Completed • First Draft - not edited. || "You gonna sit there all night?" Luka glances at me, smirking. I glare back. "I was enjoying the last few seconds of peace before having to spend an evening pretending to like you." "That's funny," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Why?" I snap. "Because I was thinking the same thing." || The rules? Easy enough. 1. Pretend to be the perfect couple. 2. Keep it professional. 3. And whatever you do, don't. catch. feelings. Simple, right? Sofia Calloway never planned on going viral for throwing a drink in Luka Mikhaylov's face. But one video, one pissed-off hockey star, and one furious university later... she's suddenly stuck in a fake relationship with the guy she can't stand. He needs to clean up his image before the NHL draft. She needs the free tuition that comes with the deal. All they have to do is smile for the cameras, hold hands at the games, and act like they don't want to strangle each other. Then come the late-night arguments that last too long. The stolen glances that feel too dangerous. The moment where "pretend" starts looking way too real. Because when you break the rules, someone's bound to lose. And this time, it might be both of them.

[This is a spin-off of The DILF but can be read as a stand-alone] [The story you are about to read is intended for readers age 18+ due to its sexual content and language. It may not be appropriate for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion.] There was nothing Ophelia wanted better than to gouge Nikolai's long-lashed, consuming blue eyes out with a butter knife and mail them to the rest of the Alvonich family. Too bad they were in a very public, very esteemed place - Mikhail's wedding. "You don't think I'll press the button?" Nikolai's breath was warm and teasing in her ear. Ophelia had no idea what possessed her to take up his challenge of a vibrating thong, except that it was too late to back out now. She turned to glance at the infuriating man beside her. "Honestly, I don't care. It won't affect me." "Sweet Ophelia," he whispered, surprising her by flicking his tongue into her ear. Jumping, she glared at him, ignoring the important guests at her table, her father included. Before she could curse at Nikolai, he pressed the button, the swearwords turning to soft moans under her breath. Gripping the edge of the table, Ophelia felt the attack on her cl!t like a burn to her skin. Her father shot her a concerned look from across the table and Nikolai's voice was again in her ear. "Before the end of the night, Ophelia, we will f**k," he promised, releasing his finger from the remote control. "Only this time, it will be my name you scream."