Stealing My Brother's Bride: The Ice‑Hockey Star's Obsession

Hayley POV:

I slapped his hand away, my chest heaving with fury. "I am not your woman, and I'm definitely not some whore you can buy!"

Blake's eyes went cold. The temperature in the room seemed to drop with his mood. He didn't speak, just watched me, his gaze that of a predator cornering its prey. There was nowhere for me to run.

Under his silent scrutiny, I held his gaze, chin held high. It was the last shred of dignity I had.

Then he let out a slow breath, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Feisty. I've always liked that about you."

He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. I instinctively backed away until my back hit the cold wall. He lifted one hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Did you really think," he said, his voice low and rough, "that refusing my money would make me want you any less?"

I turned my face away, refusing to look at him. He didn't force my jaw. He waited, patient, until my gaze reluctantly returned to his.

His mouth crashed down on mine again. It wasn't wild like last night, but it was punishing, a clear declaration of his ownership. His hand cradled the back of my head, softening the pressure. I struggled, my fists beating against his solid chest, but he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.

"Stop fighting me," he murmured. "I'm not your enemy."

Slowly, my resistance faded into weak, futile pushing. I felt the tremor in his hands, the unspoken plea behind his grip, and my fight lost its fire.

He scooped me up into his arms. I cried out in surprise as he strode back towards the bedroom and laid me down gently onto the messy king-sized bed, as if I were something fragile.

Blake loomed over me. He took my wrists gently and rested them above my head, without squeezing. "I told you," he said, his voice a low rasp, "I can't let you go."

This time, I was completely sober as I felt him enter me.

His movements were slow, almost reverent, and his eyes kept searching mine for any sign of pain.

Shame washed over me in a suffocating wave, but beneath it, something else stirred, something I refused to name.

"Hayley," he whispered, his voice thick with regret, "look at me. Tell me to stop, and I will."

I didn't answer.

Seconds that felt like hours—then slowly withdrew, gathering me into his arms and pulling the sheet over both of us. He held me, saying nothing, his chin resting on my head.

I don't know how much time passed before I fell into an exhausted, broken sleep.

When I woke up again, I was alone. Blake was gone.

On the nightstand, the black credit card sat like a silent, mocking trophy.

My phone was next to it. I grabbed it and turned it on.

The screen lit up with a flood of missed calls and messages, mostly from Kennedy and Bree.

I swiped away all of Kennedy's notifications and opened the messages from Bree.

The latest one had been sent half an hour ago: "Hayley, honey, where did you go? Everyone was so worried last night. I booked us a table at your favorite spot on Michigan Ave. Let's go shopping and have lunch?"

Her hypocrisy made my stomach turn. She was still playing the part, still treating me like an idiot.

I stared at the screen, a plan slowly crystallizing in my mind.

Shopping? Perfect. That was exactly what I needed. I needed an opportunity, a chance to get my hands on her phone.A chance to obtain more evidence that the two of them had betrayed me.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the hatred, and typed a reply with trembling fingers: "Okay. See you at 2 PM at our usual spot."

Her reply was almost instantaneous: "Great! See you there, sweetie!"

I looked at her message and a smile, the first in two days, spread across my face. It was cold, devoid of any warmth.

Bree, the show is just getting started.

I dragged myself out of bed and went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen, my lips slightly bruised, but my gaze was sharp and determined.

Revenge. The word filled me with a strength I didn't know I had.

I would make Kennedy and Bree pay the highest price for what they did.