Married Overnight to the Hockey Captain

Harper collins

Something was wrong.

Harper felt it long before she even opened her eyes.

A heavy, dull ache throbbed behind her temples, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. It started small, then spiked sharply enough to make her wince.

What the hell happened? she thought, letting out a soft groan.

She shifted under sheets that felt impossibly soft—way nicer than anything she owned—and instinctively turned toward the heavy warmth beside her.

Warmth.

Her brain stalled. Why was there something warm in bed with her? She lived completely alone. The sudden realization cut right through the morning fog in her head, and her eyes snapped open.

For a second, she just stared.

There was a man sleeping right next to her. He was lying on his back, one arm tossed lazily above his head, with a crisp white duvet draped low across his waist.

Morning sunlight streamed through massive, towering windows, cutting golden lines across the sharp angles of his face. His dark hair was messy from sleep, falling over his forehead and softening features that were, frankly, ridiculous to look at.

Why was a drop-dead gorgeous stranger in her bed?

Even though he was asleep, he looked important. Commandingly so. Like confidence was just something he breathed out.

Harper blinked. Then she blinked again. She tightly shut her eyes, whispering to herself that this was just a really vivid dream, counted to three, and forced them open again.

The handsome stranger hadn't vanished. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, completely clueless that the woman next to him was staring at him like he was a ghost.

"What...?" The whisper barely cleared her lips before reality hit her like a slap in the face.

This wasn't a dream.

Her pulse went into overdrive.

Harper scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the expensive silk sheets as she slammed her back against the padded headboard. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her mind racing way too fast to catch a single coherent thought.

Who was he? Where was she? How did she get here?

Forcing her eyes off the guy, she finally looked around the room. It didn't look like a standard hotel suite. It looked like a spread in a luxury estate magazine.

Crystal chandeliers caught the morning light, and polished marble floors gleamed beneath heavy, handcrafted furniture. The faint, sweet scent of fresh white roses drifted from elegant glass vases.

Beyond the massive glass windows, a glittering city skyline stretched out forever under a bright blue sky.

A city? Was she in Las Vegas?

The memory hit her all at once. She had been helping plan a charity gala and had attended as one of the event planners. She remembered checking into her hotel, slipping into a black evening gown, and accepting a glass of champagne from a tray. After that? Nothing. Just a total black hole.

And now she was waking up next to a guy she didn't know and couldn't remember meeting. For all she knew, he could be dangerous, and she had just spent the whole night with him.

What did I do last night?

A faint rustling sound drew her attention down. Something white and crumpled was lying near the foot of the bed.

Harper frowned, carefully swinging her legs over the edge. The second her feet hit the floor, the entire room tilted dangerously. She groaned, catching herself against the bedside table and holding on until the dizziness finally passed.

When her vision cleared, she stared at the white fabric.

It was a wedding veil.

"No," she muttered under her breath.

She followed the trail of tumbled satin across the shiny floor until her eyes landed on the rest of it.

A wedding gown. It was a stunning, glittering dress made of ivory silk and intricate lace—something that would cost more than ten years of her salary. It was, without a doubt, a bridal dress.

Why was there a wedding dress on the floor? And why wasn't she in the black gown she started the night in and now in a tee shirt?

Harper looked down at herself, and her heart stopped.

A massive, brilliant diamond was resting on the fourth finger of her left hand. The sunlight caught the stone, throwing tiny, blinding sparkles across the walls.

Harper stared at it, her mind going blank. She grabbed the ring and twisted it, trying to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge.

"No, no, no... there's no way." A breathless, panicked laugh escaped her. "There is no way in hell I got married."

Behind her, the bedsheets rustled. Harper spun around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

The stranger was awake. He was sitting up, staring right at her with piercing blue eyes, his brows pulled together in sheer confusion. He looked at Harper, looked around the unfamiliar luxury room, and then looked back at her.

For a long, heavy silence, neither of them said a word. Neither of them seemed to have any idea what they were looking at.

Finally, the man broke the quiet. "Who are you?"

Harper stared at him, completely insulted. She pointed a finger at herself, then at him. "You... you don't know who I am?"

The man’s frown deepened, his jaw tightening. "Should I?"

Harper let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I was about to ask you the exact same thing!" she snapped.

He rubbed a hand hard over his face, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog. "I’ve never seen you before in my life."

"Well, I’ve never seen you either!"

He glanced her up and down, his eyes narrowing. " What the hell is going on?’’

Silence settled over the room again. An uncomfortable, tense silence packed with questions neither of them could answer.

Harper glared at him, her eyes tracking his movement as he moved his hands. That’s when she caught a glimpse of his left hand.

A simple, clean platinum band gleamed on his ring finger.

Her eyes went wide. Sensing her gaze, the man looked down at his own hand. His expression completely dropped. Slowly, they both looked at Harper's hand, comparing the two matching rings.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. The only sound in the entire suite was the frantic thumping of Harper's heart against her ribs.

Then, a phone started vibrating across the room.

It buzzed once. Twice. Then it started lit up continuously, buzzing over and over without stopping.

Both of them scrambled out of bed at the same time, rushing toward the sound. They briefly collided before the man reached out and grabbed the device off the table. The second the screen lit up, every drop of color drained right out of his face.

Hundreds of notifications were flooding the screen. Missed calls were stacking up by the second.

Text messages were popping up faster than he could even scroll, but one alert was pinned right at the very top of the screen in bold letters. It was a breaking news headline.

HOCKEY SUPERSTAR LIAM CARTER SECRETLY MARRIES MYSTERY WOMAN IN LAS VEGAS

"Oh no," Harper whispered, the words choking in her throat.

Slowly, her eyes lifted from the glowing phone screen to the man standing right in front of her.

Liam Carter. The famous hockey captain of the New York Titans. That was the stranger in her room. And she was officially his wife.