Page 5

I stood outside Jax's waterfront mansion, fighting the urge to turn around and run back to the comfortable familiarity of my bakery. What was I doing here? Considering a fake marriage to a man I barely knew? Had I completely lost my mind?

Before I could change my mind, I rang the doorbell. To my surprise, Jax himself answered rather than some butler or housekeeper. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a simple gray t-shirt that somehow looked expensive despite its plainness.

"Hi," I said, immediately feeling awkward.

"Hi," he echoed, stepping back. "Come in."

I stepped into the foyer, trying not to gawk at my surroundings. The place was enormous—all sleek lines, glass, and metal, with a stunning view of the water through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was beautiful in the way high-end furniture showrooms are beautiful: perfect, pristine, and completely impersonal. There were no family photos, no mementos, nothing that suggested someone actually lived here rather than just existed within the space.

"Leo and Olivia are already here," Jax said, leading me deeper into the house. "They have some documents they want to discuss."

I followed him into a living room where two people were waiting. I recognized Leo from his visit to my bakery—mid-thirties, with an easy smile and a slightly rumpled appearance despite his expensive suit. The woman beside him was striking—tall, immaculately dressed in a tailored pantsuit, with sharp features and an assessing gaze that made me immediately conscious of my simple sundress and cardigan.

"Sienna, welcome," Leo said, standing to greet me. "Thank you for coming."

"This is Olivia, my endorsement manager," Jax introduced. "Olivia, this is Sienna Williams."

"Lovely to meet you," Olivia said, her smile professional. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise," I replied, though in truth, I knew nothing about her.

"Please, sit," Leo gestured to the couch. "Can we get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm fine, thank you." I perched on the edge of the couch, feeling immediately out of my element. This felt like a business meeting, not a discussion about marriage—fake or otherwise.

Leo opened a folder on the coffee table. "So, Jax has explained the basic premise of our proposal?"

"A temporary marriage to help his image and secure an endorsement deal," I confirmed. "In exchange for paying off my bakery debt."

"Exactly," Leo nodded. "What we're proposing is a three-month arrangement. You and Jax would legally marry, you'd move in here to maintain appearances, and you'd accompany him to certain public events as his wife. After the Perfect Home Furnishings deal is secured, you'd divorce amicably, citing the classic 'grew apart' reason."

Olivia took over seamlessly. "We'd need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement, of course. The terms of the arrangement would remain strictly confidential."

"And in return?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Jax will pay off your bakery debt immediately," Leo confirmed. "The full hundred and fifty thousand."

I tried to process the reality of what they were suggesting. Live here, in this sterile mansion? With Jax? Pretend to be in love with a man whose coldness had earned him the nickname "Ice Man"?

During the contract discussion, I became increasingly aware of Jax's intense gaze. While Olivia detailed the terms, I noticed him watching my face, his focus occasionally dropping to my lips as I spoke, in a way that felt strangely intimate. The scrutiny made my skin warm, though I tried to ignore it.

"I'd want my own lawyer to review any contracts before signing," I finally said, surprising them with my business acumen. I might be a baker, but I wasn't naive.

"Of course," Leo agreed. "That's completely reasonable."

"And I have conditions of my own," I added, sitting straighter. "I need to maintain my baking schedule. The bakery stays open, and I continue working there."

Olivia frowned slightly. "That complicates things. As Jax's wife, people might expect—"

"The bakery is non-negotiable," I interrupted firmly. "It's my livelihood and my passion. I'm not giving it up, even temporarily."

"We can work with that," Jax spoke for the first time since introductions. "We'll craft a narrative that includes your dedication to your family business. It could actually enhance the image we're creating."

His support surprised me. I continued, gaining confidence. "Also, my dog comes with me. Sprinkles lives wherever I live."

A flicker of what might have been amusement crossed Jax's face. "The dog that muddied my pants? Fine."

Leo looked between us, clearly pleased. "Excellent! Now, we'll need to create a believable backstory for your relationship and quick marriage."

Olivia pulled out a tablet. "We're thinking something along these lines: after your viral meeting, Jax came to your bakery to apologize properly. You got talking, discovered a mutual attraction, and began dating secretly to avoid media attention. The relationship progressed quickly—when you know, you know—and you decided to marry without fanfare."

As they continued outlining our fictional love story, I realized Jax had been unusually quiet. When I glanced his way, I found him watching me with an intensity that made me suddenly self-conscious.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Jax directly, interrupting Olivia's narrative planning. "About me? You're basically inviting a stranger into your home, your life. That doesn't seem like something the Jax Harrison I've heard about would do."

Something shifted in his expression—a brief vulnerability quickly masked. "It's not ideal," he admitted. "But this arrangement benefits us both. Your bakery gets saved, I get the endorsement. It's business."

His blunt assessment stung slightly, even though I'd been thinking the same thing. This was a transaction, nothing more. The reminder was necessary, especially given the unwanted awareness I felt whenever he looked at me.

After finalizing more details, Leo and Olivia excused themselves to make some calls, leaving Jax and me alone.

"I should show you around," Jax said, rising from his seat. "If we're going to do this, you'll need to know your way around... our home."

The phrase sounded strange coming from him, and I could tell he felt the awkwardness of it too.

He led me through the house, pointing out various rooms—a home gym, a media room, a study, and several guest bedrooms, one of which would be mine. Everything was spacious, high-end, and utterly devoid of personality.

"This will be your room," he said, opening a door to reveal a beautiful but generic space with a king-sized bed and an attached bathroom, bigger than my entire apartment’s bedroom, connected to Jack’s room. "You can... decorate it however you want."

"Thank you," I said, unsure how else to respond. The idea of sleeping across the hall from Jax Harrison was surreal.

As we continued the tour, we came to a closed door that Jax hesitated before opening. Inside was the only room that looked truly lived-in—walls decorated with framed hockey jerseys, shelves displaying pucks and medals, and photos of Jax throughout his career.

"My trophy room," he said, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "Or man cave, whatever you want to call it."

"It's nice," I said honestly. "It feels like you, somehow."

He looked surprised by my comment. "What do you mean?"

I gestured around us. "The rest of your house is beautiful, but it could be anyone's. This room actually tells me something about you. It shows what matters to you."

Something flashed across his face, too quickly for me to interpret, before he closed the door and continued down the hall.

The last stop was the kitchen—a chef's dream with marble countertops, double ovens, and top-of-the-line everything. Despite my discomfort with the whole situation, I couldn't help but appreciate the space professionally.

"This kitchen is amazing," I admitted, running my hand along the cool marble. "Do you cook?"

"Not really," Jax shrugged. "I heat things up occasionally."

I looked around at the pristine appliances, clearly rarely used. "This is all just... for show?"

"I'm not home much during the season," he said defensively. "And when I am, I follow a strict nutrition plan with pre-prepared meals."

I shook my head, unable to hide my disbelief. "You have this incredible kitchen, and you don't use it? That's... actually sad."

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "Not everyone finds joy in baking cupcakes."

"Not everyone finds joy in hitting people with sticks on ice, either, but here we are," I shot back.

To my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Touché."

As I continued examining the kitchen, a thought occurred to me. "You know, if we're selling this as a real marriage, shouldn't the house look like we both live here? Right now, it looks like you abducted a wife and are keeping her hostage in your museum of minimalism."

Jax crossed his arms. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"That if I'm going to live here, I should be able to make some changes," I said, warming to the idea. "Nothing major—just things that would make it look like a home rather than a furniture showroom. Some photos, perhaps actual food in the kitchen, maybe a throw pillow or two that isn't black, white, or gray."

"A throw pillow," he repeated flatly.

"Yes, Jax, a throw pillow. Possibly even one with a pattern. I know that's terrifying for you."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. "My house is organized exactly how I like it."

"And that's fine for a bachelor," I pointed out. "But for a happily married man? Not so much. If people visit—teammates, friends, your Perfect Home Furnishings people—they'll expect to see evidence of cohabitation."

We stared at each other for a long moment, a battle of wills.

"Fine," he finally conceded. "But my trophy room stays as is. And my bedroom. Those are off-limits for... throw pillows."

"Noted," I said, suppressing a smile at his grave tone, as though I'd suggested painting the walls neon pink rather than adding a few homey touches. "Your man cave shall remain a sacred space, free from the feminine threat of decorative items."

This time, a real smile flashed across his face, transforming his features and making my breath catch unexpectedly. He should do that more often, I thought before I could stop myself.

"I should go," I said, suddenly needing space to think. "I need to process all this, talk to my lawyer, make a final decision."

Jax nodded, stepping back. "Of course. Leo will send you the draft contracts tomorrow."

At the door, I turned back to face him. "For what it's worth, I haven't decided yet. This is... a lot to take in."

"I understand," he said simply. "Take the time you need."

As I drove away from his waterfront mansion, I couldn't shake the image of his smile, the glimpse of the man behind the Ice Man facade. I'd come expecting to make a business decision, but I was leaving with far more complicated feelings than anticipated.

This arrangement would save my bakery—that much was clear. But at what cost to my integrity, my independence, my heart? Because despite my best efforts to keep this strictly professional, there was something about Jax Harrison that pulled at me, something beyond his obvious physical appeal.

When I arrived home, Sprinkles greeted me at the door, her golden body wiggling with joy. I knelt to hug her, burying my face in her fur.

"What do you think, girl?" I murmured. "Should we move into a mansion with a grumpy hockey player to save Grandma's bakery?"

Sprinkles licked my face enthusiastically, which I chose to interpret as endorsement of the plan.

That night, I lay awake, weighing options that all seemed impossible. As dawn approached, I came to a decision. Three months of my life was a small price to pay for preserving my grandmother's legacy. I would marry Jax Harrison, fulfill my part of the bargain, and hopefully emerge with my bakery secure and my heart intact.

I just had to remember what this was, a business arrangement, nothing more. No matter how intriguing the glimpses of the real man behind the ice might be.