care who you pretend to sleep with if it keeps our top scorer in the game," a voice called out from the back, prompting a few low chuckles.

"Good. Because Liam is our new agility coach, and you're going to treat him with the same respect you treat Miller," Jaxson barked, his eyes sweeping the room until every player looked away. He turned slightly, looking down at Liam. "Sit by my locker. Don't touch the gear."

Liam didn't appreciate being ordered around like a pet, but he walked over to Jaxson’s designated stall anyway. The locker smelled strongly of leather, sweat, and the distinct wintergreen scent that seemed to follow Jaxson everywhere.

As Liam sat down on the wooden bench, his knee accidentally brushed against Jaxson's leg.

Both men froze.

The contact was completely accidental, just a brief touch of fabric through their pants, but a sudden, violent spark of tension snapped between them. Jaxson looked down at Liam, his breathing hitching for a microsecond. His dark eyes darkened significantly, tracking the movement of Liam’s chest as it rose and fell.

"Sorry," Liam muttered stiffly, pulling his leg back, his cheeks flushing against his will.

"Don't worry about it," Jaxson rasped, his voice dropping to that low, rough register that seemed reserved only for when they were too close. He cleared his throat, turning back to his gear locker to hide the sudden tension in his jaw.

"Hey, Cap!" Miller called out from across the room, tossing a roll of shin-guard tape toward Jaxson. "Since you guys are living together now, who handles the domestic stuff? Does the pixie make you breakfast, or do you have to carry him over the threshold every night?"

The locker room erupted into loud, boisterous laughter. It wasn't entirely malicious—it was typical, crude athlete banter—but it made Liam’s blood boil. He opened his mouth to deliver a biting retort, but Jaxson beat him to it.

Jaxson caught the tape effortlessly in one hand. He didn't laugh. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step toward Miller, his entire body radiating an incredibly dark, possessive aggression that stunned the entire room into immediate silence.

"Miller," Jaxson whispered, the quietness of his voice far more terrifying than a shout. He tossed the tape back, hitting the defenseman squarely in the chest. "Say another word about him, and I'll ensure you spend the entire playoff run watching from the press box. Am I making myself clear?"

Miller swallowed hard, his smirk completely vanishing. He nodded quickly. "Crystal, Cap. Just joking."

Liam stared up at Jaxson, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. The sheer, unbridled protectiveness radiating off the captain was overwhelming. Jaxson was straight. He didn't want Liam. This was all a business contract.

So why did Jaxson look like he wanted to tear down anyone who looked at Liam the wrong way?

Jaxson turned back around, his eyes locking onto Liam’s stunned expression. For a long, breathless moment, neither of them spoke. The heat between them was thick enough to suffocate, a strange, terrifying shift in the air that had absolutely nothing to do with hockey or figure skating.

Suddenly, the locker room door swung open, and Coach Miller walked in, breaking the spell. "Alright, ice is ready! Gear up, let's see what the pixie can teach us about balance."

Jaxson ripped his suit jacket off, revealing the tight white dress shirt underneath that stretched over his muscular chest. He didn't look at Liam as he reached for his pads, his voice strained. "Go get your skates on, Vance. Let's get this over with."