Chapter 1
Julian’s POV
I can’t believe I flew from Chicago to Toronto just to see this fucking bastard play.
No matter how much I hate him, I still came, I still bought the ticket, and sat in the crowd like some crazy-obsessed idiot.
Tonight was the Toronto Titans versus the Vancouver Wolves, and unfortunately, Elias played for the Titans.
Fuck, I hate him.
I hated that the media made him out to be hockey’s golden boy, hated his stupid cocky smirk, hated how he looked so calm under pressure when everyone else was falling apart around him, hated that every time someone said my name, he was always attached to it.
Julian Carter vs Elias Novak
The greatest rivalry in the history of hockey.
Bullshit.
The rivalry had stopped being fun years ago; now it was personal. Elias skated onto the ice, and the crowd went wild, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
The bastard looked unreal in the arena light. Fast. Sharp. Effortless. Like he was born on the ice.
He was the type of skater who could skate around the best players on the ice as if they weren’t even there and do it with scary precision.
Dark hair curled beneath his helmet, jersey stretched over wide shoulders as he took the punk easily.
And then the prick scored, of course, he scored.
“NOVAK!”
“NOVACK!”
“NOVAK!
My jaw was clenched so tight it hurt.
Elias slammed into the glass, grinning, before his teammates rushed him, shoving and hugging him as the crowds lost their minds.
The prick was playing as if he had already won the championship.
“Fucking bastard.” I scoffed loudly.
I hated to admit it, but the bastard was good, really good, and that was something Elias Novak would never hear from me, ever.
I pulled my hoodie down over my face, grateful for the baseball cap and mask that covered most of my features. I didn’t want anybody to know me.
If the media found out that Julian Carter had flown across the country just to watch Elias Novak play hockey?
They’d go fucking beserk.
Articles, rumours, fan theories. Absolutely not.
The game continued, brutal and fast, and I couldn’t help but watch Elias.
Watching how he ruled the ice, how players listened to him, how he lived as if he knew nobody here could touch him.
Asshole. Arrogant asshole.
And by the third period, the Titans had control.
When Elias scored again, the roof almost blew off the arena. Blue and silver towels flapped wildly through the stands as fans screamed themselves hoarse. Flowers, jerseys, and even stuffed animals rained down around the rink as security tried to control the mob.
The Titans won 5-2. Unfortunately,
My eyes watered hard from rolling them so fucking hard I wished the bastard had lost.
Elias pulled off his helmet, and the crowd went crazy, sweat soaking his curls as the cameras snapped around him nonstop.
And that was my cue to leave. I stood quickly, pulling my hood higher up before glancing towards the rink one last time.
Big mistake. Elias’ eyes found mine immediately, and I froze.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
There was no way, no fucking way he recognised me. I was in full disguise.
I tried to settle my racing heart. I turned and shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked toward the exit.
Get out. Get outside. Go back to the hotel, easy. Just go away.
I just got down the hall when an arm suddenly snatched me and yanked me hard into a dark room.
The door slammed shut behind me.
“What the–”
I hit the wall hard. A familiar voice came out of the darkness.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognise you, Cater?
I froze for half a second and then pushed the motherfucker away from me.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
Everywhere his hand had grabbed me burnt on my body with irritation. It was stupid how conscious I was of him, his heat, his chest too close, the smell of sweat and expensive cologne on his jersey.
Who the fuck sprays cologne on their jersey when they want to play?
Oh, right, I forgot this motherfucker
Another reason I hate him so much.
Elias barely moved from the shove, and that pissed me off even more. Languidly, he leaned against the wall, panting from the game, his dark curls damp against his forehead, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“You came all the way to Toronto just to watch me play, princess?” he asked with a smirk.
Fucking bastard, I wanted to punch that smirk right off his face.
“Go fuck yourself, Novak.”
His grin widened.
“Aw, don’t be shy now.”
“You’re fucking delusional if you think I came here for you.”
“Really?” Elias stepped closer again, towering over me easily. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like Julian Carter couldn’t take his eyes off me.”
I clenched my jaw.
God, he knew exactly how to get under my skin. Every word out of his mouth sounded arrogant, mocking, like he enjoyed watching me lose my mind around him.
And the worst part? He absolutely did.
“You’re still obsessed with yourself,” I muttered.
“And you are still obsessed with me.”
“Eat shit.”
Elias laughed softly, low and infuriatingly attractive.
I stopped immediately when voices echoed down the hallway outside the room.
His teammates.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.
I couldn’t let them see me.
Fuck, this is all Elias’ fault. I was on my way out, this bastard just had to grab me.
The last thing I want is for his teammates to know I flew here to watch this asshole.
Getting through the door is absolutely out of the question because I will be caught, so I turned quickly, trying to find somewhere to hide, but Elias suddenly grabbed my arm again, fingers tightening around my wrist.
“You fucker, let me–”
The door swung open before I could finish.
Bright light flooded the room instantly.
I yanked my hood lower over my face, keeping my head down as several of Elias’ teammates walked in laughing loudly.
“There he is!” one of them shouted. “Our superstar!”
Another player smacked Elias hard on the shoulder. “Two goals tonight, Novak. Absolutely beast.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes because I could do better.
“Did you see the crowd?” someone else laughed. “They were practically ready to marry you.
Elias only smirked, completely relaxed despite still gripping my arm like he had no intention of letting go.
Asshole.
I kept my face hidden, praying nobody looked too closely at me.
Then another voice spoke up.
“Who’s this?”
I recognised him instantly.
Luca Moretti, Elias’ best friend and co-captain.
Fuck.
Luca narrowed his eyes at me curiously while Elias looked down at me with pure amusement dancing across his face.
The bastard said casually.
“Oh, this? He’s one of my obsessed fans snooping around the locker room looking for my jersey”. The bastard, I cursed him in my mind.
Then he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“But he is also my fucking whore for tonight.”
My eyes widened in disbelief.
